A round of groans carries through the night.

“Oh, I know. You guys need to learn to be more quiet if you want to get away with this. Come on, get to your cabins now!”

Kyle sighs.

“Tomorrow?” I murmur against his lips, letting my hand drift down over him once again.

The strangled sound coming from his throat makes me smile.

“Darian is going to murder you two!” Ashley whisper-squeals as Eric and Kyle coast up the pathway, one after another, in the camp’s golf carts. It’s after eleven at night, and the ground is still soggy following an afternoon of heavy rain that kept the campers cooped up in the rec center and under the pavilion. Despite the two-hour-long dance and camper awards ceremony tonight, it still took almost an hour to get them settled—their last night at Wawa—too much unspent energy coursing through their little limbs.

Much like the counselors, it would seem.

“Nah, her lights are off. All those cheesy dance moves tired her out.” Eric eases off the path and pulls up next to Kyle’s golf cart. “First one to the badminton course wins. Whichever route you want, but grass only.”

“You are crazy.” Ashley shakes her head but trots to take a seat next to Eric, grinning.

Kyle gestures to the vacant spot beside him.

This is probably a bad idea, I note as I slide in, huddling close as if I’m chilled, though the night air is sticky and warm. “Hey,” I whisper, pressing my lips against his cheek.

He turns toward me, stealing a kiss. “Miss me?”

“So much.” Even though we were never more than ten feet apart all afternoon—by coincidence or by design.

He smiles and releases a low groan that I feel deep inside.

The whir of Eric’s golf cart sounds.

“Hey!”

I squeal and grab the cart’s frame as we lurch forward. Kyle chases Eric, veering off the path and onto the grassy field, bumping and jostling us both as we try to get around him. Ashley peers back at us, her hair a frizzy halo, as she eggs Eric on. “Faster! Faster!” she calls through her laughs.

It’s not a surprise that they beat us to the badminton court.

“That wasn’t even remotely fair,” Kyle chides.

Eric throws his hands in the air. “Maybe if you stopped sucking face for two minutes . . .”

Kyle rolls his eyes but smirks. “First one to the kayak rack?”

“You’re on.”

“I’m driving!” Ashley proclaims.

Eric gestures over himself in the sign of the cross.

“Oh, shut up.” She smacks his hand, then nods toward me. “It’s our turn, right?”

“I guess so?” Part of me wants to cross myself, too, and not in a joking way. “I’ve never driven one of these, though.”

“It’s easy. Here.” Kyle grabs my waist and hoists me with seeming ease onto his lap, giving me a thirty-second push-this-pedal-to-go-forward-and-turn-this-wheel-to-steer lesson, all while I’m acutely aware of the feel of his growing need against my backside.

“Ready?” Ashley chirps, already in position to drive, her fists gripping the black wheel with purpose.

“Hold on.” We shift places so I’m settled in the driver’s seat.

“Okay. So . . .” Kyle leans in and drops his voice to a low murmur. “They’re going to go that way.” He nods to the left. “But there’s a better way, around the other side of the totem pole.”

“Down the hill?”

“Shh . . . Just to the right of it. I’ve done it before. Trust me. Eric won’t think of it, so pretend you’re following them until we reach . . .” I listen intently as he gives me directions, trying to ignore the feel of his lips grazing my ear as he tries to hide our plan from our competitors.

“What’s he saying?” Eric calls out, his eyes narrowing with wariness.

“To drive safely,” I answer, with mock innocence.

We take off at the same time, with Ashley squealing and Eric shushing her. We’re far enough away from the cabins to keep from waking the campers, but not that far away from Darian’s cabin.

“Now!” Kyle demands and I veer off to the right, the cart bouncing over the divots in the grass. “Around that tree!”

I grit my teeth to keep from squealing, too, as I bank around an enormous oak and then speed down the hill and across another stretch of open space toward the lake, a mix of terror and exhilaration coursing through my veins.

“There they are. We have to get to the path by the lake before them.” Kyle points at the other cart, speeding toward us, its dim headlights flickering with each bump. “Shit, they’re gonna beat us!”

“The hell they are.” I jam my foot down on the cart’s pedal, goading the cart to its maximum speed, which isn’t that fast, but in the dark, on rough terrain, I may as well be racing my mom’s Porsche.

“Piper . . .”

“We’re going to make it.” My hands tighten around the steering wheel.

“Shit, shit, shit . . .” Kyle grips the cart’s frame, bracing himself.

“Oh my God!” Ashley shrieks.

I cut in front of them and swerve onto the path, earning Kyle’s “Holy shit!”

And that’s when it all goes to hell.

The path cuts more sharply to the right than I expected, and I’m going too fast to try to correct us.

We crash into the lake.

Darian’s Elmo sleeping attire isn’t nearly as comical tonight as it was the night of the bat incident.

Maybe it’s because she trudged out in her rubber boots just in time to watch Kyle, Eric, and two guys who were by the beach at the time of the accident pull the submerged golf cart out of the lake.

Or maybe it’s because the four of us are lined up against the rec center wall like it’s some kind of firing squad drill and I half-expect Darian to pull out a rifle and end us. Her normally peppy personality has been replaced by a hard jaw and a stern glare.

“Do y’all realize how much each of those carts costs?” Her arms are crossed over her chest. “At least six grand each. At least! And maybe this one will run after it dries out and we assess the damage, but it’s likely going to need new parts! And think of what could have happened!”

Eric holds his wrist gingerly in front of him. He slammed it against the golf cart’s frame when Ashley maneuvered to avoid crashing with the maniac—me—who was barreling toward her.

“Go to the kitchen and get some ice on that,” she says in a clipped tone.

“It’s fine—” he begins to say.

“Now!” Darian barks.

Eric flashes wide eyes our way before ducking his head and trudging into the kitchen.

Ashley and I exchange a look that confirms what we both know—we are in deep shit.

Darian takes an exaggerated, calming breath. “Okay. Tell me exactly what happened.”

I open my mouth to take full blame.

“It’s my fault,” Kyle blurts out. “I bet Eric I could beat him in a race and I lost control.”

I glare at him. Is he nuts? He’s not taking the blame for this. “No, it was—”

“I convinced him to take the carts out of the lot,” he says over my voice, his hand grazing the small of my back. “I’m sorry. I screwed up, Dare.”