Dylan*

What had started as a perfectly normal search for “things to do near Seattle in summer” had somehow spiraled into:

reading Yelp reviews at one in the morning

watching a ten-minute jet ski safety video

convincing himself this was “probably easy”

and finally clicking Reserve Now before he could think too hard about it

In his defense, the website had made it look very romantic.

Not romantic.  Fun. Casual. Normal friend activities. Totally normal things people did with people they were definitely not quietly in love with.

Cameron groaned softly and scrubbed both hands over his face.

“Idiot,” he muttered to himself.

And yet…

He looked back at the confirmation email.

He could already picture it: sunny weather, open water, music playing quietly somewhere, you laughing at him when he inevitably messes something up.

The image settled warmly in his chest before immediately making him nervous again. Because now he actually had to ask you. His phone sat beside him on the couch cushion like a threat. He picked it up. Put it back down. Picked it up again.

What if you thought it was weird? Too much? What if you immediately realized this was dangerously close to a date?

Because honestly, he was trying very hard not to realize that himself.

Cameron opened your text thread anyway. Stared at the blinking cursor.

Typed:

hey wanna maybe do something saturday

Deleted it. Too vague.

Typed again:

So hypothetically how do you feel about watercraft

Deleted that immediately.

Jesus Christ.

Finally, before he could overthink himself into another hour of pacing, he hit record on a voice message.

“Okay, so don’t laugh,” he started immediately, already laughing a little himself in that nervous way he did when he knew he sounded ridiculous. “But I may have accidentally rented jet skis.”

The message was sent before he could stop it. He dropped his head back against the couch cushion dramatically.

“Great,” he sighed at the ceiling. “Perfect. Super normal.”

Three dots appeared almost immediately. His stomach flipped.

Then your reply came through:

Accidentally?

Cameron barked out a laugh so suddenly he startled himself.

He hit record again before he could think too hard.

“No, okay, in my defense,” he said quickly, sitting forward now, “the website made it seem really easy. And there were reviews. People said it was fun. Nobody died in the reviews, which feels important.”

A pause.

Then, because nervousness always made him ramble: “And technically, there’s also a boat involved? Which I maybe should’ve led with because now it sounds like I rented rogue jet skis off Craigslist.”

Another pause.

“Which I didn’t. For the record.”

He sent that one too. Then immediately stood up and started pacing his apartment.

Because this was insane.

You were going to say no. Not rudely. You weren’t a rude person.

But you were definitely going to say: “Cameron, absolutely not.”

His phone buzzed again.

He snatched it up too fast to see your message,

I have literally never been on a jet ski in my life.

A grin spread across his face before he could stop it.

He typed back:

Great news.

Me neither.

A full minute passed before your next reply.

He spent the entire minute convincing himself you were trying to figure out how to let him down gently.

Then you respond:

Cameron Cassmore.

He laughed under his breath.

He typed:

That’s not technically a no.

Another pause.

Then finally:

…okay.

But if I die, I’m haunting you specifically.

Cameron smiled so hard his cheeks hurt.

Warm. Bright. Immediate.

Hopeful in a way he hadn’t let himself feel in a while.

He looked around his apartment at the pile of unnecessary supplies he’d already started gathering earlier:

sunscreen

towels

chips

bottled water

Dramamine he bought “just in case”

a Bluetooth speaker he wasn’t even sure worked

It suddenly felt less stupid.

Less like another impulsive attempt at becoming someone else.

And more like maybe— maybe this could actually be something good.

By the time Saturday morning rolled around, Cameron had managed approximately four hours of sleep.

Not because he’d been busy.

Because apparently his brain had decided this was a life-altering event worthy of a complete psychological breakdown.

At two in the morning, he’d gotten up to make sure he actually had sunscreen.

At three-fifteen, he remembered people probably needed towels.

At four, he spent twenty minutes reading an article titled:

“Top Ten Beginner Jet Ski Mistakes.”

Which had honestly made things significantly worse.

Now, just after eight in the morning, he sat outside your apartment gripping an iced coffee like it was medically necessary.

Baseball cap pulled low. Sunglasses on despite the fact that the sun was barely fully up yet. One elbow hanging out the open driver’s side window like he was somehow cooler than he actually felt.

Which was not cool at all.

His stomach had been doing nervous flips for the last twenty minutes.

The inside of his car looked like a small sporting goods store had exploded in it.

There were:

towels piled in the backseat

sunscreen in two different SPF levels because he panicked and bought both

chips shoved into a reusable grocery bag

bottled waters rolling dramatically every time he hit the brakes

a tangled Bluetooth speaker cord hanging halfway out of another bag

He glanced at himself in the rearview mirror.

“You need to relax,” he told himself quietly.

Then immediately checked his phone to make sure he was at the right building, even though he’d been here before.

A minute later, the apartment door opened.

And there you were.

Cameron straightened automatically.

God.

Maybe renting jet skis had been worth the emotional devastation after all.

You smiled the second you spotted his car, and something warm twisted painfully in his chest.

He leaned across the passenger seat to push the door open before you could reach for the handle yourself.

“Morning,” he said, trying for casual.

It came out slightly too fast.

You slid into the passenger seat with a sleepy smile and immediately stopped short.

Your eyes moved slowly around the inside of the car.

The towels. The snacks. The bags. The speaker cord.

One water bottle rolled sadly across the floorboard.

A smile pulled at your mouth.

Cameron suddenly became intensely aware of every single item in the vehicle.

“What?” he asked defensively already.

You looked at him, amused. “You packed snacks.”

He scoffed softly and started the car before you could see him getting embarrassed.

“People need snacks,” he muttered. “That’s just science.”

You laughed quietly beside him, setting your bag at your feet.

The sound settled warmly somewhere beneath his ribs.

God, he liked making you laugh.

Too much, probably.

He pulled out onto the street, one hand drumming nervously against the steering wheel.

“You sleep okay?” you asked.

“Fantastic,” Cameron lied immediately.

You looked over.

He grinned sheepishly. “I read, like, six jet ski articles.”

“Oh, my God.”

“In fairness, some were safety-related.”

“Some?”

“Well.” He adjusted his sunglasses. “One was titled ‘Jet Ski Etiquette,’ which honestly felt important socially.”

You laughed again.

There it was.

