The next morning, the sun spilled golden over the campgrounds, but Naya didn't feel it.
She was already up before the counselors called for roll, pulling on a hoodie and slipping out of the dorm before anyone could stop her.
Lucien was waiting by the dining tent. He looked like he hadn't slept much—hair a mess, shadows under his eyes. He scanned the crowd until he spotted her.
"Naya—"
She didn't stop.
She didn't even look.
Just kept walking, earbuds in, pretending she didn't hear a thing.
Lucien's chest tightened, but he didn't follow. Not yet.
---
Later – Group Activity by the Lake
Everyone had been paired off again, this time for canoe drills and water relay races.
Lucien tried to angle toward her group. Tried to catch her eye.
She stood across the water, laughing at something Nora said, but the smile never reached her eyes. When her gaze swept past Lucien, she didn't flinch—but she didn't pause either.
It was like he didn't exist.
Jessica noticed.
She walked past him slowly, flipping her hair. "Wow. She's good at the cold shoulder thing."
He didn't answer.
---
Evening – Campfire Circle
That night, students sat in circles around the firepit, roasting marshmallows and telling embarrassing stories. Naya sat near the far edge of the group, far enough that the firelight barely touched her face.
Lucien saw her. Again.
He didn't approach. Just watched.
She was tucked into herself, hands around her knees, staring into the flames like they might burn away the hurt if she just stayed long enough.
And when she finally stood to leave—early—Lucien did too.
But before he could catch up, Kelvin stepped beside her, gently steering her away from the crowd. Lucien froze in his tracks.
Naya didn't look back once.
---
Later – Lucien's Cabin Porch
Lucien sat on the wooden steps of his cabin, staring out into the dark. The woods were quiet, except for the wind and the occasional crack of a twig.
He replayed everything. The look on her face. The way her voice broke when she shouted. The fact that she hadn't spoken a single word to him since.
He hadn't just lost her trust.
He'd made her feel small.
He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and whispered to himself:
"I messed it up."
And the worst part?
He didn't know how to fix it.