"You know, I think that's one of those Instant Tents," Philip says. "You have to telescope out the poles and get the tent in a full upright position before staking it to the ground. You okay?"

I nod stupidly.

I'm not sure what to do. I have had so many dreams about him that part of me wants to just run into his arms. The more reserved part—the smarter part—cautions me from doing so. Instead, I remain on the ground, nursing my thumb in my mouth. I forget to even speak.

He gestures toward the foot of my car.

"You got ice in that cooler?"

He doesn't wait for an answer—just props the lid open, digs around and eventually brings a can of root beer to me.

"Should be cold enough," Philip says. "Why don't we go sit down at the picnic table. It'll be easier."

"Okay."

And then he's pulling me up from the ground, guiding me over to the bench and holding the can over my sore thumb. Each point of contact makes my skin tingle and my heart thump. I just know I'm going to make a fool of myself.

"Thanks," I say.

"De rien."

My arms tremble slightly, but he doesn't appear to notice. I focus on breathing through my nose to calm myself a little, but when I glance up at him my efforts prove worthless. I pray I don't faint in front of him.

Finally, I say—just to say something, "It's Philip, right?"

He chuckles. God, he has a great laugh.

Stop it, Alison. Don't overreact. You'll freak him out.

"It's good to see you remember my name," he says.

"Yeah. Me too," I say, not fully aware of what I'm even trying to say.

I look up at his smiling lips, so close to mine, so alive and real. If I moved but a few inches, I could –

"So, how does it feel?"

"What?"

I don't think. I look up at his eyes. Stupid decision.

"Your thumb," he says.

"Huh?"

"You injured it."

There's a strange movement of discoloration in his irises, and then my head throbs with a short but intense migraine. It passes through my head, down my neck and out to my palms. I blink, and it is gone. My shoulders relax, and I exhale.

So, it was him who calmed me before.

I smile but say nothing about it. It still sounds so ridiculous to say out loud.

"Oh, it's fine," I say. "I'm fine."

His grin rises into his eyes before he removes the cold can off my thumb. He pops the tab and takes one long gulp before setting it on the table beside me.

"Good," he says. "So, how about we get this tent up?"

With Philip around, putting up the tent isn't just easy, it's fun.

He scoots behind me, brushing up against me briefly as he moves to the other end of the tent. My heart flutters.

"So," I say. "How come you never called?"

He chuckles a little.

"Uh . . . yeah . . . that," he says and snaps his pole into place. "That's . . . uh. You wan'na start extending out the legs on your side? I've got it here."

"Yeah, sure," I say. "Like this, right?"

He smiles, and my insides bubble.

"You got it."

"So, did you lose it?"

He walks around the tent, pulling at the legs and ensuring everything is tight and secure. He answers with his back toward me.

"Um . . . not exactly," he says. "So who did you come with?"

"Huh?"

He looks at me.

"You're not going to tell me you're camping alone in this giant tent, are you?"

I now wish I were.

"Oh, no," I say. "It's just me and my cousins . . . Oh! And one of Mia's friends. I'm sure they'll be happy to meet you. Well, shocked, really."

And I imagine their faces when they realize I'm with such a hot guy. Or wait. I'm jumping ahead of myself. What's wrong with me? Just because we've flirted doesn't make us a couple. It doesn't even mean he likes me. He could just be a big flirt.

He squats down to pick up the stakes and looks at me again.

"Mia's here?"

"Uh, Yeah."

He raises his eyebrows before moving to the corner of the tent and hammering in the first stake.

"That could be trouble," he says.

My impulse is to agree with him, but I'm caught off guard by his statement.

"You know Mia?" I say.

He smiles.

"She's your cousin. Of course, I know her."

He moves to the next corner, and I decide to pull the sleeping mats from the trunk.

"But—"

"She was in Baraboo last fall," he says. "I mean, I didn't recognize her at first, but it was her."

"Is that where she went?"

"What do you mean?"

I stop myself before blowing up the first mat.

"Oh, just that she disappeared for two months," I say. "When she turned up, no one told me what had happened."