That stupid little spark of victory he felt every time he managed it.

The early morning traffic thinned as they headed farther from the city.

Sunlight filtered gold through the windshield. Music played low for approximately thirty seconds before Cameron changed the station.

Then changed it again.

Then again.

You glanced over slowly.

“Do you hate every song on earth?”

“What? No.” Another station switch. “I’m curating a vibe.”

“You’ve changed the vibe four times.”

“That’s because none of these people understand summer.”

You snorted softly beside him.

Cameron smiled to himself, tapping the steering wheel again.

Then, quieter: “You nervous?”

You exhaled dramatically. “Yes.”

“Fair.”

“I’ve never even been near a jet ski.”

“Neither had I until forty-eight hours ago.”

Your head whipped toward him. “Cameron.”

“What? I watched videos.”

“That does not help.”

“It helped the guys in the comments section.”

“The comments section?”

Cameron grinned.

You stared at him another second before laughing despite yourself and leaning back into the seat.

The nervousness still sat visibly in your shoulders, though.

He noticed immediately.

Of course he did.

So Cameron kept talking.

About everything.

A weird billboard. A dog he saw hanging out of a truck window. The marina reviews. A guy online who claimed he proposed on a jet ski.

“That feels unsafe emotionally,” you said.

“Right? Like if she says no, now you’re stranded on water.”

You laughed again.

And Cameron— still sleep-deprived, still anxious, still pretending he had any clue what he was doing— felt something loosen quietly in his chest.

Because this already felt good.

Easy.

Like maybe the day didn’t actually have to be perfect.

Maybe he just wanted more moments exactly like this one: You beside him, sunlight pouring through the windows, Both of you laughing before the day had even really started.

—

The marina was already busy by the time they arrived.

Not crowded exactly, but alive in that distinctly summer way.

Boat motors hummed somewhere out on the water. Music drifted faintly from a dock farther down. People in sunglasses and swimsuits wandered between rental slips carrying coolers, towels, and folded chairs.

The whole place smelled like sunscreen, lake water, and gasoline baking gently in the sun.

Cameron parked crooked on the first attempt.

Then pulled forward to fix it.

Then made it slightly worse somehow.

You pretended not to notice.

He killed the engine and immediately reached for his coffee again, as if it might contain confidence.

“Okay,” he said, exhaling hard. “This is gonna be fun.”

You looked at him. “That sounded like you were convincing yourself.”

“I contain multitudes.”

You laughed softly and climbed out of the car.

The sunlight hit warm immediately. Bright enough that Cameron adjusted his sunglasses before grabbing approximately six things at once from the backseat.

“You know,” you said carefully as he nearly dropped the speaker bag, “most people usually make two trips.”

“Nope,” Cameron said, struggling under three towels and the cooler. “That’s weakness.”

A water bottle fell out of the grocery bag and rolled under the car.

You bent to grab it while Cameron stared upward dramatically. “This is humiliating.”

“You packed enough supplies for a week.”

“What if we get stranded?”

“You rented these for an afternoon.”

“You don’t know what could happen on the open water.”

He said it with complete seriousness.

You stared at him.

Then laughed again.

God.

That sound.

Cameron smiled despite himself and finally managed to get everything balanced well enough to start walking toward the rental office.

The marina office itself was small and sun-faded, with handwritten signs taped crookedly near the register advertising bait, cold drinks, and emergency ponchos.

A teenage employee behind the counter looked deeply uninterested in existing.

Cameron immediately stood up straighter.

Cooler. More confident.

Like a man who absolutely rented boats all the time.

“Morning,” he said casually, setting the rental paperwork on the counter. “Here for the, uh… water vehicles.”

You looked down instantly to hide your smile.

The employee blinked slowly. “The jet skis?”

“Right,” Cameron said smoothly. “Obviously.”

The guy nodded once.

Then launched into what was very clearly a rehearsed safety speech.

“Okay, so the throttle’s on the right handlebar. The kill switch clips onto the vest. Stay outside buoy markers—”

Cameron nodded with intense concentration.

Way too intensely.

Like he was trying to absorb the information through sheer eye contact.

“—and no sharp turns at high speed unless you know how to counterbalance properly.”

“Yep,” Cameron said immediately. “Totally.”

You glanced sideways at him.

He kept nodding seriously.

“Dock back at Slip Four when you’re done. The boat key stays separate from the ski keys. Any questions?”

Cameron paused for one dangerous second, like he was considering pretending he did have questions.

Then: “Nope. Crystal clear.”

The employee looked unconvinced.

“Cool,” he said flatly.

A few minutes later, once the paperwork was signed and life vests were handed over, the two of you stepped back outside into the bright sunlight.

The second the office door shut behind them, you looked at Cameron.

“Did you know any of that already?”

Cameron adjusted his sunglasses calmly. “Not a word.”

You burst out laughing.

He grinned immediately, pleased with himself.

“I understood maybe…” He held up two fingers close together. “Five percent.”

“You acted like you were getting briefed for a military operation.”

“That’s because confidence matters.”

“You called them water vehicles.”

“In fairness,” Cameron said, shrugging into one of the life vests, “that’s technically what they are.”

You laughed harder.

And Cameron— standing there in the middle of the marina parking lot with sunglasses slipping down his nose and sunscreen already smeared badly along one arm— felt warmth spread through his chest again.

Because this.

This right here.

You laughing beside him in the sunshine while he made an idiot of himself.

This was exactly what he’d wanted.

The rental dock sat just beyond the marina office, sunlight flashing gold across the water in shifting patterns.

Up close, the jet skis looked significantly larger than they had online.

Which felt unfair, honestly.

You stopped walking.

Cameron noticed immediately.

His smile softened a little beneath his sunglasses. “Uh oh.”

You crossed your arms loosely over your chest. “I don’t like how aggressive they look.”

“They look friendly.”

“They look fast.”

“That too.”

One of the skis bobbed lightly against the dock, the engine already giving occasional low mechanical sounds as another employee prepared the rentals nearby.

Your stomach flipped.

Cameron noticed that too.

Of course he did.

He shifted the towels he was holding under one arm and stepped a little closer. “Hey,” he said lightly, “we don’t have to do anything insane.”

You looked out toward the water again.

It was beautiful. Wide open lake. Blue sky. Gentle breeze.

