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foreveralwaysanauthor · 1 year

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Camp Wanamaker (Ch. 2/10)

June 24, 2023

Notes - Guess who had one of the busiest weeks of her life, yet still managed to write 35 pages - that’s right, it’s me! Guess who also forgot that Royce's birthday falls halfway through the week and she had already written out the day it takes place on, so she had to go back and add a hint at his birthday being, you know, a thing... Yeah, also me.

Chapter 2 - Gives You Hell

Sundays, typically, were free days in the O’Brian household. Before Damien and Chelsea’s separation, they spent Sundays doing something as a family. Bowling, arcades, go-kart racing, and visits to museums became the norm until everything was finalized. Although the pair chose to stay in the same house to take care of the children and watch them grow together, Sundays were a common thread of adventures and excitement they would spend as a family. Over time, however, the excitement faded as schedules filled up and the children grew interests of their own. Though there were the occasional Sundays spent in the back pew of the church in the next town over or attempting to have fun at the town’s practically unused candlepin bowling alley, most days were spent bustling around Sanbornton - each member of the family doing something different than the next.

Contrary to popular belief, Vivien enjoyed Sundays. Well, most of the time. As she had been the oldest of the siblings, she remembered the most from the time before their parents’ divorce. She could recall going on long drives in the family’s minivan, hogging the bench seat in the far back all to herself, and using Pac-Man to kick a bunch of ghost asses as she button-mashed her Atomic Purple Game Boy. More often than not, she spent her Sundays draining her parents’ bank accounts wherever they went and filling the rest of the back seat with stuffed animals and bags filled with souvenirs. Despite those days being long gone, Vivien still found herself enjoying Sundays in particular, just for a different reason.

As her family’s schedules became cluttered and they had less time to spend on day trips to far-off places, she had begun spending more weekends with her Aunt Hayley and her girlfriend, Charlie, sometimes staying from Friday night to Sunday evening with the woman she had always felt close with. During the summer, however, things were different. The first time Vivien had spent a full summer with Hayley and Charlie, she was ten, and the pair had signed up to work at the summer camp Chelsea and Hayley’s parents owned - Camp Wanamaker. Vivien was the youngest person there when they arrived that Sunday, as Hayley and Charlie were there for the workers-only week. Most of the people at the camp enjoyed having Vivien around despite her age, and, as the first week came to a close and bus-loads of campers began piling in on the following Monday, she couldn’t help but feel a sense of disappointment that her week of being treated like the camp’s princess was over.

Now that she was older and had spent many of her pre-teen and teenage summers at the camp as both a camper and a cabin lead, Vivien had grown to deeply appreciate Sundays for what they were: bookends. The summer seasons at Camp Wanamaker technically started on a Sunday for the workers as that was the first full day they would be there, and the season ended with the big, end-of-summer showcase on either the second or third Sunday of August. Sundays were, quite literally, the beginning and end of her summers at camp.

Maybe that was why Vivien liked summer Sundays so much.

Sundays at Camp Wanamaker hardly ever changed. More often than not, Sundays were a constant in a world fueled by chaotic variables. Unlike most days at camp when counselors would chase down the kids they were responsible for and drag them to whatever activity was next for the day, Sundays at the camp were a day to rest, lounge around the cabins with your bunkmates, and eat s'mores around the campfire. Imagine Vivien’s surprise when she showed up to the mess hall on what was supposed to be a normal Sunday to see Carrie and Royce working well together in the kitchen, talking and laughing like old friends.

Perhaps, however, we should start our story a week prior to this incident, on Sunday, the eighteenth of June.

Waking up in a room without stars on the ceiling was nothing new for Vivien O’Brian. Well, at least not during the summer. Waking up to the sound of gentle breathing was new, however. Slowly shifting her head upwards, Vivien found herself watching Royce as he slept soundly beside her. They had only done this a handful of times in their relationship - most of them accidental sleepovers on the Birch family’s living room floor - but Vivien found something oddly soothing about the gentle rise and fall of Royce’s chest as he slept peacefully. Trying not to roll her eyes at herself, Vivien let out a soft sigh; she was turning into Mick - sappy enough to fill an entire maple tree.

As much as she loved feeling like a mushy, lovesick, twenty-something-year-old, Vivien slowly detached herself from Royce’s grasp, giving the snoring blond on the other side of her boyfriend a chance to absorb Royce’s unending warmth as she rose from the bed and grabbed her glasses from the nightstand before creeping out of the room as silently as she could. Heading around the balcony toward the room she had claimed the day prior, Vivien tried not to laugh as she passed the room where a certain auburn-haired male muttered a cuss in his sleep and rolled onto his side with an incoherent, grumbling complaint. Reaching her bedroom, Vivien softly closed the door and checked her phone for the weather before pulling a swimsuit from her dresser and bringing it with her to the bathroom to change into once she was ready for the day to begin.

By the time she had made it down to the water, the sun was just barely breaching the horizon, casting an array of reds and pinks across the sky. Vivien sighed to herself as she stood at the waterline; if old wives’ tales could be trusted, red in the morning meant storms to come later in the day. Glad to have chosen to take a morning swim, Vivien ditched her towel and glasses on the sand under the pier before venturing into the chilly water. Once she was far enough out, Vivien dove into the water, happy to get the worst part over with as she resurfaced, staring up at the sky as though it could tell her what was in store for her that day.

To be fair, she had no intention of doing much apart from the norm. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner were a staple, but apart from that, she had no plans. Maybe, if she felt up to it, she would go to the archery range with Mick or go up to the counselor’s lodge to teach herself how to play her grandmother’s old violin in the vain hope that her terrible, wounded-cat-esque playing would encourage the older woman to teach her how to actually handle the old string instrument. As Vivien let the water carry her further from the shore, she took in a deep breath and relaxed - it felt nice not to have plans for once.

Time became nothing more than an illusion as Vivien floated on the water, the sun gradually warming the waves as it steadily rose overhead. After what felt like nothing more than a few minutes had passed, Vivien jolted as a hand captured her ankle. The hand released her as she began treading water, coming face to face with the blurry visage of who she presumed was none other than her boyfriend.

“Royce?” she questioned.

“Not quite,” the voice replied, a smirk noticeable in the male’s tone.

Vivien usually felt pretty confident in her ability to differentiate between voices, but for some reason, she couldn’t tell who this person was. “Are you one of the people I’m staying with?” she asked.

“No,” the man replied.

Cautiously, she questioned, “Do I know you?”

“You might if you were wearing your glasses,” he snickered. Ah, so whoever had chosen to approach her had a sense of humor - duly noted.

If he knew she had glasses, there was a chance she truly did know whoever it was, but Vivien wasn’t easily convinced. He could have easily spotted her glasses on her towel and taken that information with him. Then again, she had left her things under the pier. With a sigh, Vivien asked, “Are we close to shore?”

The water sloshed around them as the mystery man looked around, “We’re near the end of the pier.”

With a nod, Vivien gestured for the man to lead the way and followed the sound of splashes until she found sand under her feet again. After running a hand over her dripping hair and wiping her eyes of water, Vivien followed the edge of the pier until she found her hiding spot. Taking her glasses from where she’d left them, Vivien placed them on the bridge of her nose and wrapped her violet towel around her shoulders, clutching it close with wrinkly, raisin-like fingers before turning toward the only other person on the beach. Standing not far away with a crooked smile, shimmering green eyes, and drenched, golden brown hair was a man who, if the tattoo of the Spider-Man symbol on his wrist was anything to go by, was a bit older than Vivien. Though he had no shirt on, he was quick to pick one up from the sand, taking his phone from it before shaking it free of sand. To her dismay, however, nothing about the person before her rang any bells. He just looked like some random guy.

“I’m sorry,” she began slowly, sending the man an apologetic smile, “I’m not sure I recognize you.”

The man chuckled, “That’s alright, Viv. I get it. I’ve changed a lot since you last saw me.”

“I guess so,” Vivien chuckled nervously.

Instead of pressing further, the green-eyed man unlocked his cell phone and tapped on it before scrolling a few times and tapping on something. With a smile, he turned the phone around to Vivien and held it out to her, allowing her to take it as he said, “That might help.”

The picture he had chosen was an old photograph that had been taken long ago at a party at the next town’s roller rink. Vivien vaguely remembered the party, recalling the disco ball shining brightly overhead, the many falls to the wooden floor she had taken, and spending time with the birthday boy in the arcade after both of them had collided into a heap and scuffed up their knees. Despite the birthday boy being born a year before her, Vivien had grown up with him, both of them being in the same class from kindergarten to sixth grade and spending most of their evenings at the boy’s house, doing their homework together before battling each other to the death on different games his family had that Vivien’s didn’t. They were quite close, and, if Vivien remembered correctly, the boy’s birthday party was the last time she had seen him before his family’s move to Seattle.

Examining the photograph, Vivien found herself staring at a younger version of herself - metal-filled mouth and all - who sat beside a boy with dark hair that had only just begun to grow back in after his buzz cut, their matching green eyes shining as they gave each other bunny ears. As the puzzle pieces began to fall into place, Vivien looked up, finding those same green eyes shining back at her. Moving the phone up so that she could look between the two, Vivien breathed, “Noah?”

With a widening smile and a nod, he chuckled, “Hey, Vivien.”

Noah Michaels had certainly changed over the five years they had been apart. The once-geeky boy had transformed into someone who could have easily walked off of the set of some beach show. His previously buzzed hair was now long, he stood quite a bit taller, and, if Vivien had to guess, he had been working out over the years. However, that didn’t change the fact that she could vividly remember forcing him to dress up as Anna from Frozen when they were seven so that she had someone to perform with at the school talent show when her friend Ivy got the flu the day before. Regardless of how much had changed over time, Noah was still the dumbass she had grown up with.

