Gage I didn’t know why, but I was drawn instantly. This girl did something to me—something unfamiliar, something unexpected, something I hadn’t tried to make sense of before. I wasn’t the kind of guy to fall head over heels for someone, not the type to fixate on anyone, and definitely not the type to practically stalk someone across a campsite. I didn’t drool over people. That just wasn’t me. But her? The shy girl? The one who smiled quietly to herself, who mumbled little pep talks like no one was listening? She seemed to spark something in me that I didn’t even know I had. She wasn’t like the girls I usually noticed—not the loud, flashy, look-at-me type. She was almost the exact opposite, and that seemed to be exactly what flipped the switch in my brain. My caveman instincts apparently had a mind of their own, and they had made their decision. Her blonde hair was tucked messily into a bun at the back of her head, a few strands having escaped to frame her face. She wore oversized clothing that somehow made her even more intriguing—like she was deliberately hiding, like she didn’t want to be seen, and yet I couldn’t stop looking. Her dark blue-rimmed glasses perched on her nose, making her wide, clear blue eyes stand out even more. It was like everything about her—down to the slight way her shoulders curved inward, like she was trying to take up less space—was screaming: Notice me, Gage! So I did. I noticed everything. I noticed how she looked rattled when Derek and Rachel explained the mingling exercise, how her eyes darted around as if searching for a way out. I noticed how she spoke to Caleb—my biggest fan, who acted like I was some kind of celebrity. I noticed the way she kept glancing around nervously, her eyes occasionally landing on me, then quickly diverting as if caught doing something she wasn’t supposed to. Every part of her behavior fascinated me. She was everything I hadn’t tried before. Everything unfamiliar. Both my mom and sister were the kind of women who dominated any room—outgoing, energetic, the ones who were always in the center of attention. They thrived off social interaction, like they couldn’t function unless they had someone to talk to. But this girl? She seemed totally content in her own space, like she could stand in the corner for hours and be just fine. I found that captivating. I wanted to know what made her tick. I wanted to know why she kept to herself—and why that seemed so magnetic to me. When I felt the ruckus, when I felt that someone was creating a bad vibe, I couldn’t help but glance towards her, noticing Gabriella talking to her. And by the way she was crouching down, it didn’t seem like she actually enjoyed the conversation all that much. So when I ditched the guy I was talking to and moved over, I could see one of her goons recording it, I just lost it. Gabriella moved away when Rachel told us to find new partners, and I couldn’t help it. I just needed to make sure she was alright, that she wasn’t already planning her escape from this place. “Don’t listen to her,” I whispered to her, as others started their last conversation. And that was when she turned. She had the kind of nose people would call a button nose, with just the slightest slope to it. Her lips were parted ever so slightly, a subtle gloss making them shine. A few light freckles scattered across the bridge of her nose, perfectly framed by the glasses resting on top. And then her eyes—those ridiculously blue eyes—met mine again, wide with shock, like she hadn’t expected me to stand up for her. Like I was the last person she thought would walk up to her. “Hey,” I said, my voice coming out far rougher than I’d meant it to. “I’m Gage.” I was set on trying to make her feel better, on trying to get her to smile instead of the tears I saw lining the corners of her eyes. “I’m Bree,” she replied softly, her hand slowly lifting to meet mine. Her palm was unbelievably soft, and smaller than I expected—though it made sense, given she stood over a head and a half shorter than me. And then, because apparently my brain short-circuited under the pressure I was feeling, I asked, “Do you like cheese?” As soon as the words left my mouth, I regretted them. What kind of person asks that? Out of every possible conversation starter, I chose cheese? Her nose scrunched up slightly in the most adorable way, clearly showing it wasn’t her favorite topic. But then something shifted. Her expression softened, humor lighting her features, and a small, teasing smile appeared on her lips. And that looked a hell of a lot better than the frown she wore when I got here. Holy s**t. She was magnificent. “My dad actually really liked Brie,” she said, a soft almost delicate chuckle escaped, her voice like velvet. “God,” she added, heat blooming in her cheeks as her hands lifted to frame her face, “do you think I’m named after a f*****g cheese?” Relief flooded my chest. She wasn’t mocking me. She was playing along. She didn’t think I was a complete i***t—at least not yet. Or at least she was just trying to go with the flow, to actually try and make this experience better for herself as well. “I don’t know,” I said, shrugging as I tried to hide my grin. “You could be named after worse things.” Her eyes widened in mock horror, and then the smile grew, her whole face lighting up. “I actually know someone who was named after her dad’s pet goat from when he was a kid,” she said with a