And still— the idea of climbing onto one of those things felt mildly horrifying.

“I’m serious,” you admitted quietly. “I’m kind of scared.”

The teasing expression on Cameron’s face disappeared instantly.

Not dramatically. Just softened.

Warmer.

He set the towels down on the dock bench beside the life vests and reached for one.

“C’mere,” he said gently.

Something in your chest tightened a little at the tone.

You stepped closer.

Cameron shook the vest out once before holding it open for you automatically, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

You slipped your arms through.

The vest hung slightly loose around your sides.

Cameron frowned in concentration immediately.

“Nope. That’s not right.”

He stepped closer before you could answer.

Very close.

Close enough now that you could smell sunscreen and coffee lingering faintly on him beneath the lake air.

His fingers carefully found the front straps.

“Hold on,” he murmured.

The buckle clicked softly.

Then another.

Cameron crouched slightly to tighten the lower strap, his fingers brushing accidentally against your waist in the process.

Your breath caught before you could stop it.

His hands paused for half a second.

Just enough to notice.

Then Cameron cleared his throat softly and focused very hard on the buckle, as if it had suddenly become the most important task of his life.

“Safety first,” he muttered, mostly to himself.

You smiled despite the nervous flutter building low in your stomach now for entirely different reasons.

The sunlight caught against the edge of his sunglasses as he looked up briefly.

“So,” he said, still adjusting one strap carefully, “on a scale from one to ten, how much are you regretting agreeing to this?”

“Currently?”

“Mm-hm.”

“Like… seven.”

Cameron winced dramatically. “Ouch.”

“You told me you’d watched videos.”

“I did watch videos.”

“That’s somehow making this worse.”

He laughed softly under his breath.

Then his expression gentled again.

“Hey.” His voice quieter now. “You don’t have to prove anything today.”

The words settled warmly into the space between you.

Cameron tugged lightly on one last strap, checking the fit.

“We can literally just float around out there if you want,” he continued. “I don’t care.”

And he meant it.

That was the thing.

You could hear it immediately.

This wasn’t him trying to pressure you into being adventurous. Wasn’t him trying to look cool.

He just wanted you there.

Wanted you happy.

Something in your chest ached unexpectedly at the realization.

Your eyes flicked toward his.

Cameron was still standing close enough that if either of you leaned forward even slightly—

He blinked suddenly like he’d realized the exact same thing.

Then immediately fumbled the strap in his hands despite already tightening it.

“Okay,” he said too quickly. “Great. Perfect. Very secure. You’re, uh… survival-ready.”

You laughed softly.

His ears turned slightly pink beneath the baseball cap.

Cute.

Dangerously cute.

Cameron straightened fully, rubbing one hand awkwardly against the back of his neck before grabbing his own vest.

“Besides,” he added, trying very hard to recover his normal teasing tone, “if anything happens, I saw at least three separate people online say these things are beginner-friendly.”

You stared at him.

“Online?”

“Well,” he said defensively, “where else would jet ski experts gather?”

Getting the boat away from the dock took significantly longer than Cameron had implied it would.

There had been:

one failed attempt at reversing

a brief moment where the employee had to shove them away from the dock manually

and Cameron muttering, “Okay, that one wasn’t my fault,” under his breath while you laughed hard enough to nearly lose your sunglasses.

But eventually—

Eventually, the marina noise faded behind them.

And the lake opened wide.

The water stretched endlessly blue beneath the morning sun, sparkling so brightly in places it almost hurt to look at it directly. Small ripples rocked gently beneath the boat as Cameron guided it farther from shore, the steady hum of the motor blending with the soft slap of water against the hull.

Out here, everything felt quieter somehow.

Softer.

Even the air felt different.

Cool against sun-warmed skin.

You sat beside Cameron on the bench seat near the console, one knee angled toward him without really thinking about it.

The boat wasn’t large enough for much personal space anyway.

Not that either of you seemed particularly bothered by that fact.

Cameron rested one hand loosely on the steering wheel, sunglasses slipping slowly down the bridge of his nose every few minutes before he pushed them back up absentmindedly.

For the first time all morning, he seemed genuinely relaxed.

The nervous energy had eased out of his shoulders little by little once they’d gotten onto open water.

No crowds. No dock employees. No paperwork.

Just the two of you.

And honestly?

Cameron thought this might be the nicest thing he’d done in a very long time.

You opened the bag of chips between you carefully as the boat drifted over a small wake.

Immediately, Cameron reached over and stole one.

You looked at him. “Those are mine.”

“I bought them.”

“You packed them for me.”

“That feels speculative.”

You laughed softly and nudged his shoulder with yours.

The contact was brief.

Casual.

But Cameron felt it anyway.

Felt all of it lately, honestly.

Every accidental touch. Every smile. Every time you laughed at something dumb he said like it mattered.

He glanced toward you for half a second longer than necessary before quickly looking back toward the water.

Dangerous.

This whole thing was becoming dangerous.

“You know,” he said casually, “I think I’m actually kind of good at this.”

“You almost hit a dock.”

“That was environmental.”

You snorted.

“And the employee literally grabbed the boat.”

“He overreacted.”

Your knees bumped lightly as the boat shifted again.

Neither of you moved away.

The breeze tugged loose strands of hair across your face, and Cameron looked over automatically.

His fingers twitched briefly against the steering wheel before he stopped himself.

Too much.

Way too much.

Instead, he reached for another chip.

You smacked his hand away this time.

“Unbelievable,” he muttered.

“You have your own snacks.”

“Yeah, but yours are psychologically more appealing now.”

The lake widened farther around them as Cameron guided the boat toward quieter water away from the marina traffic.

The farther out they got, the calmer everything seemed.

No loud voices. No crowded docks.

Just sunlight dancing across the water endlessly.

Cameron exhaled slowly without realizing it.

And for once, his brain finally shut up a little.

No spiraling thoughts. No constant low-grade panic about his life. No trying to figure out who he was supposed to become.

Just this.

You beside him. Summer air. Open water.

Easy.

He started talking again eventually.

Not because he was nervous now.

Just because silence with you didn’t feel uncomfortable anymore.

He pointed vaguely across the lake. “I read a review that said somebody saw an otter out here once.”

“One otter?”

“Apparently, it was memorable.”