“I thought you guys moved out to Washington,” Vivien claimed as she handed back the phone.

“We did,” he confirmed. “Seattle to Los Angeles, Los Angeles to some small town in New Jersey, and from there back to Lisbon.”

“You live in Lisbon now?”

“Mhm,” Noah hummed. “Dad left the military, and we decided to move back to the area to be closer to family.”

Vivien nodded, sparing a glance at the cabin as the front door creaked open, and a barely alert Royce made his way outside. Turning back toward Noah, she asked, “So, what brings you to camp?”

He chuckled, “I ran into some of the guys from school and they were telling me that they were going to work the summer here, so I decided I’d try it out too. What about you?”

“My grandparents own the place, so I’m here every year,” Vivien replied as Royce neared her. Stretching out an arm, Vivien pulled her boyfriend close, allowing him to kiss her cheek before turning back to Noah and saying, “Noah, this is my boyfriend, Royce. Royce, this is Noah; we grew up together.”

“Nice to meet you,” Royce yawned, holding out a hand.

Noah was quick to latch on with a smile, “Likewise, man.”

Royce eyed the tattoo with a raised eyebrow and asked, “Is that from Spider-Man?”

As emerald eyes glimmered, Noah nodded, “Yeah, it’s the Tobey Maguire one. I got it for my birthday back in October.”

“Nice,” Royce commented, stifling another yawn as he turned to Vivien and smiled. “Were you out swimming for a long time?”

“I’m not sure,” she shrugged. “It was around five when I got up.”

“It’s six-twenty,” Noah claimed, checking his phone before clicking it off again.

Vivien chuckled, “I guess I was out there longer than I thought.”

The three stood around almost awkwardly for a while before Noah grinned and said, “Well, I’ll let you two spend some time together. I’m going to get my morning swim in.”

“Since when do you swim?” Vivien questioned as Noah set his shirt and cell phone on the edge of the pier. “Last I knew, you sink like a rock in any body of water.”

Noah let out a bark of laughter, “I used to, yeah. I took swimming lessons in LA and ended up joining a swim team last year. I’m hoping to do a triathlon in a year or two.”

“Holy shit, man!” Vivien laughed. “I don’t even know what I want to do in an hour or two, let alone a year or so.”

Noah chuckled, running a hand through his hair and pushing it out of his face, “Yeah, well, I’m hoping to compete with my dad at some point, so I’m trying my hardest to prepare for the day when it comes.”

“Ah,” Vivien breathed, nodding in understanding. “Well, in that case, I suppose we better let you get to it.”

“Thanks. I hope you guys have a good rest of your morning,” Noah smiled. Turning his focus onto Royce, he added, “It was nice meeting you, Royce.”

“Yeah,” Royce nodded as the other boy headed toward the water. “It was nice meeting you, too.”

With a final wave to her friend, Vivien took Royce by the hand and guided him back toward the lodge, allowing him to sit on the wooden porch swing at the front of the building as she took advantage of the outdoor shower on the side. As Vivien recalled stories from her childhood with Noah, Royce watched the taller, older boy swim across to the other side of the lake with ease. Royce laughed distantly as Vivien made a joke about cake and water balloons as he watched Noah glide across the water. If that had been him, Royce would have had to stop time and time again to catch his breath and try not to panic as large fish brushed his legs. Back home, he had no problem in the water as sea creatures kept their distance from the crashing shoreline, but after accidentally kicking a fish in the lake the night before and feeling its slimy scales glide across his leg, the thought of it happening again made Royce’s skin crawl. How Noah was handling himself so well, Royce had no idea, but he was impressed all the same.

As Vivien finished washing the lake water smell from her hair, Royce moved so that she could sit beside him and the pair watched the sky glow in an array of hues until it was almost time for breakfast. Sitting beside Vivien as he stabbed a piece of his pancake with a fork, Royce wasn’t too surprised to see Noah approach them with a smile, asking to join them for the first meal of the day. After going through a round of introductions, most of the people at the table fell into an easy conversation with Noah, listening to him recount stories from his adventures over the years. When Royce later asked if Vivien wanted to join him in the library, he was only mildly disappointed that she had already promised Noah that she would show him around the campground. After giving her a hug and wishing her a fun time with her friend, Royce watched them leave with a small smile before heading to the library to lounge around for a while.

When it began raining after lunch, Royce was sure she would return to the lodge to lounge in the living room and play cards with him and Bentley. However, he didn’t see her again until dinner when she and Noah burst into the mess hall soaking wet and laughing about something nobody else had any clue about. Happy to see his girlfriend enjoying herself with an old friend, Royce simply sat and listened as the two rambled on about all that they had done throughout the day. After the meal was over, the two finally split off and Vivien chattered on about the fun she’d had with the older boy for a while before eventually settling in on the living room with Riven, Royce, and Bentley. The quartet played a rather intense game of Monopoly that went well past lights-out, but nobody else in the lodge said a word as they were far more interested in who would win the game than they were about what hour it was.

Riven got sick of having to pay Bentley every turn and “accidentally” flipped the board as he exasperatedly laid back on the floor, coincidentally kicking the coffee table instead of Bentley’s thigh. With the game over, the cabin mates went their separate ways, heading to their bedrooms to change after wishing each other a good night. Once he was changed into his pajamas, Bentley headed for Royce’s room, sitting on the bed while Royce picked out an outfit for the next day. Royce listened with a smile as Bentley rambled about his day, having spent most of it attempting to mold a lump of wet clay into a vase in the pottery barn. Then, a simple statement caught his attention.

“Then, when Viv and her friend came in, I stopped for a while and we hung out,” Bentley claimed, tossing a hacky sack he’d gotten from the activity shed into the air and catching it in the other hand.

“Oh yeah?” Royce wondered as he turned toward Bentley with a smile. “What did you guys do?”

Bentley shrugged, “Noah painted for a while with Viv and then he helped me cut the clay I wanted to work with since I had taken too much and it kept falling in on itself.”

“That’s cool,” Royce commented as he moved to sit on the edge of his bed. “What do you think of him?”

“He’s pretty cool, I guess,” Bentley offered. “I’ve only known him for a day, though.”

“Yeah,” Royce nodded. “Kind of hard to have an opinion after just a day.”

Bentley hummed, “But if Viv trusts him, I do too.”

Royce adjusted his pillow as he nodded. Bentley was right; although it had only been a day, Noah had gained everyone’s trust because Vivien knew him. It was a quick adjustment, but an easy one. Though he hadn’t spent much time with Noah, he seemed to be a good companion for Vivien outside of the people she now shared a cabin with. Royce smiled to himself as he relaxed into his mattress, glad that his girlfriend had another friend on the grounds of her family’s camp for the summer. Seeing her so excited to have reignited an old friendship made Royce happy all the same. Taking in a deep breath, Royce tried to think of ways he could try to get to know Noah better, wanting to put in an effort to become friends with Vivien’s old schoolmate.

Perhaps things were easier said than done.

Mondays were the one day every week Miles always dreaded. It wasn’t just the typical, “Monday means back to work or school, therefore, it sucks,” type of deal either, it was something much more than that. Regardless of whether or not he had to do anything, something always seemed to occur on a Monday to make him want to do nothing more than slam his head against a wall. It could be something as simple as his alarm not going off and it would still send his entire day down the drain. Sure, there were a few odd days where nothing would happen and he would simply be on edge all day, waiting for the inevitable, only for it to never come, but those were few and far between.

Today just so happened to be one of those rare days.

He had gotten up just before the camp’s speaker system began to play Highway to Hell, pushing himself from the blankets just as the song cut off halfway through and Vivien’s grandmother came over the speaker with an apology before starting a new song; he had arrived at the mess hall just in time for a new pot of coffee to be made available, earning himself a fresh cup of hot coffee that somehow managed to wake him up more than two cups of espresso could; his assignment for the day was to work in the fitness center, managing everything from the desk unless asked otherwise; and, to top it all off, he had free time to work on the song he and Vivien had been working on in their free time. As far as Mondays go, it was clear to Miles that this one far surpassed any other. However, that just set him even further on edge than he already was.

Miles wouldn’t say he was necessarily surprised when Vivien’s friend, Noah, crossed the threshold into the fitness center, but he was a bit taken aback to see Vivien with him. As far as he knew, the closest Vivien had come to working out was her time on the ice at her skating rink and her ballet classes, but as she followed the taller male to a leg press machine and instructed him on how much weight to add, Miles smirked to himself. He knew Vivien had legs of steel - she had to in order to be such an impressive skater - but it wasn’t until she easily out-pressed her friend, that he realized just how strong she was.

By the time it was nearly noon, Miles had watched the pair go through most of the machines, competing to see who was stronger or faster. From just over his notebook filled with musical notes, Miles watched the two argue about who ran further than who on the treadmill over the duration of a single song. With a shake of his head, Miles went back to working on his music until a hand grabbed the top of the book and he was forced to look up at Vivien’s cockily grinning face.

“Can I help you?” he drawled.

“I need an impartial person to keep track of my distance because someone-” Vivien glared over her shoulder at her friend, “-keeps restarting my machine when the song is over.”

Glancing at the green-eyed boy who didn’t bother wiping the mischievous smirk from his face before turning his gaze back toward Vivien, Miles sighed, “Do I have to?”

