Bree I opened the door to the hut. The girls inside immediately stopped talking, their heads turning in eerie unison to look at me. The conversation died mid-sentence, and all eyes landed on me with the same, unimpressed expression. They were flawless—at least, by a certain standard. Each one looked like a carbon copy of Jenna, the campus queen bee, as if being her clone had become the latest trend no one had told me about. They had that manufactured perfection down to a science—skintight clothes that seemed more suited for a club than a camp, high ponytails pulled so tight they looked like they were trying to give themselves a facelift, and layers of makeup expertly applied to sculpt and define their features until they barely looked real. I honestly didn’t understand the appeal. I’d never been one for caked-on foundation or heels that made walking feel like a contact sport. How they managed to teeter around all day on those narrow stilts without toppling over was a mystery I didn’t particularly want to solve. “You’re Bree Morgan?” one of the girls asked, arching a perfectly drawn-on brow. Her hip jutted out, and her fingers idly twirled a lock of her glossy hair as if the motion helped her concentrate. “That’s me,” I said with what I hoped was a warm, friendly smile. It felt a bit forced at the corners, but I was trying—I really was. I didn’t want to make enemies on the first day. We were going to be sharing this space for the next six weeks, and getting along with them would make things infinitely easier. The hut itself was modest, almost bare. One open room with worn wooden floors, two sets of bunk beds positioned against opposite walls, and a small, closet-sized bathroom tucked into one corner. The place had the distinct smell of pine and dust, and the windows, though streaked with grime, offered a view of towering trees just outside, their green leaves filtering the summer sunlight. Cozy, in a rustic, shared-cabin kind of way. The girl who had spoken rolled her eyes dramatically and huffed out a breath. “I thought you’d be prettier,” she said, loud enough for it to sting. Laughter erupted from the other girls as they grabbed their bags and filed out, brushing past me like I was invisible. Or worse, like I was unworthy of even a second glance. A cold, sinking feeling settled in my stomach. It was clear—they already knew who I was. They’d seen the f*******: post. The one that made me look like something I wasn’t. Something ugly, something dishonest. I could see it in their smirks, their eyes that skimmed over me with practiced judgment. I already knew—getting along with them wasn’t in the cards. Still, I tried to claim a space like it mattered. I tucked my duffel bag beneath the bottom bunk on the left side, hoping it hadn’t already been claimed. The sheets were still crisp, and no other belongings were scattered nearby, so I took my chances. I pulled out my miniature self-care kit—my little ritual, the one I always packed no matter where I went. I applied a swipe of chapstick, trying to soothe my dry lips. Then I rubbed some lotion onto my hands, the floral scent grounding me slightly. With the leftover moisture, I lightly patted my face. Just enough to feel refreshed. My gaze drifted around the hut, taking in the wooden walls, the light filtering through the trees, the stillness that came from being surrounded by nature. Outside these four walls, I had a chance to start over—to meet someone who didn’t already have an opinion about me. “You can do this, Bree,” I murmured to myself, rising from the bed and walking toward the door. My voice was soft but hopeful. Outside, people were already gathering, clumped in groups by the fire pit and benches near the center of camp. My eyes swept over the crowd as I whispered, “Be your best self. How can they not love you?” I meant it as a pep talk, though I didn’t expect anyone to hear me. But someone did. I felt it before I saw it—the shift in energy, the quiet awareness that I wasn’t alone. I turned my head, and there he was. Adonis. Standing by his own cabin, eyes locked onto me, green and intense, and his lips curled into a wide, knowing grin. My breath caught. He had definitely heard me. He gave a small shake of his head, amused, and then turned to join the others gathering near the center of camp. I stood frozen, mortified. “Stupid,” I whispered, this time making sure it was barely audible, before quickly walking toward the crowd, heart thudding in my chest. I made it a point to steer clear of Adonis, putting as much distance between us as I could manage. The last thing I needed was to draw more attention to myself. I just