laugh. “No way,” I replied, laughing with her now, the tension between us dissolving a little. “What’s her name?” “Isabella,” she snorted, then clapped a hand over her mouth, trying to stifle the sound. “Isabella,” I echoed, drawing the name out with a deliberately goat-like bleat, which only made her laugh harder. Her laugh wasn’t loud or showy—it was soft and sincere, a sound that made something stir low in my chest. Watching her cover her mouth to stifle it just made me grin even wider. “I’d take cheese over goat every single day,” I added, shaking my head in exaggerated disbelief. “You’re right,” she said between quiet giggles, her shoulders bouncing gently with the motion. “Guess I dodged a bullet there.” She didn’t seem to laugh much—at least not in the way most people did—but when she did, it felt like the kind of laugh you wanted to earn again and again. That kind of warmth was rare, and the fact that I had sparked it gave me a little jolt of pride. “So tell me,” I said, casually reaching forward to give her forearm a quick tap, “what courses are you thinking of taking?” She let out a breath, one that seemed to carry more weight than the question should’ve called for. Her arms crossed instinctively over her stomach, almost like she was hugging herself. The move looked unconscious, like a shield, like comfort. I shouldn’t have noticed it—but I did. And yes—my caveman brain also noticed the way the motion pushed her chest up just slightly. I was only human. “I don’t really know,” she admitted after a beat, her voice quieter now, thoughtful. “I might do the bootcamp thing… because, well,” she gave a soft chuckle that didn’t quite meet her eyes, “I definitely need to learn something about working out.” The way she said it, the humor tucked into the edges of her voice, made me wonder what she was hiding. Like there was something behind the self-deprecation that I wasn’t meant to see. But it was there. A slight defense, maybe. Still, she kept going. “Definitely the book club,” she added, glancing off to the side for a moment before looking back at me, “maybe even the cooking class. What about you?” I jammed my hands deep into the pockets of my shorts, trying not to reach out again, trying not to do anything that might cross a line. I’d already touched her once—twice, really—and for someone like her, that probably carried weight. “I’m doing the bootcamp too,” I said casually, mostly because I help Derek out with the new people. “I’ll probably do the morning run and some of the football-related stuff. Maybe a few other sports classes too. But… I was thinking about taking the cooking class.” The truth was, I’d taken that course before—like I had with most of the others. This was my fourth year here, after all. But I didn’t mind repeating things. Especially if it meant being around her. I figured I could probably sweet-talk Rachel into pairing me up with Bree. If I was lucky, maybe I could burn a few cookies while pretending I didn’t already know how to make them. “You read a lot?” I asked, needing to hear more of her voice, needing to keep her talking. But before she could answer, Derek whipped out that damn foghorn and blasted it across the entire field like he was summoning a ship to dock. Bree flinched slightly at the sound, then turned toward Derek, her lips curling into an amused smile, almost like she’d expected him to do something over-the-top. “That was the unromantic speed dating for now!” Derek announced, his voice booming across the field. “I hope you found out something interesting—maybe someone you’d like to know more about. Either way, lunch is served! Get some before the ants do!” “Hey, Simmons!” Brad’s voice cut through the moment as he waved me over from a few feet away. “Come on, man, I’m f*****g starving!” I glanced back at Bree, catching the slight furrow in her brow as she looked from Brad to me. Like she was processing something. Piecing things together. “You wanna come eat with us?” I asked, jerking a thumb over my shoulder. Her blue eyes met mine again, a flicker of uncertainty still lingering. But then her features softened, like she realized I had actually invited her, like she wasn’t imagining it. “No, you just go ahead,” she said gently, nodding toward Rachel, who was now cornering Caleb with a clipboard and what looked like a passionate pitch for academic enrichment. “I was gonna talk to Rachel for a second.” I gave a quick nod, my hands digging deeper into my pockets than before. Truthfully, I wanted to scoop her up, toss her over my shoulder, and carry her to the food shack myself. But that might have been just a touch too much, so I settled for casual. “Guess I’ll see you later, then,” I said, trying hard not to sound like someone fully obsessed. A smile bloomed on her face, warm and real. “Sure thing, Adonis,” she replied, before turning on her heel and heading toward Rachel. I frowned, confused for a second. “My name is Gage!” I called after her, my voice carrying across the open field. She stopped, glanced back at me with wide eyes, and for a second, she looked almost horrified—like she’d said something she hadn’t meant to. “That’s what I said,” she called back quickly, before hurrying off even faster. And that’s when it hit me—Adonis. The Greek god. The ridiculously attractive one, right? A grin spread across my face like wildfire. If that was how she saw me… she could call me that for the rest of the summer.