Before Vivien could answer with a sassy remark - because, yes, he did have to do his job - Noah spoke up, “You’re the one who’s currently in charge of the gym, aren’t you?”

Miles presumed that the boy’s remark was probably intended to be a humorous quip, but he found nothing overly funny about the teenager’s deadpan delivery. If anything, the boy sounded serious about the question. The only reason he gave the boy the faintest breath of a chuckle was because of the short snicker Vivien gave and, even then, it was obvious his reaction was forced. After giving Noah a quick once-over, Miles’ gaze flickered to Vivien and he placed his notebook on the table before rising from his seat. “I’ll be there in a minute,” Miles claimed with a nod.

Vivien gave Miles a quick smile before turning to Noah and saying, “Why don’t you go ahead? I have to tell Miles about something his girlfriend said this morning while he was too busy snoring into his coffee cup.”

Noah let out a short snort and nodded, “Yeah, alright.”

As Noah walked off, Vivien stayed glued to her spot before the desk and, once he was far enough away, she turned to Miles again before softly saying, “Noah isn’t the best at jokes.”

“I noticed,” Miles muttered, glancing at the boy.

“He’s trying,” Vivien offered. “He’s been homeschooled for a long time and I think it kept him from making a ton of friends. I think he’s just trying to navigate everyone’s sense of humor. It may not sound like it sometimes, but I promise, he is trying.”

From the moment he had heard about Noah, Miles was more than a bit apprehensive to accept him. While he wanted nothing more than for Vivien to be excited to spend time with her old friend, the way Royce’s eyes dulled ever-so-slightly while Vivien’s glowed as she sang the boy’s praises at the breakfast table, made an uncomfortable pit begin to grow in Miles’ gut. Despite his instincts screaming at him to tell Vivien he felt off about the boy she was so delighted to spend time with, Miles could see just how eager she was for him to accept her friend. So, as he swallowed his commentary for the time being, Miles took in a deep breath and reached across the table to nudge Vivien’s shoulder.

“Relax, kiddo,” he began as he rounded the desk. “I get it. I’ll pass the message along to the others to make things easier for him.”

“Really?” Vivien questioned. “You would do that?”

“Of course,” Miles agreed. “Now, let’s get this race over with before lunch.”

Vivien beamed, sliding an arm around Miles as they walked toward the waiting treadmill, “Merci, Miles.”

Bringing an arm around the brunette’s shoulders, Miles grinned, “Toujours, Vivien.”

Once the lunch announcement echoed throughout the camp and the fitness center was empty, Miles gathered his notebook and drink and left for the mess hall where almost everyone from their cabin was already sitting around their typical lunch table. As Miles joined the line of people waiting to fill their plates with food, he glanced over at the table where Royce sat between Vivien and Bentley, the three of them laughing and talking as they always did. The trio looked up as a familiar head of golden brown hair approached, but instead of continuing on to sit with the other workers he was bunking with in one of the cabins on the far side of the camp, Noah took up a spot across from Vivien.

Taking in a breath and forcing himself to smile as the kids noticed him looking over at them, Miles jumped as a hand landed on his shoulder. Chuckling, Vivien’s grandfather removed his hand as Miles turned to face him, “Just me, son.”

“Sorry, sir,” Miles apologized as he placed a slice of pizza on his plate.

“Don’t be,” the man brushed off. “And, Miles, you don’t have to call me sir.”

Peering at the man from the corner of his eyes, Miles chuckled nervously, “I’m not sure what else I would call you.”

“Most of the counselors call me Chief,” George suggested, glancing around cautiously to see if his wife was watching before adding another two slices of pizza to his plate. Turning back toward Miles with a bright smile, the man placed a hand on Miles’ arm and continued his previous train of thought, “Vivien and some of her friends, however, call me Grandpa George. The choice is yours, son.”

Smiling at the man’s gesture, Miles nodded, “Alright, then. Thank you.”

“Of course,” George said, patting Miles on the arm before stepping around him. “Now, would you care to tell me what’s going on in that head of yours?”

“What do you mean?” Miles wondered.

George’s eyes shone knowingly as he met Miles curious stare. “You’re worried about something. I want to offer help if I can.”

With a heavy sigh, Miles glanced at his plate before looking over to where Bentley and Royce were listening to Vivien and Noah blather on about their day, “I’m not sure it can be helped, really.”

“Ah,” George breathed, following Miles’ line of sight to where his granddaughter and her friends sat. “You’re worried about Noah coming between Vivien and your brothers.”

Whirling around to find George once again, Miles asked, “How did you figure that out?”

“I’m old,” George shrugged. “I see things clearer now than I did when I was your age.”

“Tell that to your eye doctors,” Dawn commented as she joined them. Turning her gentle gaze onto Miles, she smiled, “Truthfully, Miles, you don’t have much to worry about when it comes to Vivien.”

“It’s not necessarily her that I’m worried about,” Miles admitted.

“Noah, then?” Dawn presumed. When Miles relented a nod of confirmation, she shook her head. “Long ago, when they were still just children, we all used to say that the two of them would be a cute couple. Nowadays, however, I couldn’t say the same.”

George nodded, “They’re good friends, sure, but there is nothing romantic between them on either side.”

“How can you be so sure?” Miles asked. “All day yesterday and today, he’s been attached at her hip.”

Dawn found George’s eyes and sighed, “That might be my fault. I asked Vivien to show him around this week and help him feel more comfortable. He’s shadowing her until Sunday. After that, I believe we’re setting him up as a lifeguard at the pool.”

“So it’s just for this week?” Miles asked.

Dawn hummed as George nodded, “It should be, yes.”

Reassured that things would return to normal by the end of the week, Miles smiled and thanked the older couple before making his way to the table where everyone was listening to Bentley talk about how someone got slammed in the face by a basketball earlier in the day. Once lunch was over and everyone was allowed some free time, Miles accompanied his brothers to the art barn, where Bentley proudly showed them how he managed to make a lopsided bowl that he insisted Miles could put by the door to hold his keys. After spending a few hours messily attempting to make something out of a lump of clay, the dinner bell rang and they cleaned things up before leaving to see what was being served in the mess hall.

Later that night, when Miles was sitting on the joined section of the pier with Royce and Bentley to watch the sunset, he took in a deep breath and turned to Royce and asked, “So, what do you think about this Noah guy?”

“He’s alright,” Royce shrugged, swinging his legs back and forth in the water. “He’s not overly talkative with anyone other than Vivien, but he’s getting better at talking with me and Benny now that we’ve hung out a little.”

Miles hummed, “Viv’s grandparents said that he’s shadowing her for the week to see if that helps him get more comfortable with people.”

“They picked a good person to help him,” Bentley said. “She’s one of the most outgoing people here.”

With a chuckle, Miles nodded, “Yeah. I guess they were really close as kids, so I guess that helps.”

“Viv said that, when they were little, a lot of people thought they would be together at some point, but that she thought it was weird,” Bentley claimed.

Ah, so Bentley had been worried about it too. Miles fought to keep himself from grinning at just how secretly protective his baby brother had gotten to be. “Her grandma told me something similar,” Miles agreed.

Dodging the obvious question of his thoughts on the matter, Royce turned to his brothers and smiled as he said, “They were talking about doing archery with us tomorrow. Maybe we can try to help him open up more while we’re hanging out.”

Miles shared a subtle look of disappointment with Bentley before turning to Royce with a smile, “That sounds like a great idea, RJ.”

“Yeah, because there’s nothing like getting someone to talk when you’ve got a weapon in your hands,” Bentley sarcastically claimed, earning himself an elbow from Miles.

Despite his best efforts, Bentley arose early that Tuesday morning, finding himself alone with a note on the table beside his bed that told him Royce and Vivien were going to spend the morning sitting on the porch and reading together. Unlike Royce and Vivien, he never liked rising early or using the morning to do anything productive. If he could have done so, he would have rolled over and slept in until at least eight or nine. However, he knew the wake-up call would come over the camp’s speakers sooner rather than later, so he pried himself from the comfort of his blankets and drowsily pushed himself to venture down the stairs.

True to the note they had left, Bentley found Vivien and Royce sitting on the porch swing together, a book open between them as Royce read aloud. As Bentley stepped onto the porch and closed the door behind him, Royce paused his reading, smiling at his younger brother as he said, “Morning, Ben.”

“Mornin’,” Bentley mumbled, taking what space was left on the swing as Vivien slid closer to Royce.

As Bentley’s head fell onto Vivien’s shoulder and Vivien’s, in turn, dropped onto Royce’s, Royce chuckled and began reading once more, his soft, dulcet voice dragging Bentley closer to the brink of sleep. It wasn’t until Wouldn’t It Be Nice by The Beach Boys began playing over the speakers that Bentley realized he had fallen asleep. After attempting to pull Bentley away from his new sleeping spot, Vivien headed inside the lodge and dragged Riven outside, getting her skating partner to pull Bentley from the swing. Riven went a step further, however, picking the half-asleep boy up and settling him on his back before making the journey to the mess hall a while behind the others.

Bentley’s nonsensical mumblings about wanting to go back to bed did nothing to steer Riven back toward the lodge, instead making the older boy chuckle, “If I had the choice, I’d be right there with you, half-pint, but Vivien dragged us into this, so we’re going to have to see it through.”

Scoffing as he rested his chin on Riven’s shoulder, Bentley huffed, “It’s not like it matters. She’s gonna spend all day with Noah anyway.”

“You don’t like Noah?” Riven questioned quietly.

Bentley’s noncommittal noise did little to answer, but he soon decided, “He’s nice and all, but Miley and I think Royce is a little bothered by him having Viv all to himself.”