wanted to blend in now, to disappear into the crowd. That’s when Derek stepped back onto the bench, clapping his hands for attention. “Hope you all found a bed to sleep in tonight,” he said, a grin playing at his lips. A few guys let out barks of laughter, and some girls giggled in response. “But right now, we’re just a bunch of strangers. So, we’re going to do something to fix that,” he continued. “We’re gonna have a little speed-dating round—only not romantic,” he added quickly. “Everyone, find five people you’ve never seen before in your life. Introduce yourselves, tell them a little something about you. Just… get to know each other.” “The trick is,” Rachel chimed in, raising her hand in the air as she tried to grab all our attention, “you only have three minutes with the person you’re talking to, and then we’re shifting to another!” “Names are f*****g hard,” Derek added with a shrug and a crooked grin. “So please add something fun to them, something unique, so we have a reason to remember you! Alright, start mingling now!” Immediately, the group began to stir, people laughing awkwardly and glancing around, everyone moving in a kind of chaotic, self-conscious shuffle as they tried to find someone to pair off with. There was a nervous energy in the air—like the first day of school, but outdoors, and with a lot more pine trees. I stood still for a moment, uncertain, trying to scan the crowd and make eye contact with someone. This kind of thing had always been one of my biggest pet peeves: being expected to walk up to a complete stranger and force a connection for the sake of participation. I didn’t like it. I never had. I always worked better alone. I was just about to reluctantly take a step forward when I felt a warm hand land gently on my upper arm. I turned my head, startled, and found myself staring up into a pair of deep brown eyes—warm, inviting, smiling right at me. “Hey, I don’t know you,” he said with a grin, his voice smooth and casual. That smile made something flutter in my chest. “I don’t know you either,” I replied, unable to keep the slight flush from rising to my cheeks. Seriously—did all the guys here just grow up built differently? Because, holy hell. His skin was a rich, dark brown that practically glowed in the afternoon light, his hair was cut close to his scalp, and his jawline looked like it had been carved with intention. His lips were full and expressive, and his eyes radiated an easy confidence. Everything about him was, frankly, distracting in the best possible way. “I’m Caleb,” he said, holding out his hand. “I’m Bree,” I answered, shaking it. His grip was firm but warm, and it made me feel oddly seen. “So, Bree, tell me something about yourself,” he asked, folding his arms behind his back in a casual gesture that somehow made his already broad chest look even wider. “What would you like to know?” I asked, attempting to hold eye contact but failing every couple of seconds because of how distracting his smile was. “You going to college yet?” he asked, flashing a grin that was blindingly white and effortlessly charming. “I’m starting at Sierra after this,” I said, my voice picking up a little. “What about you?” “No way!” he chuckled, his shoulders shaking slightly. “I’m gonna be a sophomore there next year.” My interest immediately sparked. Just knowing someone who was already going to Sierra—someone friendly—felt like a stroke of luck. It grounded me. I now had a name and a face I could maybe count on once the school year began. “Really? What’s your major?” I asked, genuinely curious now, the conversation suddenly feeling a little easier. “I’m majoring in econ,” he said, rolling his eyes a little, like it was more of a necessity than a passion. “Mostly so I know how to read my contract properly once the NFL gets their sights on me.” “You play football?” I asked, my voice dropping a notch without me even realizing it. The flicker of excitement dimmed just a little. I already knew how this went. If he was on the football team, then eventually, he’d meet Oliver. And once Oliver started talking, I’d be the subject of whispers and rumors all over again. “I sure do,” he grinned, oblivious to my subtle shift in mood. “I’m gonna be the next captain, just wait and see.” Before I could respond, Derek’s voice rang out from across the field. “Time’s up! Switch partners!” Caleb looked at me again, still smiling. “Maybe we should talk a little later, Bree?” “Sure,” I said, giving him a quick smile in return. As he walked away to find someone new, I was already scanning for another partner, my pulse quickening at the thought of yet another awkward introduction.