“That’s your selling point?”

“There are layers to this experience.”

You smiled, leaning back slightly against the seat.

Cameron glanced sideways again.

The sunlight caught warm against your skin. Your life vest sat slightly crooked from where the straps had loosened. Your sunglasses had slipped low enough that he could see your eyes when you looked at him.

Something tight pulled unexpectedly in his chest.

God.

This felt dangerously close to a date.

The realization settled slowly and heavily in your stomach at almost the exact same moment.

The snacks. The lake. The quiet. The way Cameron kept looking at you when he thought you weren’t paying attention.

This wasn’t just two friends hanging out anymore.

Or maybe it never had been.

Cameron cleared his throat lightly and looked back toward the water before he could embarrass himself by staring too long.

Because the truth was becoming increasingly difficult to ignore.

He didn’t just want this day to go well.

He wanted this to mean something.

Wanted you to mean something.

And maybe— judging by the soft smile still lingering at the corner of your mouth as you looked out across the lake—

Maybe you already did.

—

By the time Cameron finally slowed the boat, they were far enough from the marina that the rest of the lake traffic had faded into distant specks across the water.

The open lake stretched endlessly around them now.

Blue. Bright. Quiet.

A light breeze skimmed across the surface, turning the sunlight into glittering patterns that shifted every few seconds.

Cameron eased back on the throttle.

The motor quieted gradually before he finally cut it completely.

Instantly, the world softened.

No engine noise now. Just gentle water lapping against the side of the boat. The faint creak of movement beneath your feet. Wind is moving lazily through the open air.

For a second, neither of you said anything.

Then Cameron looked over at you from behind his sunglasses.

A grin tugged slowly at the corner of his mouth.

“Ready?”

You blinked at him. “For what?”

He stared at you for one dramatic second.

Then pointed toward the back of the boat where the two jet skis floated tethered behind them.

Your stomach dropped instantly.

“Oh,” you said weakly.

Cameron laughed immediately.

Not loudly. Not meanly.

Fondly.

Like your reaction was exactly what he’d expected.

“Oh, Cam,” you groaned, already pulling your knees closer to your chest instinctively. “I’ve never ridden one. That’s a terrifying thing. Those things look so unsafe.”

Cameron’s grin widened.

“Baby,” he said, laughing softly now, “what do you think the life vest is for?”

You reached over and smacked lightly at the bill of his baseball cap.

He leaned away dramatically like you’d wounded him. “Violence. Interesting.”

“You brought me into the middle of a lake under false pretenses.”

“I literally told you there would be jet skis.”

“I thought you meant emotionally. Like… conceptually.”

Cameron barked out another laugh at that, dropping his head briefly.

God.

You were cute when you were nervous.

Which was becoming a problem.

Because every time he made you laugh, some tight anxious knot inside his chest loosened a little more, too.

It was easier to breathe around you lately.

Easier to stop thinking so hard.

Cameron stood carefully, the boat rocking lightly beneath him.

“Okay,” he said, rubbing his hands together once with completely fake confidence. “Here’s the plan.”

“That sentence alone made me nauseous.”

“Wow. Okay. Hurtful.”

You laughed despite yourself.

Victory.

Cameron pointed toward the jet skis again. “We start slow.”

“How slow?”

He considered this. “…lake slow.”

“That means nothing.”

“It means very safe and responsible.”

“You almost hit a dock this morning.”

“In fairness,” Cameron said, stepping toward the back platform of the boat, “I feel like you’re really holding that against me.”

“Because it happened.”

“One time.”

“The employee physically intervened.”

“That guy had trust issues.”

You shook your head, smiling helplessly now as Cameron crouched near the back of the boat to start untying one of the skis.

Even now, even while clearly bluffing portions of this entire experience, he looked weirdly happy.

Relaxed.

The sunlight warmed the back of his neck beneath his cap. His sunglasses kept slipping down his nose every few seconds. He kept talking while working, half to you and half to himself.

“I watched a video about this part specifically,” he informed you.

“That’s not reassuring.”

“No, it actually was a really good video. Very educational. The guy had over twelve thousand subscribers.”

“Cameron.”

“I’m just saying credentials matter.”

You laughed again, quieter this time.

And Cameron smiled to himself automatically as he climbed carefully down onto the back platform.

Because this— this right here—

You teasing him while the lake drifted quietly around you—

felt better than he’d even imagined it would.

Dangerously better.

Watching Cameron attempt to untether the jet ski while maintaining his illusion of competence became entertaining almost immediately.

“There’s no way this is as graceful as the videos made it look,” he muttered, crouched awkwardly near the edge of the boat.

The ski bumped lightly against the side again.

Cameron reached for the rope.

Missed it entirely the first time.

You pressed your lips together hard.

“I can feel you judging me.”

“I haven’t said anything.”

“You didn’t have to.”

He finally caught the rope with an unnecessarily triumphant: “Ha.”

Then immediately almost lost his sunglasses when the boat rocked beneath him.

You laughed outright this time.

Cameron pointed at you accusingly while steadying himself with the other hand. “See, this is why people don’t try new things.”

“You rented watercraft at one in the morning.”

“And yet here we are.”

Somehow— through a combination of luck, stubbornness, and deeply questionable technique— he managed to get the first jet ski lowered fully into the water beside the boat.

It bobbed gently against the side.

Cameron stared at it for one long second.

Then at you.

Then back at the ski.

“…okay.”

“That sounded uncertain.”

“No, no. That was a confident okay.”

“You looked scared.”

“I contain depth.”

You snorted softly as Cameron climbed carefully down onto the swim platform at the back of the boat.

The movement made the whole thing rock lightly.

Immediately: “Oh my God,” you whispered.

Cameron looked up. “You’re fine.”

“You say that while standing on a floating death machine.”

“It’s technically two floating death machines.”

“That’s worse.”

He laughed again.

God, he loved this version of you. All nervous energy and sarcasm and reluctant amusement.

It made him feel strangely light.

Cameron swung one leg carefully over the jet ski seat.

For a brief second, he actually looked kind of cool.

Then he accidentally hit the horn.

A loud HONK burst across the lake.

You startled violently.

Cameron froze.

Then slowly looked up at you.

“…warning honk.”

You laughed so hard you had to grab the side rail for balance.