Riven hummed in understanding, giving the young blond a nod as he thought things over. Ever the observant one, Riven had quickly found Royce sitting a bit quieter at meal times when Noah was around. It didn’t take a genius to see that, whether Royce knew it or not, he was at least a little bothered by the boy’s presence. Choosing to steer away from the topic until he had looked more into it, Riven asked, “Is Miley what you call Miles?”

With a nod, Bentley muttered, “Me, Royce, and sometimes Viv.”

Letting out a confused chuckle, Riven wondered, “Why sometimes?”

“He gave her permission to call him that when she stayed with us over vacation,” Bentley claimed, “but she says she only calls him that when there’s an emergency or if she needs help.”

“Has she ever called him Miley?”

“Twice that I know of.”

“What happened?” Riven asked.

“The first time she called him that, Miles wasn’t too thrilled,” Bentley snickered. “She was doing it to tease him and he explained that was a nickname that only Royce and I could use.”

“But now she can use it?”

“Yeah,” Bentley nodded, “but she’s only done it once since then that I know about.”

Riven nodded, attempting to recall whether or not he had been there when Vivien had called Miles by his nickname. When he couldn’t, he softly asked, “Was that in your world or ours?”

Just as Bentley opened his mouth to answer, the realization of what Riven had said hit him like a brick wall. Instead, his mouth slowly closed and, as Riven peered back at him, he forced a small smile and asked, “You mean our state or yours?”

“No,” Riven chuckled. “I know what I said.”

“What do you mean?” Bentley chuckled. “We don’t live in another world.”

Smiling knowingly as he stepped over a tree root that stuck up out of the ground, Riven smiled and shook his head, “Has anyone ever told you that you’re a terrible liar?”

“Yeah,” Bentley sagged. Glancing at Riven’s hazel eyes, he asked, “When did you figure it out?”

“A while ago,” Riven shrugged. “Don’t worry, though; I never told Vivien or Mick about it. I haven’t told anyone about it, actually.”

“I wasn’t overly worried about that, actually,” Bentley smiled.

Riven smirked, “They already know, don’t they?”

“They do,” Bentley confirmed. “But if you want to surprise them with the fact that you know, I won’t say anything to them.”

With a chuckle, Riven nodded, “I could have some fun with that.”

A brief round of laughter filled the air between the boys, before Bentley wondered, “So, if you don’t mind me asking, how did you figure it out?”

Sighing, Riven began, “I’d had an inkling that something wasn’t quite right when Pip seemed hesitant to show me pictures of her boyfriend. At first, I thought that maybe he was a criminal of some sort as Vivien had sort of dodged ever having a ‘teenage rebellion’ phase, but when I was eventually shown a picture of this kid who looked like he couldn’t hurt a fly, I was more than a bit suspicious.”

“Understandable,” Bentley nodded. “Did you look him up or something?”

“I tried to, with no results,” Riven confirmed. “Deciding that I would be getting nowhere fast if I kept pressing on like that, I let it go.”

“So, what happened?” the blond pressed. “How did you figure it out?”

“It was an accident, really,” Riven explained with a short laugh. “I bought a set of old beach movies from this shop my dad frequents with the idea to see if there was any way I could use some lines from them at the beginning of our song recordings.”

“Instead, you found us.”

The auburn-haired male nodded, “Right on the title screen when I put the DVD into the player.”

Bentley snorted, it seemed as though Riven and Vivien were more alike than he had previously thought. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

With a shrug, Riven admitted, “I figured you guys would say something when you felt ready to.”

“Viv wanted to,” Bentley claimed as Riven set him back on his feet, “but everyone else felt it was a good idea to keep it to ourselves until we figured out how to do it without freaking you out like we did Vivien.”

Chuckling Riven smirked as he asked, “I take it she didn’t take it too well?”

“She was pretty much shell-shocked at the time,” Bentley stated, “but it got better after she sat through the show and asked us about a million questions.”

“Typical,” Riven chortled.

As they made their way toward the front door of the mess hall, Bentley snatched Riven’s wrist and asked, “You’re not going to tell anybody, right?”

“Are you?” Bentley quickly shook his head, so, in response, Riven shook his. “Then, no. It’s our secret, half-pint.”

Glad to be able to feel somewhat closer to the older skater, Bentley made sure Riven sat beside him at the breakfast table, the blond eager to get to know him as something more than Vivien’s friend from practice. When Noah joined the table, Riven easily picked up on Bentley’s amiable unease, followed closely by how Royce’s energetic chatter about some book series he’d been enjoying in the library seemed to take a backseat to Vivien’s childhood friend’s tentative ramblings about swimming.

Although Riven could tell Vivien wasn’t nearly as enthralled by the sandy brunet’s talk of a triathlon as she was in the book her boyfriend was enjoying, it didn’t appear as though Royce could see the minute way Vivien’s fingers drummed on the table or how her attention seemed to flicker like a dying flashlight. When Royce chimed in with something to add to the conversation, Vivien’s incessant tapping stilled and her focus was solely on the curly-haired boy to her right - something Riven was sure went unnoticed by most of the people at the table. Trying not to make his observations known, Riven simply continued eating, allowing the others at the table to carry on with their morning conversations as he sat in near-perfect silence.

As they all began to clear the tables and prepared to head out to their stations for the first half of the day, Riven followed Bentley to the trash with a pile he had gathered. While they worked on draining the excess maple syrup from a few plates, Riven locked gazes with the blond and offered, “If you need my help talking to Royce about this, let me know.”

Bentley glanced over Riven’s shoulder, presumably at his brother, before finding Riven’s eyes once again. “Are you sure?”

Riven nodded, “I can try to get something out of him tomorrow when we’re both holed up in the health center.”

“Thank you,” Bentley breathed.

Smiling at the younger blond, Riven said, “Anytime.”

According to the schedule, Riven’s first Wednesday at Camp Wanamaker would be spent in the most boring building on the grounds - the health center. Hardly anyone ever ended up in the health center during the training week. At the most, maybe three or four people would come in asking for something to help their headaches or period cramps. Overall, it was a fairly boring spot until the campers arrived.

Children always brought chaos to camp. Splinters, twisted ankles, and the occasional tumble from the rock wall or smack to the face from a volleyball were fairly common when the children arrived. Without them wreaking all sorts of havoc on the grounds, the health center was quiet. The tedious chores of sweeping floors and taking inventory were taken care of fairly quickly in the morning and again at night, but once the typical tasks were done, there was nothing else to do. As Riven stared across the room to where Royce was occupying his type with a book he’d borrowed from the library, he let out a sigh.

Royce peered over the top of his book, finding Riven’s head tipped back as the older boy stared up at the ceiling. “Are you okay?” he asked.

“I’m bored as hell,” Riven groaned. “This is, by far, the worst place to be holed up all day.”

“Tell me about it,” Royce huffed. “Today is my birthday.”

“How come you didn’t ask for the day off to go hang out somewhere?” Riven asked. “Chief would’ve let you go.”

“He also would have had to let out my brothers, Viv, and anyone else who wanted to spend the day with me,” Royce deadpanned. With a shrug, he said, “It’s not worth it anyway.”

“It’s your birthday,” Riven stated. “You should be allowed to do fun shit instead of being holed up in here with me all day.”

“It doesn’t bother me as much as I thought it would,” Royce shrugged. Choosing to set aside his book in favor of distracting his girlfriend’s closest friend, Royce stood and crossed the room to sit on Riven’s desk. “What would you rather be doing?”

“Literally anything else,” Riven chuckled humorlessly. “I would even take archery at this point and we both know how that would go.”

Royce fought the smirk that wanted so desperately to appear. The day before, he had spent time at the archery station with the majority of his cabin mates and had seen Riven both try and fail to land a single arrow on the target. Clearing his throat and smiling at the auburn-haired boy, he offered, “Do you want me to run to the cabin and grab a deck of cards? You could beat my ass in poker for a few hours.”

Taking in a deep, contemplative breath, Riven nodded, “That could be fun.” Royce smiled and pushed himself away from the desk, but before he could get far, Riven suggested, “Why don’t you check in your desk first? I think Erica and I spent a few hours building a house of cards last year and we might have left the deck in one of these desks.”

Royce nodded, rounding his desk and pulling open each drawer, searching them before pulling a tattered cardboard box out of the second to last. Shaking the box victoriously, Royce beamed, “Found them.”

“Alright,” Riven smirked. As Royce grabbed his chair and wheeled it over to Riven’s desk, Riven cleared a spot on his desk. “So,” he began, “do you want to play blackjack or regular poker?”

Royce shrugged, “I’ve never really played either one, so I don’t know. Dealer’s choice, I guess?”

“I’ll teach you,” Riven said with a smile. “Blackjack would probably be a bit easier to start with since it’s just math.”

“Really?”

“Mhm,” Riven nodded, taking a piece of paper and a pen from his desk and writing out the card numbers on the paper. “You just have to get as close as you can to twenty-one points without going over.”

“That sounds easy enough,” Royce smiled.

Riven hummed, “Everything is its normal number apart from the aces and the royalty cards. Royal cards are worth ten and aces can be either one or eleven points.”

Royce looked over the paper as Riven turned it toward him. “The suits don’t matter?” he asked.

“Nope,” Riven declared with a smile as he pulled the cards from the box and began shuffling them. “Just try to get close to twenty-one. If you want another card to add to your deck, you say ‘hit,’ and when you think you’re close enough and don’t want to risk going over, you say ‘freeze.’ At least, that’s what my dad taught me.”

