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“Alvin.”

His fingers loosened around my wrist. The joke fell out of his face, leaving something much more dangerous behind. Hope.

I couldn’t look at it. I pulled my hand away and stood. “We need to get back to the cabins.”

“Probably.”

“Change clothes.”

“Definitely.”

“Don’t tell anyone,” I whispered that last one.

He tilted his head. “About which part?”

“All of it.”

“The masked vigilante attack, the attempted murder, the heroic rescue, or the mouth-to-mouth?”

“I swear to God…”

He stood too, water trickling down from the ends of his hair and his hands tucked into his hoodie pocket. He was still smirking and so fucking cocky that it both irritated me and put me at ease at the same time.

“You know,” I said, “most people say thank you after receiving CPR.”

“I was faking.” He shrugged.

“I didn’t know that at the time,” I reminded him.

“Which makes it much funnier.”

“It makes you a psychopath.”

He stepped closer. I should have moved away. I didn’t. The air felt charged, the way it always did before a storm. His eyes dropped to my mouth. My entire body remembered the weight of his lips, and my pulse reacted before my brain could intervene.

His voice softened. “You did want to kiss me.”

I stared at him. “Yes,” I admitted.

His smile faded. Mine was never there. The truth was… I’d meant to deny it. I’d meant to insult him, push him away, say anything that would put the world back the way I knew it.

But I was tired…

“Yes,” I repeated. “I wanted to kiss you.”

Alvin’s breath caught. I stepped closer, close enough to see the little droplets of water clinging to his lashes.

“But I shouldn’t have,” I said.

His face tightened. Because this was the familiar dance we did. And we were at the part where I ruined it. The part where I always ruined it.

“I know,” he sighed. Acceptance. Acceptance hurt more than anger would have.

I looked towards the cabins. The trees stood black against the sky, hiding the rest of camp from us. “I’m sorry.”

Alvin laughed. “For the kiss or the lake?”

“Both.”