“A party sounds good,” Willa says, going down into the cabin. “I’m ready to get off this boat for a while.”

Willa

WILLA GLANCES UP FROM THE Captain Norm book as Campbell comes walking up the dock from the showers. He’s wearing black jeans—the ones he wears almost constantly—but he’s traded a baggy skateboarder T-shirt for a black button-down. His hair is slicked back from his face, and he is so beautiful that Willa has to force herself to look away so she can catch her breath.

“You even shaved,” she teases as he steps aboard the boat. “The girls at the party don’t stand a chance now.”

The corner of his mouth hitches up. “Does that include you?”

“I’m not your type.”

He drops onto the cockpit bench beside her. He smells good, like Castile soap and waxy pomade and just . . . him. “I think you’re exactly my type. Just not sure why you’re afraid to admit it.”

“I am not afraid.”

His breath is warm against her ear as he whispers, “Then say it, Willa. Admit you want me as much as I want you.”

“That’s not true,” she says, though he is right about everything. She aches with wanting him, but Campbell Nicholson is the human equivalent of a bug zapper. Girls are lured in by his beautiful face, then burned when he gets bored with them. Willa doesn’t want to be that kind of girl, but whenever he is near—when all she can hear is the rush of blood in her ears—it would be so easy to let him incinerate her.

He laughs as he stands. “Whatever you say.”

Taylor returns from the showers wearing a navy-and-white-striped T-shirt dress with her flip-flops. Her toenails and fingernails are all painted turquoise.

“You look super cute,” Willa says as three of them walk through the marina parking lot to the main road.

“Same.”

Willa’s multicolored off-the-shoulder top is one that Finley had bought for herself but never got around to wearing. The tags were still attached when Finley gifted it to Willa. This is the first time she’s worn the top, pairing it with a dusty pink corduroy overall skirt she found at Goodwill. “Thanks.”

Oswego reminds Willa of Sandusky, the streets lined with the same kinds of houses, the same kinds of trees. Nothing special, but at the same time, a good place to live. They turn onto a smaller side street where cars are parked bumper to bumper all the way down the block.

“This party is definitely going to get busted,” Cam says. “If we get separated, meet at the big park we passed on our way.”