Royce nodded, watching Riven shuffle the cards a few times before asking, “Are you close with your dad?”

“Pretty close, yeah,” Riven claimed. “After my mom died a while back, he and I grew a lot closer. We’re all we have left, so we try to keep our relationship in good standing. Bentley said your mom died a while ago, too, right? Were you close with your dad after that?”

Royce took in a deep breath and sighed, “No. When our mom died, our dad went sort of off the rails - drinking and all that.”

“Is that why your brother didn’t take Chief up on his offer of a drink last night?” Riven asked as he placed two cards in front of Royce - one facing up and the other down.

“He offered Miles alcohol?”

Riven nodded, “He usually offers the older counselors a drink at some point just to sit around and get to know them better. It’s never anything hard - maybe a beer or something - but he takes one cabin at a time and offers them either something lightly alcoholic or a soda. I heard him talking with your brother when I was helping Bentley clean tables.”

“Do you know what he chose?” Royce questioned as he looked over his cards.

“A soda,” Riven stated. “Hit or freeze?”

Chuckling at the measly nine he had gotten, Royce said, “Hit, please.”

As Riven placed another card face-up on Royce’s side of the table, he continued with their previous conversation, “I think Chief gave him a can of cream soda and brought him back to the office to talk with him more.”

“I was wondering why he came back late,” Royce admitted as he recounted his cards. “I’m going to freeze there.”

“Good job,” Riven commented with a smile, taking a moment to look over his cards before adding another to his pile. “I’m frozen too. Let’s flip them and see who’s closer.”

As they both flipped their cards over, Riven smiled as Royce came out with a nineteen and his own hand managed to be just a point shy. “I won?” Royce wondered softly.

“You did,” Riven agreed, placing his hand of cards on top of Royce’s and pushing them to the side. As he flipped another set of cards onto the desk, Riven asked, “Do you think you’ll ever drink?”

Ryce was quick to shake his head, “I doubt it. After watching our dad spiral into drunken stupors more than once, I don’t think I want to touch the stuff.”

“Wise decision,” Riven applauded. “Vivien shares a similar opinion, but she’s had wine before.”

“She’s not old enough to drink,” Royce slowly mused, his head tilting to the side.

Riven smiled as he recalled, “It was an accident. We were screwing around in the winery and took some of the sample cups thinking they were punch for an upcoming wedding reception.”

Royce grinned, “What happened?”

“We got absolutely trashed,” Riven snickered. “Her mom was pissed while our dads were too busy laughing their asses off at us. I guess we both had guzzled about four cups of chocolate raspberry wine before they found us.”

“Holy shit!” Royce squawked.

“Oh yeah,” Riven laughed. “To make things even worse, Vivien started cussing at her parents - told her mom to fuck off and flipped her dad off.”

“How old was she?”

Riven glanced at his cards as he thought about his answer before replying, “I was almost ten, so she was maybe six or seven.”

“Wow,” Royce breathed. “I can’t imagine her doing anything like that, especially not so young.”

“Like I said, it wasn’t intentional,” Riven shrugged. “After that, she’s sworn off alcohol, but she does taste-test the season wines her family puts out every once in a while. It’s just not enough to get drunk on.”

Royce nodded and checked his cards, smiling as the image of a young, chaotic Vivien running around her family’s winery, drunk off her ass and flipping people off, filled his thoughts. “I guess she and I have more in common than I thought."

Spotting the opportunity to get his point across, Riven glanced over at Royce and nodded, “Add that to the list of reasons you shouldn’t be worried about her friendship with Noah.”

Freezing, Roycer slowly looked up, finding Riven’s calm stare aimed back at him. “What do you mean?” he asked.

Placing the deck of cards aside, Riven folded his hands together on the desk and leveled Royce with a small grin, “I can tell you’re bothered by how close they’ve been, whether you see it or not. Granted, you two have time together in the mornings and after dinner, but it bothers you, at least a little, that he’s been attached to her hip for the last few days.”

“I trust Vivien,” Royce stated firmly.

“And I’m glad you do,” Riven said placatingly, “but I’m not questioning how much you trust her. I just want you to know that it’s understandable if you’re uncomfortable with another boy, around your age, hanging around your girl all day, every day.”

“She and Noah are just friends and I know it wouldn’t go further than that,” Royce said, but to Riven, it almost sounded as though he was trying to convince himself of that. “Besides, he’s supposed to be shadowing her until the campers begin to show up. Even if the situation did bother me, which it doesn’t, I wouldn't be able to do anything about it.”

“You could, actually,” Riven claimed. When Royce’s curiosity became evident, Riven smiled and said, “I’ve known Noah as long as Vivien has; if it makes things better for you, I can always swap out with her.”

Before answering, Royce actually appeared to think on the idea, his eyes flitting around before finally stilling. With a shake of his head, Royce replied, “It’s only three more days.”

“Four,” Riven corrected. “The campers don’t come until Monday, so you have until Sunday night.”

“Still,” Royce sighed, “I can handle that. After that, things will go back to normal, and I can pretend this never happened.”

Riven examined Royce’s face and, despite having the intense urge to shake the boy until he relented, he couldn’t find any reason to. Royce’s steadfast expression gave Riven little wiggle room, but as he knew he had, at the very least, offered Royce an out if he wanted it, Riven chose to wave his white flag of defeat and picked up the deck of cards once more. “Alright,” he said, “but just remember what I said. I’m here if you need me.”

“Thanks,” Royce breathed, allowing a small smile to tug at his lips. “I appreciate it.”

“Of course,” Riven nodded. Adjusting his grip on the cards, Riven smiled as he asked, “Now, hit or freeze?”

It wasn’t often that Royce got the chance to spend one-on-one time with Mick. Most days, they were too busy with their individual interests and schedules, but that Thursday was something different. When Royce entered the downstairs section of the Lakeside Lodge, he found he wasn’t the only one awake. Mick had pushed the coffee table out of the way before putting her headphones on and beginning her usual morning exercises, but when she took notice of the young brunet, she smiled and invited him to join her. Shrugging, Royce set his book and cell phone aside before joining the woman.

They talked for a while about the different stretches Mick did every day, but there wasn’t much to their conversation apart from that. Breakfast came and went as uneventfully as it always did, but as Royce joined back up with Mick on the steps outside the mess hall, he found himself feeling almost excited to spend the day lifeguarding with her. Jade and Erica joined them at the pool after a while, having taken the time to go back to their cabin to put on clothing that would be more forgiving in the heat of the snack stand. While Erica and Jade took their spots in the little shack near the pool entrance, Mick and Royce perched themselves on one of the lifeguard chairs. There wasn’t much to do as most everyone had to work in other positions, but as the day grew hotter and the heat became more noticeable, a select few workers entered the pool to cool off from the heat of the sun.

Royce was grateful for the overhead umbrella they had over the chair to keep themselves cool from the heat, but as Mick climbed down from their perch and grabbed a pair of popsicles to snack on, he realized just how hot it had gotten. “Thanks again, Mick,” he said before sucking down some of the extra juice from the plastic tube.

“Of course,” she replied with a smile. “I wasn’t sure if it was you or Viv who preferred the blue raspberry ones.”

“We both like it,” Royce shrugged. “She just prefers watermelon.”

As Mick nodded, she sighed thoughtfully, “I think I’m the only one in the entire cabin who likes the banana-flavored ones.”

“Is that what the yellow ones taste like?” Royce questioned. When Mick nodded, Royce laughed, “I thought they were lemon!”

Mick made a face of disgust and shook her head, “Ew, no. Lemon-scented anything makes me think of cleaning supplies; that’s why I picked the box with the banana-flavored pops.”

“Huh,” Royce chuckled. “Learn something new every day, I guess.”

“I guess so.��

The pair sat in near-silence as the few people in the pool took turns blasting each other with sprays of water. Taking another bite of his popsicle, Royce allowed his thoughts to fill his head as he stared off into space. After the conversation he’d had with Riven the day before, he had continuously found himself deep in thought on the topic of Noah and his relationship with Vivien. While Royce was confident in his trust of Vivien and knew he had nothing to worry about on her end of things, he couldn’t exactly say that he had the same trust in Noah. He hadn’t known the other boy for a full week yet and his apprehensiveness with the boy’s presence was becoming more and more obvious.

Slowly taking in a deep breath, Royce pulled his attention back to the present and looked over at the people swimming about in the crystalline water before him before turning his gaze toward Mick. As her neighbor, Mick was most likely to have known Vivien the longest. Maybe she would have some sort of insider knowledge on the situation. As he tried to think of a way to broach the situation, Royce heard a laugh that drew his attention away from the older girl. Finding Vivien laughing as she walked with Noah toward their station at the tennis court, Royce allowed himself to smile. Maybe he had no reason to worry about any of it. Maybe he was just overreacting. They were old friends, after all.

Mick seemed to have noticed the trio as she let out a soft laugh, “It’s so nice to see them together again.”

Shifting his gaze from the pair to the brunette beside him, Royce asked, “Who? Viv and Noah?”

Mick nodded as she turned to Royce with a smile, “Yeah. They were so close when they were little.”

“Mick said they went to school together,” Royce acknowledged.

“They did everything together,” Mick agreed. “No matter what they were doing or where they were, they were always together.”

Royce hummed, “So they were like me and Bentley when we first came to town?”

“In a way,” Mick shrugged. “You could never find one of them without the other.”

