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to the side, expecting to see a bird or a squirrel or something, when I met a face. My hands flew to my mouth, barely containing my squeal of fear, the curtain dropping back into place. With my heart racing, I took several deep breaths, then moved the curtains again. My brain hadn’t made it up—Brooks was standing outside my window, an impatient expression on his face. This time, he pointed. I assumed that meant he wanted me to go to the front door. I nodded.

Why was he here? Was he going to reiterate the fact that we shouldn’t have been at band practice the night before? That we had caused too much tension and distracted everyone? It seemed like an extreme way to get that message across. Maybe this was just the time he started his workday.

I slid out of bed and tiptoed to the bedroom door. I opened it as quietly as possible and shut it slowly, using both hands. I walked toward the front door, then found myself stopping at the bathroom and checking my reflection in the mirror. It wasn’t good. My normally straight brown hair stuck out in a spectacular display of bedhead, and sure enough, a long line of notebook-spine bumps decorated my cheek. I rubbed at them without any luck, and even though he’d already seen me, I quickly ran a brush through my hair, grabbed a tie, and pulled it up. I moved to leave, then stopped and squeezed a bead of toothpaste onto my finger. Morning breath was not good for anyone.

The rest of the house was quiet, my parents obviously still asleep, as I finished my walk through the living room and went out the front door. I didn’t see Brooks right away and was beginning to think I had imagined him. That he was part of some weird dream my brain had concocted and that maybe I was still in that dream.

Then a movement down the path caught my eye. He was leaning against a tree, waiting. I realized I hadn’t put on shoes. I held up my finger to him, opened the front door again, and grabbed the first pair of flip-flops I could find by the wall. I slipped them on and walked down the gravel path. A squirrel scurried across the rocks in front of me and up a tree. A crow squawked what seemed to be a morning wakeup call from a high perch in a pine tree up ahead. But other than that, the morning was quiet, not the normal low murmur of camp.

“Hi,” I said when I stood in front of Brooks.

His eyes were on my too-big shoes.

“They’re my dad’s,” I said.

“Are you going to be able to walk in them?”

“Yes. But why do I have to walk in them?” I looked down at my feet. I really didn’t want to have to walk too far in them. Why was he even here? “About last night, I know my sister is a lot. And I didn’t mean to start a fight…”

He narrowed his eyes in confusion. “What? You have a phone call.”

“Oh.” I had a phone call. “Wait…What?”

“A phone call. Someone called you at the pay phone.”

“What pay phone? Is there a pay phone at the lodge?”

“No…” He seemed to assess my sincerity. “Up at the employee cabins.”

“Someone called me? Who?”

“I don’t know.”

“And they asked for me? By name?”

“No, they asked me to find just any cute brunette and I chose you,” he said. “Of course they asked for you by name. Why else would I be here at six-thirty in the morning unless some person made the phone ring for ten minutes straight?”

“I…” He probably wanted me to just say thank you and take my phone call so he could move on with his day, but my stomach was now in knots and all the blood seemed to drain from my face. “Who was it?”

“I don’t know. Probably whoever you gave the phone number to.”

I shook my head. “I didn’t give it to anyone. I didn’t even know it existed.”

“Okay,” he said like he didn’t quite believe me. “Do you want to take the call or not?”

“No…Yes…I don’t know.”

“Are you always this indecisive?”

I’d never thought I was before a few days ago, but now it seemed that’s all I was. His question motivated me to action, and I started walking in the direction of the employee cabins. He matched my pace.

“What did she say?” I was assuming it was Shay, somehow figuring out how to get ahold of me. But what if it wasn’t? What if it was Trent?

“Who?” Brooks asked.

“The person on the phone.” A morning jogger ran past and Brooks put some space between us. “Was it a girl?”

“Yes.”

“Did she say anything?”

He laughed without humor. “She was very demanding. Told me she had to talk to you or her life would be over. Told me I had to go down and wake you up despite the fact that she’d just woken up the entire employee village. Told me she’s been trying to get ahold of you all weekend.”

“I’m sorry,” I said. Why did something else have to happen that made him think I was super entitled?

“It’s fine,” he said, seeming to realize how grumpy he sounded. “It’s just early.”

I gave a breathy laugh. “Too early.”

He pointed at his cheek. “What’s on your face?”

I rubbed at the marks again. “Oh, a project I’m working on.”

“Um…”

“No, this isn’t the project. I was writing in a notebook. This is the notebook.”

“Oh, yeah, I can see it now. Spiral bound. Seventy pages?” He smirked.

“An amazing guitar player and a notebook expert? Stop stealing all the talents.”

He gave a half-smile. “I’ll try.”

As we headed up an incline, my feet slid in the flip-flops. I curled my toes to hold them in place.

He noticed me falling behind. “Why didn’t you grab your own shoes?”

“Because you were standing there waiting for me and I didn’t think we were going on a hike and I’m an idiot.”

“No, an

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