Even Cameron doubled over laughing at himself.

“Okay,” he said finally, wiping under his sunglasses dramatically. “That one was rough.”

“You’re doing amazing, sweetie.”

“Wow. Mockery. From my own team.”

Still smiling helplessly, you carefully climbed down toward the swim platform while Cameron steadied the ski beside the boat.

The closer you got, the more nervousness returned.

The water suddenly looked very far away.

Very open.

Very deep.

Cameron noticed instantly.

His teasing expression softened again. “Hey.”

You looked over.

He held one hand out toward you.

Simple. Easy.

“C’mon,” he said gently. “I got you.”

Your stomach flipped for an entirely different reason this time.

You reached for his hand carefully.

His grip closed warm and steady around yours immediately.

And despite the rocking boat and your nerves and the fact that you were about to climb onto what still absolutely looked like a mechanically advanced dolphin designed for violence—

You trusted him.

That realization hit quietly.

Dangerously quietly.

Cameron helped guide you onto the seat behind him, one hand braced lightly at your waist to steady you as the ski shifted beneath your combined weight.

“There you go,” he murmured.

The closeness hit immediately.

Your knees pressed along either side of him. The warmth of his back against your chest. The clean smell of sunscreen and lake air and Cameron.

Then— without really thinking— you wrapped your arms tightly around his waist.

Cameron went completely still for half a second.

Oh. Oh no.

This felt… Nice. Like really nice.

Way nicer than it should’ve.

His brain short-circuited briefly as your arms tightened instinctively around him again when the jet ski rocked.

Dangerous. Dangerous development.

Cameron cleared his throat softly and forced himself to focus very hard on the controls.

“Okay,” he said, voice slightly rougher now. “So. Professional jet ski operation.”

“You watched one YouTube video.”

“It was a playlist, actually.”

“That’s not helping.”

He grinned despite himself and hit the ignition.

The engine sputtered once.

Died immediately.

Silence.

You stared at the back of his head.

Cameron stared forward.

“…okay.”

You burst out laughing again.

He pointed ahead dramatically without turning around. “That was a warm-up start.”

“Sure.”

“Very common in professional water sports.”

Second try.

The engine roared properly this time. The entire ski vibrated beneath you.

Immediately, your grip tightened around Cameron’s waist.

He absolutely noticed.

But he absolutely tried not to notice.

The ski eased slowly away from the boat.

Very slowly. Painfully slowly.

Still: “CAMERON,” you yelped instantly into his shoulder. “SLOW DOWN.”

He laughed loudly this time, the sound carrying across the water.

“Baby,” he called back over the engine noise, “this is slow.”

“This feels illegal!”

“We’re moving like four miles an hour!”

Wind tugged lightly at your hair as the ski skimmed farther across the lake surface.

The motion was smoother than you expected. Not gentle exactly— but exciting.

Your heart hammered wildly somewhere between terror and adrenaline.

Meanwhile, Cameron couldn’t stop smiling.

Not because of the jet ski. Because of you.

Your arms around him. Your laughter mixing with nervous shrieks. The way you buried your face briefly against his shoulder every time the ski bounced over a wake.

It felt stupidly good.

Better than the lake. Better than the weather. Better than the whole idea he’d built up in his head.

“You okay back there?” he called.

“No!”

“That’s promising.”

“Cameron!”

“You’re still alive though, right?”

“Barely!”

“You haven’t thrown me off yet, so honestly? Huge success.”

You smacked lightly at his side. He laughed again.

And the farther they drifted from the boat— wind in their faces, sunlight glittering endlessly around them, both of them laughing too hard to be self-conscious anymore—

The more Cameron felt something unfamiliar settling warmly in his chest.

Not panic.

Not loneliness.

Just happiness.

Simple. Immediate. Real.

Eventually, somewhere between your fourth threat to throw yourself voluntarily into the lake and Cameron nearly laughing himself off the jet ski after one particularly dramatic scream over a tiny wake, the fear started easing.

Not disappearing completely.

But softening around the edges.

The lake didn’t feel quite so terrifying anymore.

And Cameron— warm beneath your arms, laughing every thirty seconds, constantly checking on you—

felt safe.

Which honestly might’ve been the bigger problem.

The jet ski slowed again until it drifted gently across calmer water.

Cameron glanced back over his shoulder slightly. “Okay.”

You narrowed your eyes immediately. “That tone means something.”

“It means,” he said carefully, “you’re driving now.”

Absolutely not.

You tightened your grip around him instantly. “No.”

He laughed softly. “C’mon.”

“No, Cameron.”

“You’re ready.”

“I literally screamed because of a wave like two minutes ago.”

“In fairness, it was an aggressive wave.”

You snorted reluctantly.

Cameron smiled at the sound before carefully guiding the ski into a wider idle circle.

“Okay, look.” His voice gentler now. “I’m not throwing you into the deep end here.”

“This is technically all deep end.”

“You know what I mean.”

You did. Unfortunately.

Cameron shifted slightly on the seat to look back at you more fully, one arm draped loosely across the handlebars.

The sunlight caught warm against the edges of his sunglasses.

“You trust me, right?” he asked.

And there it was again. That dangerous softness.

The thing Cameron did sometimes without realizing it— where all the joking dropped away for just a second, and suddenly he was painfully sincere.

You swallowed once. “…yeah.”

His smile softened instantly.

“Okay,” he said quietly. “Then we’ll go slow.”

The switch itself was awkward and mildly chaotic.

At one point:

the ski rocked alarmingly

you grabbed Cameron’s shoulder in panic

Cameron laughed so hard he almost slipped sideways into the water himself

“Okay,” he wheezed, “that would’ve been humiliating.”

“You would’ve deserved it.”

“Probably.”

Eventually, though, you ended up seated carefully in front of him.

Immediately more nervous.

The handlebars sat beneath your hands now. The open lake stretched ahead.

Cameron sat close behind you, one knee braced lightly along either side of the seat to steady both of you.

“You’re fine,” he said automatically, noticing your shoulders tense.

Easy for him to say.

Then his hands settled gently over yours on the handlebars.

And every coherent thought in your brain disappeared instantly.

Oh.

His palms were warm. Steady. Close enough now that every breath you took seemed to pull in the clean scent of sunscreen and lake water and Cameron himself.