With a nod, Royce glanced back toward the pair, just barely catching Vivien throwing a tennis ball across the court at Noah, hitting him in the shoulder with a cackle of victory. He couldn’t quite make out what was being said between the pair, it was obvious that they were getting along as they always had. Noah picked up the ball and hurled it back across the net between himself and Vivien, cursing as Vivien dodged his throw and instead chucked another ball at him. Smirking at his girlfriend’s determination to pelt her friend with fuzzy, green balls, Royce chuckled, “They seem to be getting along well.”

“I’m not surprised,” Mick smiled. “The two of them were so close before that I bet it feels like no time has passed to them.” With a short, thoughtful chuckle as Vivien found a bag of tennis balls to assault her friend with, Mick claimed, “You know, a lot of people thought the two of them would end up together someday.”

The news had Royce’s attention at once. The thought brought an uncomfortable sinking feeling to his stomach and he was sure that, if he hadn’t been sitting, he would have fallen to the cement surrounding the pool. Nobody had told him this. How many people knew? Did Vivien and Noah feel that way as well at some point? As he watched the two on the tennis court laugh and screech insults at each other, Royce could see his girlfriend’s beaming smile and a tense strain of impending doom spread through his chest as Noah ducked under Vivien’s attack and brought his arms around her knees, hauling her over his shoulder while she squeaked at the sudden height difference.

“Really?” Royce wondered softly as he watched Vivien drop the balls she had collected in favor of thumping a fist against Noah’s back, begging to be let down.

Mick hummed, “Back then, I think everyone thought they would be a cute couple, but I can’t see it now.”

Allowing his gaze to fall on the brunette beside him, Royce asked, “You can’t.”

“I doubt anyone can,” she claimed as she turned toward him. “After all the time they’ve spent apart, they’re just getting accustomed to being around each other again. I think them spending so much time together now is just giving them a chance to get to know each other all over again.”

Royce nodded slowly, “Things have changed a lot since they last saw each other.”

“They have, yeah.” Mick glanced back at the pair as Vivien whacked Noah on the shoulder with her tennis racket. With a snort, she said, “One thing remains a constant, though.” When Royce’s eyebrow raised in a silent question, Mick said, “Vivien has no interest in him as anything more than her friend.”

“How can you tell?” he asked.

“Well, for one, it’s obvious how much she adores you,” Mick stated with a smile. “I’ve never seen her as happy as I have since she’s been with you. Two…” Mick shook her head, “I don’t think she’s ever seen him as anything more than a friend. The two used to beat each other up and harass each other on a daily basis, which, by the look of things, I don’t think has changed.”

“She’s like that with me sometimes,” Royce admitted.

“It’s different,” Mick stated. “With you, she’s gentle and, when she does shove you around, it’s playful and soft. With Noah, it’s like an actual fight; they know each other’s limits and dance around them with ease. To him, she’s one of the guys and he knows she can hold her own. To her, he’s another Riven - a sibling-like figure she can push around without worrying about getting in trouble for it.”

Once Royce felt as though he had absorbed the concept, he softly asked, “Is that why you think they wouldn’t make a good couple anymore?”

“That’s one of many reasons,” Mick chuckled with a nod, “but yeah, that’s the jist of it.”

Royce hummed and brought his melting popsicle to his lips before tipping it up and draining some of the juice from it. He was grateful it had been Mick that explained it to him. Most of the time, she made things make sense more than anyone else could. She had a way of explaining things that could make even the most tense person relax. He took in a deep breath and looked over the swimmers making laps in the pool before glancing over at Vivien and her friend. Royce smiled as he watched the two begin an easy-going match, sending the ball across the net - or attempting to, at the very least. Maybe Mick was right - he had nothing to worry about.

Friday, as it so happened, was campfire day at Camp Wanamaker and, as most of the campers were, Butchy was busy finding logs to burn. Though the camp had a storage area on the side of the main office filled with logs to burn, Vivien’s grandparents had given everyone the task of finding some wood to burn on their own. Some had ventured toward the lake in search of driftwood or fallen logs on the tree line, but Butchy had taken it upon himself to search the area around the amphitheatre as hardly anyone had headed there. With a collection of sticks and kindling, Butchy took in a deep breath and headed toward the fire pit that had yet to be started. Just as he set his pile down beside the circle of rocks, Royce came out of the tree line on the other side, pushing his way past some shrubbery with a grin and dropping off some wood to burn.

“Hey, gattino,” Butchy greeted, waving the younger boy toward him. “There are some good size logs where I was looking. Do you want to help me get some?”

“Sure,” Royce smiled.

Butchy smiled in return, bringing an arm around Royce as they headed back toward the trees. The pair talked as they walked through the woods, discussing everything from what they’d had for breakfast to some movie Royce was letting Vivien drag him to when they got the chance to leave camp for a few hours. As he loaded Royce’s arms with firewood, Butchy chuckled, “I don’t know what happened between you and Vivien, but I’m glad you two resolved whatever it was.”

“What do you mean?” Royce questioned as he followed Butchy to where a fallen tree blanketed the ground.

Butchy turned back to Royce and shrugged, “It just seemed as though the two of you were, I don’t know… a bit off the past few days. I just figured you two had sorted things out and that’s why it feels like you both are back to your normal selves.”

“We weren’t fighting or anything,” Royce stated. As Butchy laid a few small branches on the ever-growing pile, he said, “I just needed time to process her friendship with Noah, I guess. They were really close as kids and were spending a lot of time together the last few days, but I talked it over with a few people and I feel a lot better about it now.”

Butchy nodded, giving Royce a small grin as he recalled, “You know, Mickie and I had a similar issue a while back.”

Royce’s eyebrow raised as he asked, “You did?” When Butchy nodded in confirmation, Royce breathed, “Wow. I didn’t think that was possible for the two of you.”

“It’s possible for anyone,” Butchy stated. “Back then, our relationship was pretty secretive to anyone in her world and, when one of her closest friends came over for a visit, I was pretty tense. His name was Hudson and he would sit closer to her than he did to anyone else, they would talk about things I had no clue about and, when I tried to do things with them, it felt as though I wasn’t wanted.”

Pausing, Royce realized he had been in the exact same position. “That’s what happened to me with Noah,” he claimed. Shaking his head, he turned to Butchy and asked, “What happened?”

“Obviously, we were fine,” Butchy chuckled. “I found out they thought of each other as siblings. They had grown up together as their parents were close friends and had grown up treating each other as family. Just like with your situation with Noah, I found that I had nothing to worry about.”

Royce almost couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He couldn’t imagine Butchy having much of anything to worry about; he always seemed so sure of himself and, as far as appearances went, he could have found anyone to be with if things with Mick went to the wayside. However, the knowledge that even someone like Butchy had gone through something similar in his love life and still came out on top, was reassuring. Watching Butchy pile his arms full of branches and fallen tree limbs, Royce smiled, “Thank you, Butchy.”

“You’re welcome, gattino,” Butchy grinned, gently nudging the boy toward the amphitheatre. As they began walking, he added, “You had nothing to worry about in the first place.”

“What do you mean?” Royce asked as he turned to look back at Butchy.

Instead of answering directly, Butchy asked, “You know how they say the eyes are the windows to the soul?”

“Yeah?”

“Well, take a good look at how Vivien looks at you,” Butchy said with a knowing smile. “She loves you with all of her heart and it’s obvious.”

The idea had Royce smiling despite himself. He would just have to pay more attention to her eyes when he saw her next. Flicking his attention back to Butchy, he asked, “Are you sure?”

Butchy chuckled, shifting the wood in his grasp to one arm as he reached up to pat Royce on the shoulder, “I, of all people, would know. The two of you have a rare kind of love, bud. Don’t waste your time worrying about something that will only keep you from seeing what’s right in front of you.”

As Butchy gave Royce one last reassuring pat on the shoulder and continued on toward where they would soon be lighting the fire, Royce stood in place, grinning like an idiot to himself as he registered all that Butchy had told him. It was reassuring, to say the least. Pleased with the hopeful statements Butchy had given him, Royce turned to the camp and continued trekking through the woods, glad to be given more reassurance that he was on the right track. Once everyone returned from their searches for kindling, Royce took his seat on one of the wooden benches closest to the fire pit and allowed his smile to only broaden as Vivien sat beside him, her head resting comfortably on his shoulder.

The weekend, according to Royce’s schedule, were the days to dread most. The schedule for the first week had been easy enough to follow, but Royce had been silently dreading the weekend schedule he had been given. Whoever decided to pair him with Carrie in the playhouse on Saturday and in the kitchen on Sunday, had to have had it out for him. Although he had promised Miles he would at least try to be more civil with the blonde, he wasn’t sure that entailed him listening to Carrie sing show tunes all day.

After breakfast, they had made their way to the playhouse, Royce fighting the urge to tell the blonde to just be quiet as she sang some lyrics from a show she, Mick, and Vivien had made them start watching in the evenings. By the time they had finally gotten to their designated building for the day, they had met up with the other playhouse workers and Royce was subjected to hearing them blather on and on about which show they were hoping the camp would put together over the summer.

While Royce certainly cared about theatre - he had to with Vivien around - he wasn't very fond of the idea of being on stage in front of everyone and their families. He was more than willing to help out if they needed help painting sets or writing scripts, but having to memorize lines to be on stage would absolutely be outside of his comfort zone. When he made this fact known to the others, only one other person seemed to agree with him and, to Royce’s dismay, the ginger girl had nobody from her cabin with her to keep her participating and ultimately sat on the edge of the stage, more occupied with her cell phone than anything else.

