“It’s not a project, not really. It’s a three-day epic art … adventure.”

“Three days of … art.”

I laugh at her reaction to that one word—like it’s some kind of torture—and it sounds so loud cutting through the quiet night air around us. “Days, maybe nights. Three days, maybe more. Don’t sound so excited. This probably isn’t the kind of art you’re thinking of. We’re not going to sit at my house and do oil paintings.” I bump my shoulder into hers, and then I stay there, pressed up against her.

“So what are we doing?” She says it in almost a whisper, maybe because it is, or maybe because we’re so close now, we don’t need more than a whisper.

“I can’t tell you until I know you’re in.” I turn toward her, my face a forced mask of composure as I look her right in the eyes. “Are you in, Olivia?”

OLIVIA

Aiden’s eyes have drifted past me now. To the sky, probably—it’s an amazingly clear night and out here away from everything the sky is lit up. I take a moment to look him over—the broad shoulders, the smooth planes of his chest under his t-shirt, the strong, perfect jaw. Three nights with Aiden Emerson. The words sitting on my lips, threatening to plunge off, are “hell yes.” I don’t say them, because he’s still Aiden Emerson, and I’m still me. This all feels a little like the plot of some nineties teen movie. At the end of night three, I end up a victim of the world’s most epic makeover, or deserted on someone’s front lawn as I throw paint-filled water balloons at the house of some carefully chosen victim. Probably the principal. I’m taken to jail, and Aiden is never seen again. Not with me, at least.

Maybe he has a superhot popular girlfriend I don’t know about? I can see it in my mind—the squishy balloon in my hand, the acrylic paint smearing my arms. I can see the look on my face when my mother—my legal guardian—has to pick me up. “I’ll think about it,” I tell him.

He nods and turns back toward the fire. Jaz is in the middle of a story about an old guy who rented a kayak and stranded himself in the middle of Loon Lake when he lost his paddle. Another renter called in for him and by the time staff showed up in the motor boat, he was hanging off of the back of his kayak, trying to kick his way to shore.