“You basically just steer like this,” he explained softly near your ear, guiding the handlebars slightly left.

Your pulse skipped stupidly.

“And this controls speed.” His fingers tapped lightly near the throttle. “But we’re not touching that aggressively because I enjoy surviving.”

You laughed nervously.

Cameron grinned immediately at the sound.

“There you go,” he murmured. “See? You’re already a natural.”

“I’m literally not moving.”

“Confidence matters.”

“You said that before the dock incident.”

“That feels unrelated.”

You shook your head, smiling helplessly despite yourself.

Then slowly—carefully—you nudged the handlebars.

The ski shifted slightly across the water.

Tiny movement.

Barely anything.

Still, Cameron lit up behind you like you’d just landed a plane.

“No, no,” he said immediately. “That was incredible. Honestly? Top five jet ski moments I’ve ever witnessed.”

You laughed. “I barely moved.”

“Exactly. Precision. Control. Vision.”

“You’re making fun of me.”

“A little,” he admitted. “But also not really.”

And that was the thing. Underneath the teasing, he genuinely looked proud.

Like every tiny success from you mattered way more than it reasonably should.

It settled warm and fluttering somewhere low in your stomach.

Cameron guided your hands gently again. “Okay, little more this time.”

You tried again.

The ski curved wider now across the open water.

Not graceful exactly. But movement.

Real movement.

“Oh my God,” you breathed.

“You’re doing it!”

“I’m doing it?”

“You’re literally operating machinery right now. This is huge.”

His excitement was impossible not to laugh at.

Cameron laughed too, sounding almost boyishly delighted behind you now.

For someone who claimed this was casual, he looked absurdly invested in your success.

Then, because he was Cameron, he immediately got distracted halfway through another explanation.

“So apparently,” he started, “there’s this guy online who tried to ride one of these with his dog—”

The jet ski drifted sideways slightly.

You looked back immediately. “Shouldn’t you be watching where we’re going?”

Cameron glanced around.

Paused.

“…probably.”

You burst out laughing again.

The sound bounced softly across the open lake.

And Cameron, arms still loosely around you while helping guide the handlebars, sunlight warming both of you beneath the endless blue sky, felt something shift quietly inside him.

Because somewhere between the nervousness and the teasing and your hands trembling slightly beneath his, this had stopped feeling like pretending.

Stopped feeling like him trying to orchestrate some perfect summer memory.

Now he just wanted more of this.

More of you laughing. More of you leaning back against him unconsciously. More of this strange, light feeling in his chest every time you smiled at him like he mattered.

The longer the two of you drifted across the lake, the less terrifying it became.

Not normal exactly.

You still felt one badly timed movement away from accidental death.

But manageable.

Especially with Cameron sitting close behind you, talking you through every tiny adjustment like you were attempting something far more dangerous than slowly steering across calm water.

“A little left,” he murmured near your ear.

You adjusted carefully.

“Perfect.”

“That did not feel perfect.”

“No, that was genuinely solid.”

“You say that every time.”

“Because you keep doing great.”

The praise came so easily from him.

Too easily.

Like he couldn’t help it.

Every tiny thing you managed made him grin immediately afterward, like he was personally invested in your success.

Which, judging by the warmth in his voice every time you got something right, he probably was.

The jet ski skimmed lightly across another small wake.

You tensed automatically.

Immediately, Cameron’s hand settled lightly against your side.

“Relax,” he said softly. “You’re okay.”

Your stomach flipped stupidly.

Not because of the movement.

Because of him.

Because his voice had gone low and warm again. Because he was close enough now that every word brushed against the side of your neck. Because every reassuring touch from him seemed to linger longer than it should.

Dangerous. Very dangerous.

“Okay,” Cameron said after another minute or so. “Try a little more speed.”

You looked back at him immediately. “Absolutely not.”

He laughed softly.

“C’mon. Just a little.”

“That’s what people say before accidents happen.”

“That feels dramatic.”

“You brought me onto a mechanical torpedo.”

“It tops out at like sixty.”

Your eyes widened in horror.

Cameron immediately laughed harder. “We are not going sixty!”

“Oh my God.”

“Baby, we’re going, like… bicycle speed right now.”

“That feels false.”

His grin softened again.

God, you were cute.

Especially like this—nervous but trying anyway.

Cameron had honestly expected today to be fun.

He hadn’t expected this constant aching fondness sitting heavy in his chest every time you laughed or looked back at him or trusted him enough to keep trying despite clearly being terrified.

It made him feel weirdly protective.

Not in a macho way.

Just… careful with you.

“Okay,” he said gently. “Tiny bit more throttle.”

You inhaled once. Then carefully squeezed.

The jet ski surged slightly faster across the water.

Not fast.

Just enough to feel the difference.

Wind pushed stronger against your shoulders now.

Your eyes widened instantly.

Cameron grinned behind you. “There you go!”

“This feels illegal!”

“It literally isn’t.”

The ski curved lightly again beneath your hands.

This time smoother.

Cleaner.

You actually laughed a little.

And Cameron— hearing that sound carried away by the wind while sunlight glittered endlessly around you— felt ridiculously happy.

Then you turned slightly too sharply.

The jet ski tilted harder than expected.

Your stomach dropped instantly.

“Oh my God—”

The ski corrected quickly, but panic hit faster.

Immediately: “Okay, nope, nope, nope, switch back—”

Cameron burst into soft laughter behind you.

Not mocking. Never mocking.

Just warm. Affectionate.

Like, he genuinely found you adorable.

“Okay, okay,” he soothed immediately, one hand settling lightly over yours again to steady the handlebars. “We’re switching.”

“Nope. Done. I retire.”

“You had a beautiful career.”

“I almost killed us.”

“You absolutely did not.”

“I saw my life flash before my eyes.”

“That was a ten-degree turn.”

“It was violent.”

Cameron laughed again, quieter this time.

Then softened immediately when he saw the lingering nerves still sitting tight in your shoulders.

“Hey.” His voice gentler now. “You did good.”

You looked back at him skeptically.

“I’m serious.”

And he was.

There wasn’t even teasing underneath it this time. Just sincerity.

“You tried,” he continued softly. “That’s the hard part.”

Something in your chest tightened unexpectedly.

Because there was no disappointment in his voice. No frustration. No pushing.