After sending a few members of the group to the art barn for paints and other supplies, the group sat along the edge of the stage waiting for Vivien’s grandmother, Dawn, to arrive. They didn’t have to wait long as the doors to the barn were pushed open and Dawn took a moment to flip the doors’ respective stoppers down to keep them open. Making her way to the stage, Dawn smiled as she scanned over those present, “Well, it appears we have a full cast of players ready to help with stage prep today.”

One boy with blond-tipped hair hurried to offer Dawn a hand as she headed for the stairs on the side of the stage, “Ten in total, Nonna.”

“More than enough for today,” she commented as she stepped further onto the stage. As the workers moved into a line across the stage, Dawn examined them all briefly before smiling, “As I’m sure some of you have heard through the grapevine, we’re narrowing down our list of performances for the end-of-summer showcase.”

Murmurs of excitement passed over the group before Carrie raised a hand and asked, “Are we getting rid of more today?”

“Better than that,” Dawn said. “We’re narrowing it down to the final option.”

The boy with the blond-tipped hair - Royce was sure his name was one of those weird ones that his parents probably thought was different and creative, but was really just ridiculous - ran for the side of the stage, dragging back a whiteboard with five pieces of paper still taped to it. Each paper had a different show’s title and logo on it, but Royce couldn’t understand the hype as everyone else got excited about the listings. A Midsummer Night’s Dream, he knew, was one of Shakespeare’s plays, but he couldn’t see many children sitting still long enough to enjoy it. Legally Blonde and Hairspray had made it to the finals, but, if he was going to be completely honest, Royce wasn’t surprised; the shows were energetic and fun - something they could captivate any audience with. Clue had made it into the mix and, although it wasn’t a musical, it was certainly a fun addition. The last show on the whiteboard was a show called Arsenic and Old Lace, but Royce wasn’t sure exactly what that show entailed.

Though Royce could claim he was intrigued, it appeared as though he wasn’t nearly as excited as some of the others present as Dawn reached up and hovered a hand over the different names. Anytime she came close to stopping over a certain one, there would be exclamations of shock or pleas for her to take something else from the board. Then, her first choice came like ripping off a bandage - quick and painless - and A Midsummer Night’s Dream was torn away, leaving a small piece of paper stuck to the tape that refused to peel away from the whiteboard. One by one, the names were pulled until only Clue and Hairspray remained.

As though she was on the edge of her seat, Carrie gripped the only thing close enough to her that wouldn’t fall over - Royce’s arm. The blonde’s claws dug into Royce’s arm unknowingly, but as Royce turned to glare at her and tell her to remove herself before he did, he saw the genuine excitement glimmering in her eyes and chose to hold off on his remarks, allowing her to use his arm as an emery board as Dawn reached for the last paper. Royce watched with mild anticipation as the older woman held both papers in her hands, but as she pulled both from the board, holding one above her head in victory, even Royce felt a surge of elation. Hairspray would have been his pick of the bunch anyway.

After giving a brief speech about the musical and how they had chosen it to allow some of the campers to perform as well, Dawn began dismissing them to different areas. “Marcus, Thalia, you two are on props. There is a large bin in the storage room that should have some of what you need. We’ll get donations for the rest.”

The redhead who had been on her phone throughout most of her time in the playhouse followed a short boy to the side of the stage, the two of them disappearing behind a curtain. The boy who stood beside Dawn said, “Kiran, Summer, you’re going to be helping us with the costumes. We’ve started on a few, but we need more help.”

Dawn smiled as a paid stepped from the crowd and moved toward the curtains to watch everyone else get sorted out. Another pair was assigned to see how many chairs they could fill the audience with and, before Royce knew it, the older woman was calling his name. “Royce and Carrie, you two are going to be working on painting set pieces with me.”

Royce’s brain stalled. Was she serious? Was she really telling him to spend the rest of his day with her and Carrie? Did Vivien not tell her about how strained his relationship with Carrie was? Maybe she had and the woman simply didn't care. No, Dawn seemed too nice to do something like that. Maybe Vivien put her up to it! That sounded like a more likely cause. Vivien was forever trying to get the two of them to work past things. He wouldn’t put it past Vivien to ask her grandmother for help moving things along.

Being caught up in his thoughts, Royce missed the older woman’s dismissal of another pair and only realized he was being left behind when Carrie nudged him and told him to follow them. Containers of paint and a few wooden boards were brought outside, and the trio sat around a picnic table to work on their projects. As they worked, Carrie and Dawn began talking about their enjoyment of musicals and theatre in general while Royce got to work on using an image from Dawn’s phone to help him paint a copy of the musical’s hairspray can onto a board. After a while of radio silence on the boy’s part, Dawn reached over the table and dotted the back of his hand with a splotch of yellow paint.

Royce glanced down at his hand before looking across the table at the woman with widened eyes. “I’m sorry, did you say something?” he asked.

Dawn smirked, “No, sweetheart. You’ve just been awfully quiet. Is everything alright?”

“I’m fine,” Royce claimed, perhaps just a bit too eagerly.

“Are you sure?” Carrie tried.

“Yeah,” Royce said. Although Carrie looked ready to press further, she simply took in a deep breath and sighed as she went on with her work, allowing Royce to continue on with his work. Dawn hummed thoughtfully, but left the subject alone as she continued painting. After a while, Royce couldn’t take the silence anymore and glanced over at the woman before asking, “Do we all have to participate in the showcase performance?”

Glad to have finally caught on to the root of the issue, Dawn set a soft smile on her face and nodded, “In some way or another, yes.”

“Do we all have to be on stage at some point?” Royce questioned. “I don’t like being on stage like that.”

Before Dawn could answer, Carrie smiled as she mused, “Miles isn’t a fan of it much either, but he’s gotten out of his shell at least a little since I’ve been with him.”

“Not like you gave him much of a choice,” Royce muttered under his breath.

Ignoring the snide comment directed toward the blonde, Dawn answered Royce’s previous question, “Even the people who worked on the set design go on the stage at some point.”

After a tentative pause, Royce seemingly resigned to his fate as he nodded and breathed, “Okay.”

As Royce rigidly returned to his painting, Dawn smiled gently and said, “You know, even my husband despises being on that stage sometimes.”

“Really?” Royce questioned.

Carrie nodded, “I would have thought he would be used to it after running the camp for so long.”

“Well, I’m sure part of his reasoning is that he knows I’ve concocted some sort of end-of-year prank for him,” Dawn claimed with a shrug, “but I know he detests being on stage anyway. I just don’t see how.”

“I can,” Royce scoffed. “Up there, you’ve got blazingly hot lights shining in your face, you have to memorize a bunch of songs and dances and know when to come in for them, and we can’t forget the fact that there are at least a zillion eyes on you, judging you at all times.”

Dawn nodded thoughtfully before smiling, “But this stage is different.”

“What do you mean?” Royce asked.

“This isn’t Broadway,” Dawn said with a reassuring smile. “Up there, there is no judgment if someone forgets what to say or do. I mean, hell, if you want a good example of that, go ask Chief to show you last year’s performance of The Play That Goes Wrong. That entire show was a trainwreck, but everyone loved it.”

Royce allowed the woman’s comments to sink in before he asked, “Nobody cares if you screw up?” When Dawn shook her head, Royce tacked on, “I thought you have to be perfect on stage.”

“Nobody is perfect,” Carrie said before Dawn could. “Everyone messes up at some point or another. On the stage, we’re merely players putting on a show. As long as you have fun and enjoy yourself on the stage, nobody will care how well things go as they’ll be more focused on your energy and acting.”

Dawn nodded in agreement, “The only thing we ask of everyone is that they try to have fun no matter what they do or don’t do on stage.”

“And, if it makes it any better,” Carrie began, “you’ll have everyone you love by your side - and me, of course - and we’ll all be rooting for you no matter what you do.”

For a fleeting moment, Royce had the instinct to correct the blonde on her statement, adding her to the group that he cared about, yet he bit his tongue, holding back the instinctual comment as he gave a sharp nod. The thought of the blonde being on the list of people he cared about had never occurred to Royce before - at least, not that he knew of - and the instinct to speak his mind on the topic had certainly never come around before, so Royce had no clue where it had come from. Brushing it off as something to do with Miles and Vivien’s incessant pleas for him to mend whatever imaginary bond they saw between himself and Carrie, Royce took in a deep breath and thanked both women with a smile before returning to his painting, not once bothering to wipe the yellow paint from the back of his hand.

Normal Sundays in the Murphy household were spent on the couch, watching cartoons while they ate a late breakfast. However, that rainy Sunday morning felt anything but typical as Royce rose early and made his way to the mess hall to begin working on the breakfast he and Carrie would be serving to the line of hungry counselors and other staff arriving within the hour. Carrie arrived not long after, pulling her hair into a bun of sorts before taking an apron from the hooks on the wall and joining Royce as he pulled a variety of food from the refrigerator.

“What are we making this morning?” she asked as Royce placed a gallon of milk on a nearby metal counter.

Royce turned toward Carrie before nodding to the whiteboard beside the fridge, “It’s on the calendar. The list of everything we need is on the paper taped to the wall next to it.”

After thanking Royce, Carrie made her way to where the listing was. Breakfast at camp was simple more often than not. There was always a selection of cold foods left out for the residents to make for themselves - cereal, microwavable oatmeal, yogurts, an assortment of berries, fruit salad, and bread for toast being left on a counter off to the side of where the rest of the food was kept in heated containers. It seemed as though the options for the day were going to be simple staples as everyone would probably end up scarfing down their food in favor of getting things ready before the campers were destined to arrive the next day. According to the list, eggs were to be either scrambled or placed in breakfast sandwiches, a minimum of fifty pancakes were to be made, and a smaller portion of breakfast tacos were to be made up, wrapped, and pinned with toothpicks before the arrival of the first counselors.

