I smile. “Yes. Definitely.”

Kyle is quiet as he leads me to the boys’ cabins. The boys’ and girls’ sides are virtually identical—a cluster of ten small brown rectangular buildings set beneath a canopy of leggy evergreens and elm trees, with a separate shower and restroom off to one side.

By the time we reach the one marked “Seventeen” and he guides me inside, my stomach is a twisted mess of nerves.

“Same as yours, right?”

“Pretty much.” Musty air that’s ten degrees hotter than outside, low ceiling, six sets of bunk beds, ink-covered walls where campers have scribbled their name to memorialize their attendance, the tacky orange-and-brown floral curtains . . . Check, check, check. Except . . . My nose crinkles. “It smells like dirty, wet socks?”

“Believe me, it has smelled a lot worse.” Kyle chuckles, tugging the curtains back and sliding open both windows all the way. “Sorry, I should have done that before we left.”

I wander over to the only bed with a pillow and sleeping bag on it. The bag has been unzipped and stretched out to cover the thin, single mattress, the end dangling off to graze the worn wood floor. I gingerly take a seat on the edge, my hand smoothing over the soft blue-and-red flannel interior. “This is you?”

“That’s me,” he murmurs softly.

Our eyes meet and lock.

“You good?” he asks.

“Yeah, why?”

“Nothing. Just . . . you’ve been acting weird since that phone call with your dad.” Kyle kicks off his shoes. “Thought maybe you were worried about pissing him off.”

“No. I’m not. He doesn’t get to decide who I’m with.” I set my jaw stubbornly, as if the small act of defiance gives weight to my declaration.

Kyle opens his mouth to answer but decides against it, instead tugging his wallet out of his back pocket, to toss onto the floor below his pillow.

Does he have a condom in there, I wonder?

I didn’t even think to ask about getting one.

My heart begins to race with the thought of what we’re about to do.

Am I really ready for this? We’ve kissed, a lot. We’ve fooled around, a bit.

Branches snap just outside and then a moment later Colin’s face pops up in front of the window. “Hey, Miller, you comin’ out to—” He cuts off when he sees me sitting on the bed. “Oh. Never mind. See you guys later.” With that, he’s gone, whistling to himself.

Kyle shakes his head. “Would people leave us alone for just one night?”

“It’s hard being so popular.”

“It is.” He drags the curtain closed and smacks the light switch, throwing us into darkness, save for the safety nightlight that each cabin has near the door. “There. Hopefully they’ll think I’m already out.”

I can just make out his outline as he strolls over to take a seat next to me, the rustic wood frame giving nothing under our combined weight.

He grazes my cheek with the backs of his knuckles. “This night is all I’ve been able to think about, all week long.”

“Me, too,” I admit, shifting to pull my leg up so I’m facing him.

Only he’s already moving with me, guiding me backward. The next thing I know, I’m on my back and Kyle is lying next to me, pressed up against my side, his fingers trailing along my collarbone.

How many times has he been with a girl before? We haven’t even talked about that. Shouldn’t we talk about that first?

I gather my nerve. “How many times have you done this?”

“Done what?” He says it so innocently.

I roll my eyes. “How many girls have you been with?”

“Do you mean—”

“Yeah.”

He doesn’t answer right away and I start to think he’s formulating a lie. But Kyle doesn’t seem the type to lie about how many girls he’s slept with. So he must be busy counting them all in his head. “Oh my God,” I mutter. “Don’t tell me—”

“Two.”

“Seriously.”

“Seriously. Two.”

“Who?”

He groans, like he doesn’t want to answer. “First was this girl Shannon, when I was fourteen. My brothers threw a party at our place while Mom was away and she was there. She was a couple years older. Never saw her again.” He pauses. “And then Avery, last summer.”

So they did sleep together.

My jealous flares, and that cynical voice creeps into my subconscious, wondering if I’m just the 2006 version of Kyle’s 2005 summer camp experience, if his summer itinerary would read the same—cliff jumping and golf-cart racing and cabin-sleeping—except with a different female lead.

“You’re nothing like her. This is nothing like last summer,” Kyle says, as if reading my mind. He leans in to fit his face into the crook of my neck. Hot, wet lips graze my skin.

I close my eyes, reveling in the feel. “How is it different?”

“Because I didn’t feel this way about her.”

“What way?” I push, because I need to hear him say it.

“Like I’m already doing the math on how much gas will cost to get from Poughkeepsie to Lennox when the summer’s over. And I’m wondering how much I can set aside in phone cards so I can text you.”

“I’ll send you cards,” I rush to say, my heart swelling as I shift onto my side so I’m facing him, our noses pressed together. “And I’m getting a car in the fall, so I can come out to see you, too. Every weekend. Or almost every weekend. I don’t know. I’ll try.”

“Your parents are going to let you do that?”

I burrow in closer, until we’re touching from our noses all the way to our toes and my arm is curled around him. “I don’t care. I’m coming.”

He presses his lips to mine. “I’m crazy about you, Piper.”

“I’m so crazy about you, Kyle.” I think I’m in love with you. The words are there, on the tip of my tongue, wanting to leap off.

He reaches up to stroke my hair off my face. “We’re not going to let things go too far tonight.”

“We’re not?”

“No. Shane said he’s going home next Saturday, too. There’s no rush, and I want you to want to.”

“I do want to,” I’m quick to say.

Kyle smiles softly. “I want you to be totally ready.”

I can’t answer as quickly. Maybe because I know I’m trying to convince myself more than him. I do want to be with Kyle but maybe I need more time. The fact that my body relaxed the second he said that confirms it.

It has only been three weeks. Three of the best weeks of my life, but still, only three weeks.

“So what are we going to do, then?”

“I was thinking we could start with this . . .” He gently pushes my shoulder until I’m lying on my back again and then leans over to press his mouth against mine, his tongue sliding over the seam of my lips until I allow him in.

I could get lost in Kyle’s mouth for days, the way he kisses—with such focus, as if he’d be satisfied going no farther—intoxicating.

And at the same time frustrating, as my body begins to ache for more.