It was hard to be reasonable when he looked at me like that. He had those puppy eyes, soft and full of trust, that made it impossible to say no to him. He was so close I could count the freckles on his cheek, each one a little speck of light on his otherwise smooth skin.

“You promised you’d teach me, B.”

“Just wait until he puts you in classes,” I offered, trying to sound firm, but even I knew it wasn’t what I wanted. I wanted to be the one to show him the world he was so desperate to explore.

He shook his head. “I don’t want classes,” he said stubbornly. “I want you to teach me.” A moment later, he whispered, “Please, Beverly.”

And just like that, I caved.

I kept teaching him, over and over again.

We stole moments in the lake when Dad wasn’t watching, when Mom was inside making lemonade, when the world shrank down to just the two of us.

Blake learned quickly. His fear never stopped him from trying, from pushing, from perfecting. He still panicked sometimes, but he pushed past it, determined to master the water. And before I knew it, he was better than me.

One evening, as the sky melted into hues of pink and gold, he swam ten full laps around me without pausing for a breath. I watched, awe settling deep in my chest, as he surfaced beside me, his grin so wide it nearly hurt to look at.

“I wouldn’t have done it without you, Beverly.”

My heart did a weird thing in my chest.

Something I refused to acknowledge.

* * *

Hours later, I lay in my tent, listening to the muffled voices of children passing by.

They were whispering about ghosts in the woods, spinning tales of shadowy figures lurking just beyond the trees, which was ridiculous because I was pretty sure the scariest thing out there was whatever was currently in the communal campground bathroom. I’d have rather faced a ghost than stepped foot in there again.

Still, I pulled my sleeping bag up to my chin, listening as footsteps crunched against the dirt path. Someone laughed, but it had that forced, nervous edge to it, like they were trying to convince themselves they weren’t scared.

I rolled onto my side, staring at the green fabric of my tent, my mind suddenly restless. Shadows flickered across the tent walls, cast by their flashlights as they hurried by.

I wasn’t scared, but I wasn’t not scared either.

After a while, I couldn’t take it anymore.

I knew Blake was still awake. He never went to bed early—always reading, always thinking.

I took a shaky breath before deciding to move.