“I didn’t realize just how much food was being eaten every day,” Carrie claimed.

“Yeah, well, now that you realize it,” Royce began as he began cracking eggs into a metal bowl, “do you think you could get started on making something? I can handle the scrambled eggs for the tacos and everything if you want to start on something else.”

Carrie nodded wordlessly, taking an extra bowl from the set Royce had pulled from the cupboards and looking over the supplies before picking up a box of pancake mix. “‘Just add water’ pancakes? How is that supposed to make it taste good?”

Looking up from the eggs he had been whisking, Royce gave Carrie a disbelieving stare, “You weren’t complaining when you ate them yesterday.”

“Yesterday, they had blueberries in them,” Carrie retorted.

“Then add blueberries or chocolate chips or whatever you want,” Royce shrugged, turning back to his eggs as he brought them over to the griddle to cook them. “Just don’t go overboard; it’s supposed to be quick and easy so that we have it done by the time everyone gets here.”

Carrie nodded to herself as Royce turned his back on her, grabbing a measuring cup from the counter and tearing the bag of pancake mix open. Dumping the bag into the bowl, Carrie grabbed another and crossed over to the sink, pouring cup after cup of water into the bowl until she had enough to mix into the pancake powder. Carrying the bowl over to the counter, Carrie took her time pouring the water into the powder-filled bowl, but just as she was grabbing a whisk to mix everything with, the kitchen door swung open, and a head of golden brown hair entered the room.

Royce turned to see who had come to visit them, yet quickly got back to work as he spotted Noah’s usual smirk. “What are you doing here?” he asked. “Isn’t this usual when you go out to swim?”

“Normally, yeah,” Noah agreed, observing Royce’s handiwork as he entered the room, “but Viv asked me to come and check on you guys while she’s at a short meeting with her grandparents this morning. She said you guys don’t always get along.”

“We don’t,” Carrie agreed as she stepped up to the griddle next to Royce’s and began pouring out the first of many pancakes, “but we know when to set that aside for the greater good.”

“Well, that’s good,” Noah chuckled. “I was worried I would have to start breaking up a fight or something.”

“Nope,” Royce said, trying desperately to focus on not scorching the eggs before him.

Noah hummed, watching the pair work in silence for a while, “You know, she always talks about you guys when we’re together.”

“She does?” Royce asked.

“Yeah,” Noah agreed. “She’s got some weird-ass nicknames for all of you, though. I mean, who calls someone named Bentley, Beemer? It’s not even the nickname for the Bentley car company. It’s for BMW.”

Taking in a slow breath, Royce fought to keep himself calm as he clenched his teeth and replied, “At the time, she couldn’t remember which company it was, but Bentley liked it, so we went with it.”

“Ah, that makes sense,” Noah sighed. Giving a chuckle, he continued, “I think some of her nicknames are funny, though.”

Carrie leaned forward so she could see Noah as she smiled patiently and claimed, “I do too, but they’re individually hers, and she’s almost always sincere when she uses them.”

Royce peered over at Carrie, finding the blonde’s smile to be welcoming despite her eyes portraying her desire to get Noah out of the kitchen so that they could work in peace. As Royce turned back to his eggs, he found himself smiling at the thought of Carrie kicking Noah out through the swinging doors using some moves she’d had to learn for the spy show she was in recently. Shaking the thought from his head, he chuckled, “Even when Viv calls Riven an ass, she’s got some kind of fondness to it.”

“Yeah, I heard that the other day,” Noah snorted. After a moment, he claimed, “I’ve heard most of her nicknames when we’re with other people, but I have a few I can’t see the reasoning for.”

“Like what?” Carrie asked.

Noah didn’t hesitate as he asked, “Why does she call your older brother ‘Miley’?”

“What?” Royce pressed, pausing in his scrambling of the eggs.

“Just yesterday, while we were hanging out with him on the basketball court, she called him Miley and started teasing him about losing the ball to her,” Noah recalled. “I thought it was kind of stupid. I mean, who calls a boy by a girl’s name?”

Royce could feel the urge to tackle the teenager through the swinging doors rising with every breath he took, but before he had the chance to verbally demolish Noah for his lack of tact regarding Miles’ nickname, Carrie spoke up, “Actually, it’s a family nickname. His brothers have called him that since they were little and, naturally, Vivien picked up on it after a while.”

Either Noah didn’t pick up on the glare from Royce that would have driven him six feet under or he simply ignored it as he smiled and claimed, “That makes sense.” After a while of silence, he asked, “Is there anything you guys need help with?”

“No,” Royce stated firmly, ready to get the older boy out of the room before he did something that would result in him ending up behind bars.

Carrie plastered a smile on her face as she leaned forward and said, “If you want, you could restock the staple foods in the mess hall. Other than that, we’re all set.”

Noah nodded, giving a final departing statement before exiting the kitchen to grab things from the pantry to put out for the morning meal. As soon as he was sure that Noah was gone, Royce let out a sigh and let his head hang for a moment as he breathed in a breath of relief. Wanting to help the brunet by her side although she was unsure of how he would react to it, Carrie placed a hand on his back and rubbed a small circle between his shoulder blades before returning to the pancakes before her, adding some to the plates she had set aside. Once Royce had calmed himself a bit, he hurriedly scooped the eggs he’s been cooking into a heated plate that would keep them warm until the rest of the workers arrived.

As silence fell over the room, Carrie found herself glancing at the younger boy more often to check up on him, but as they finished their respective foods and worked on slicing open packages of sausage and bacon, Carrie asked, “I do have to ask, why do you call Miles that?”

Royce looked up at the blonde, finding himself giving her a small smile as he replied, “It was something our mom called him. If I remember correctly, it started as ‘Smiley Miley’ before fading into just Miley. Most of the time, Bentley and I call him that in order to either get out of trouble or let him know we’re hurting without outright saying it. Sometimes, though, it’s just to feel closer to our mom.”

Carrie smiled thoughtfully, distantly wondering what their mom was like. Maybe, in some not-so-distant world, she had already met the woman the Murphy boys loved so much. Maybe Miles had introduced them early in their relationship and the two got along like mother and daughter. Carrie wondered just how many things would be different in a world where the brothers never lost their mother. Shaking the thought from her head, Carrie turned to Royce and asked, “Now he lets Vivien call him that too, huh?”

Royce nodded as a beaming smile flooded his face, “She doesn’t do it often at all, but I guess she does it more to tease him than anything. He doesn’t seem to mind it, though, as it’s only happened a few times.”

Carrie glanced toward the door as she heard something being torn open on the other side. Noah was still working on filling the tray of other foods, it seemed. Turning back to Royce, she asked, “It bothers you when someone from outside of your family calls him that, though, doesn’t it?”

“Usually, yeah,” Royce confirmed. “Viv is an exception since she’s known him for a while.”

“Of course,” Carrie chuckled. “It only makes sense that, since he sees her as his family just as much as you and Bentley are, he would allow her to call him such a personal nickname.”

Almost surprised with the blonde’s easy acceptance of his statement, Royce grinned and nodded as he continued cutting open bacon pouches and setting them on a plate to bring to the griddle. After the meat was fully cooked and ready to go, the two settled into a rhythm as they worked on making breakfast for everyone. Once Royce was done filling a tortilla with eggs and a few strips of bacon, Carrie would add sausage and sprinkled cheese before wrapping them up and setting them aside.

As she took another wrap from Royce, Carrie said, “I know it probably won’t mean much to you, but I’m proud of you for not letting things with Noah get to you.”

Royce snickered, “It took everything in me not to jump across the counter; somehow, I don’t think I handled that all too well.”

Carrie shook her head with a smile, “I meant with him spending so much time with Vivien these last few days. It feels like he’s been up her ass this last week, and you’ve handled it with ease and grace.”

“I did?” Royce questioned.

“Regardless of whether or not you felt like you were, I think you were,” Carrie stated. “Most boys, especially in their teens and early twenties, are insecure in their relationships and get jealous easily, but you seemed so confident in your relationship with Viv that I never once thought I would have to get Miles to step in.”

As Royce slid two strips of bacon into the tortilla and handed it to Carrie, he sighed, “At first, I was only acting like I was alright with it, but after talking with Riven, Mick, and Butchy about things, I think I felt better about it all.

“Regardless of whether or not you were merely acting,” Carrie began, placing a hand on Royce’s arm with a smile, “I know it wasn’t easy, and I congratulate you for being so mature. It was very impressive.”

Finding nothing but sincerity in the blonde’s oceanic eyes, Royce allowed himself to smile as he muttered, “Thanks, Carrie.”

The two continued on with their task only a few minutes more, their hands stilling as the doors to the kitchen swung open and an out-of-breath Vivien entered, rambling about the meeting she’d been in as she threw an apron on. However, as she turned around and saw Carrie and Royce working together in a mostly-clean kitchen, no angrily thrown pans wedged in the walls or knives held to the other’s throat, the brunette stalled, her brain short-circuiting at the scene before her.

Looking around as though she was anticipating someone to jump out of a cabinet with a camera, telling her she was being pranked, Vivien asked, “Did I just enter the Twilight Zone or something?” Royce watched his girlfriend for a moment before turning to Carrie with an amused grin. As the pair locked eyes, they burst into laughter, only furthering Vivien’s confusion about the situation. With wide eyes, Vivien watched the two laugh as though her reaction had been totally out of pocket and softly muttered to herself, “Yeah, I definitely entered the Twilight Zone.”

#Camp Wanamaker

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