Just warmth. Patience.

Like spending the afternoon teaching you mattered more to him than whether you were actually good at it.

The realization settled deep. Dangerously deep.

Cameron shifted slightly backward on the seat again. “C’mon. We’ll switch.”

The process was awkward all over again.

More wobbling. More grabbing onto each other for balance. At one point Cameron had to grab your waist quickly to keep you both from tipping sideways.

You laughed breathlessly. “This feels unsafe.”

“We’re thriving.”

“Define thriving.”

“You haven’t fallen into the lake once.”

“That’s your standard?”

“At the moment? Yeah.”

You shook your head, smiling helplessly again as you settled carefully back behind him.

Immediately safer.

Immediately warmer too somehow.

Your arms slid around his waist automatically now without hesitation.

Cameron went quieter again for half a second.

Still not used to that.

Still liking it way too much.

Then he cleared his throat lightly and restarted the throttle.

“Alright,” he announced. “Back to professional mode.”

“You were never in professional mode.”

“That feels unnecessarily honest.”

By the time the two of you drifted back toward the boat again, the afternoon sun had shifted warmer overhead.

Everything felt softer now somehow.

The nervousness. The awkwardness. Even the teasing had settled into something easier.

The lake rolled gently beneath the jet ski as Cameron slowed them near the boat again, letting the engine idle low while the water rocked lazily around you.

Your arms still rested around his waist.

Neither of you had really acknowledged that you’d stopped pulling away from each other hours ago.

Cameron definitely noticed, though.

Unfortunately.

Because every time your fingers tightened lightly against his stomach when the ski shifted, his brain short-circuited a little.

He cut the engine again.

Silence settled around you almost immediately.

Just water moving softly beneath the ski. Wind brushes across the lake's surface. A distant boat somewhere far off.

You exhaled slowly behind him. “I think I’m getting better.”

Cameron turned slightly. “See? Natural talent.”

“I almost threw us into the ocean.”

“We’re on a lake.”

“Same emotional experience.”

He laughed softly.

Then shifted carefully on the seat. “Okay, hold on. Lemme stabilize this thing before we switch again.”

You loosened your arms enough for him to move.

Cameron twisted around awkwardly to brace himself better while steadying the handlebars—

and somehow ended up sitting backward on the seat facing you.

For a second, neither of you moved.

The position was ridiculous.

His knees bumped against yours automatically from how little space there actually was. One hand still rested loosely near your hip where he’d instinctively steadied you during the shift.

You looked at him.

Then laughed softly. “What are you doing?”

Cameron opened his mouth immediately.

Paused.

Looked at you properly for maybe the first time all afternoon.

The sunlight caught warm gold against your face. Wind moved softly through your hair. Your smile still lingered there— easy now. Comfortable.

And suddenly Cameron forgot every coherent thought he’d ever had in his life.

“…honestly?” he admitted quietly. “Forgot what I was doing.”

You laughed again. Smaller this time.

Closer.

And something changed in the space between you. Not dramatically. Nothing huge or cinematic.

Just the teasing eased back slightly. The air grew quieter somehow.

The lake drifted lazily around you. The warmth of the afternoon sun settled across both your skin. You were close enough now that Cameron could feel your breath every time you laughed softly.

Too close to pretend this was still nothing.

His eyes flicked briefly toward your mouth before he could stop himself.

Then back up.

You noticed.

Your stomach flipped immediately.

Cameron swallowed once.

God, say something normal. Anything.

Instead: “So this is probably the point in a movie where somebody falls into the water.”

You smiled helplessly. “Probably.”

“Which would honestly ruin the moment a little.”

“The moment?”

Cameron blinked once like he’d accidentally said that part out loud.

“…yeah,” he said softly.

And there it was. That dangerous sincerity again. No jokes covering it this time. No nervous rambling.

Just Cameron looking at you like he wanted something and hadn’t figured out how to hide it anymore. Your heart started pounding hard enough you were sure he could hear it. Neither of you moved at first.

Then Cameron did the most Cameron thing possible: he kissed you carefully, like he still wasn’t entirely sure you wanted him to.

Warm. Tentative for half a second. Slightly breathless immediately afterward, like he’d surprised himself by doing it at all. But the second you kissed him back something in him melted completely. His hand slid instinctively to your waist to steady both you and himself as the jet ski rocked lightly beneath you. The kiss deepened naturally after that. Not polished. Not cinematic perfection. Just soft and warm and overdue. Like every almost-moment between you had finally caught up all at once.

Cameron smiled against your mouth halfway through because he physically could not help himself. You pulled back just enough to see it immediately. That dumb, bright, completely smitten grin spreading slowly across his face beneath the sunglasses slipping down his nose.

You laughed softly, still close enough that your foreheads nearly brushed.

“And you wanted to work today.”

Cameron snorted quietly, still smiling so hard it almost looked painful.

“In my defense,” he murmured, “I think I got very distracted.”

After the kiss, neither of you seemed particularly interested in jet skis anymore. Not that either of you said that out loud.

But suddenly there was a lot less steering, teaching, near-death commentary.

And a lot more sitting close together while pretending you still had important water sports business to attend to.

Eventually, Cameron maneuvered the ski back toward the boat again, both of you laughing quietly when he nearly bumped the side too hard trying to dock it.

“That absolutely did not happen,” he muttered under his breath.

“It definitely happened.”

“Fake news.”

You smiled against the lingering warmth still buzzing low in your chest as Cameron tied the ski off again with deeply concentrated seriousness.

Mostly because he kept glancing back at you every few seconds like he still couldn’t entirely believe he’d kissed you. Or maybe that you’d kissed him back. The expression was dangerously cute.

The two of you ended up sitting on the back edge of the boat afterward with your feet dangling into the lake water.

The sun sat lower now. Warmer. Everything was painted gold around the edges.

The water lapped softly against your calves while the boat drifted lazily with the current.

Cameron handed you a bottled water from the cooler before twisting open one for himself.

His sunglasses had finally been abandoned somewhere near the console. His baseball cap sat backward now after being adjusted approximately thirty times throughout the day.

He looked relaxed in a way you hadn’t seen before. Not performatively relaxed. Actually relaxed. Like somewhere over the course of the afternoon, he’d stopped trying so hard to be anything.

For a while, the two of you just sat there quietly. Comfortably quiet. The kind that felt full instead of awkward.

You stole a chip from the open bag resting beside him.

Immediately: “Wow.”

You glanced over innocently. “What?”

“That was my emotional support snack.”

“You stole half of mine earlier.”

“That was before we entered a committed relationship.”

You nearly choked laughing. Cameron grinned immediately at the sound, ducking his head slightly like he couldn’t help himself.

God.

Everything about this felt frighteningly easy now.

The teasing. The closeness. The way his knee kept bumping lightly against yours without either of you moving away.

You glanced out across the lake again. The water glittered endlessly beneath the lowering sun.

“It’s really pretty out here,” you said quietly.

Cameron looked at you instead of the lake.

“Yeah,” he said softly.

Your stomach flipped again. Dangerous. Very dangerous.

You smiled faintly and nudged his shoulder with yours. “You’re getting smoother.”

“No, I’m absolutely not.”

“That was almost impressive.”

“I panicked halfway through saying it.”

You laughed quietly again.

Cameron watched you for another second before leaning back slightly on his hands. The breeze moved softly through his hair beneath the backward cap now. For once, he didn’t seem desperate to fill every silence immediately. When he finally spoke again, his voice came quieter. More thoughtful.

“I actually spent…” He huffed a small laugh at himself. “Way too long researching stuff for today.”

You looked over. His expression had softened again. That same open honesty he slipped into sometimes when he forgot to hide behind jokes.

“Like embarrassing amounts of time,” he admitted. “There were spreadsheets involved at one point.”

You stared at him. “Spreadsheets?”

“In fairness, I immediately realized that was insane.”

“But you still made them.”

“Briefly.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. But your chest ached a little now, too.

Because suddenly the whole day rearranged itself in your mind:

the packed snacks

the towels

the sunscreen

the nervous chatter

the way he’d watched your reactions to everything

how hard he’d tried to make sure you were comfortable

This hadn’t been random. This mattered to him. A lot.

Cameron picked at the label on his water bottle absently before speaking again. Still looking out at the water this time.

“I dunno,” he said quietly. “I just wanted to do something good with you.”

Simple. No performance underneath it. No attempt to make the moment bigger than it was. Just honesty. And somehow that hit harder than anything else he could’ve said.

Your throat tightened unexpectedly.

Because Cameron looked almost nervous again after admitting it. Like maybe he’d said too much.

You reached over without really thinking and nudged your shoulder gently against his.

“You did,” you said softly.

Cameron looked over immediately. Something warm and vulnerable flickered across his face so quickly it almost hurt to look at directly.

Then, because he was still Cameron, he ruined the emotional tension within approximately three seconds.

“Good,” he said with exaggerated seriousness. “Because if you hated this, I was gonna have to fake my own death and move.”

Eventually, the sun began slipping lower toward the horizon. Slowly at first. Then all at once.

The bright afternoon light softened into deep gold across the water, turning the entire lake warm and glowing around them. The distant shoreline blurred hazy beneath the sunset while long streaks of orange reflected across the surface in shimmering ribbons.

Cameron looked out across the lake and sighed quietly.

“Okay,” he admitted. “This is kinda insane.”

You smiled beside him. “The spreadsheets paid off.”

He snorted softly. “Don’t validate the spreadsheets.”

Still, he looked pleased with himself. A little shy about it too.

Eventually the two of you packed things back into the cooler and untied the jet ski from the boat again, though this time there was no rush to get anywhere.

No nervous energy left. No pressure. Just the quiet understanding settling between you now. Something had shifted today. Something real.

Cameron started the boat again, the motor humming softly beneath the golden evening air.

You settled naturally beside him on the bench seat this time.

Closer than before. Not because either of you acknowledged it. You just did.

Your thigh rested lightly against his now with every gentle movement of the boat.

Cameron didn’t move away. Didn’t seem capable of moving away anymore, honestly.

The lake had gone quieter at sunset. Most of the other boats were distant now, reduced to tiny silhouettes near the shoreline.

Only the steady hum of the engine and the soft rush of water followed them across the lake.

For a while, neither of you spoke much. The silence felt different now. Full. Comfortable.

Cameron kept one hand loosely on the wheel while the other rested near his knee, sunglasses abandoned completely now as the wind pushed softly through his hair.

You watched the sunlight flicker gold across his face for a moment before looking back out at the water again.

Everything about this felt suspended somehow.

Like one of those moments you already knew you’d miss before it was even over.

The boat drifted over a small wake. Without really thinking about it, your shoulder leaned lightly against Cameron’s. He glanced over instantly. Not startled. Just soft.

Then, carefully, almost like he was checking whether it was okay, his hand found yours resting between you on the seat. Warm fingers. Slightly tentative at first. You intertwined them immediately.

Cameron exhaled softly through his nose. Something about that tiny movement nearly undid him. Because this, right here, felt bigger than the kiss somehow.

Not dramatic. Not overwhelming. Just real. Steady. Like maybe neither of you were pretending anymore.

He rubbed his thumb absently against the back of your hand while steering one-handed with the other.

“You know,” he said eventually, voice quieter in the evening light, “I really thought there was a strong possibility we were both ending up stranded out here.”

You laughed softly. “You absolutely thought that.”

“I brought emergency granola bars.”

“That’s not survival equipment.”

“It is emotionally.”

You shook your head, smiling.

Cameron grinned too, but it faded softer this time as he looked back toward the lake stretching gold around them.

For the first time in a long time, his chest didn’t feel tight with panic about the future.

Didn’t feel hollow.

His life still wasn’t figured out. He still didn’t know exactly where he was headed. There were still pieces of himself he was trying to put back together.

But sitting here with your hand in his while the sun sank slowly across the water, for once, none of that uncertainty felt unbearable.

Because he wasn’t alone inside it anymore.

You rested your head gently against his shoulder after another quiet minute passed.

Cameron went still for half a second.

Then smiled.

Small. Private. Almost disbelieving.

The kind of smile that only happened when he forgot to hide what he was feeling.

The boat carried the two of you slowly across the glowing water toward shore while the last light of summer evening wrapped softly around everything.

And somewhere deep down, beneath all the noise Cameron usually carried around inside himself, hope settled quietly for the first time in a very long while.