"Huh."

"Did you talk to her?"

He chuckles.

"Uh . . . not really," he says.

"Not really?"

He smiles again, his eyes turning to the side as if he's remembering something funny.

"They were screwing around over near the Man Mound," he says. "Pretty sure they confused it for an Indian cemetery. So I decided to have a laugh and scare them."

My lips slip from the valve as a laugh escapes my mouth.

"Did it work?"

"Oh yeah. I'm very good at frightening people."

The campsite is near-perfect, the picnic table draped in a red, white and blue table cloth, held down neatly in the corner by stones with the cooler sitting just below. A plastic cup sits in the center anchored down by stones and filled with various wild flowers—Philip's idea.

Alone and cocooned in the tent with the windows still zipped shut, we finish laying out the sleeping bags. Then, Philip turns toward me.

"So, I have something I've been meaning to show you," he says.

I sit down on the sleeping mat across from him, and he pulls something small, flat and rectangular out of his pocket. He glances at it for awhile, smoothing out the folds between his fingers before handing the photo to me.

"I would have shown you last time," he says. "But well . . . I usually prefer to keep it in its frame."

I look down at the picture, and a younger and happier version of myself smiles back up at me. I am wearing a lavender sun-dress and have a white carnation in my hair. Next to me is a boy, maybe 13-years-old, with one arm around my shoulder and the other extending out to take the selfie.

His dark hair is much shorter, though with a slight wave under the ends. We appear to be sitting on a large wooden canopy bed. It looks antique, but I have no idea where the photo was taken. The walls in the background are gray and unfamiliar, as is the dress I was wearing, the photo and the entire situation.

"When was this taken?" I ask.

"Just before . . ." But he trails off, and we make eye contact. It is enough said, and I look back down at the photo.

"So I was 11," I say mostly to myself. "God, I look so happy."

He moves to sit beside me, and I'm aware of the heat radiating from his shoulder.

"You were," he says.

Then I peer over at him, considering him for a moment.

"And this boy in the picture. I take it, that's you?"

He smiles.

"Oui."

And the urge to lean in and kiss him tempts me.

But I say, "How did you know to bring this photo?"

He averts his eyes.

"I sort of knew you'd be here," he says.

"Really," I say.

"Yeah."

"Well, what did you do? Hack into the State Park's reservation database?"

He bites his bottom lip for a moment and pushes some hair behind his ear.

"Well, I did something," he says.

"Something?" I laugh.

He looks at me and gives a flirtatious smirk.

"Oh, Alison. You're wanting me to fill you in on all my secrets already?" he says. "Where's the fun in that?"

He nudges me with his elbow, and I chuckle. I don't know when the last time was that I felt this happy. Oh, wait. I do. It was the last time I saw him.

"Don't worry," he says. "I promise you once I take you down to my secret lair, I'll tell you everything. But right now—"

"Secret lair?"

"Oh! Did I say secret lair? What I meant was—"

But he cuts himself off, and his head turns abruptly.

"Someone's coming," he says.

And indeed, I can hear people outside as well. I can't make out their words, but I recognize the voices.

"Sounds like my cousins," I say, and then I'm getting up from the mat.

Philip, however, stays where he is.

"Aren't you coming to meet them?" I say.

There is a pause, but then he smiles, nodding his head slightly. He looks at me.

"You go ahead," he says. "I've got a plan."

I laugh. "Okay . . ."

And then he's standing up, untying the dividing wall between the two rooms of the tent.

"Don't mention me, though," he says. "At least not until I come out. I'd like to get the full reaction when I make my grand entrance."

My cheeks hurt from all the smiling.

"What are you going to do?"

He gives an evil grin.

"You'll see," he says and then starts zipping the dividing wall closed.

I stand there motionless, wondering what to expect.

My cousin's voices draw closer.

"Oh my God," I hear Brianna say. "Did she do all this by herself?"

"Looks like we won't need your muscle, after all, guys," Mia says with a giggle.

It dawns on me that Philip might step out partially undressed, but I have no time to address the issue as I hear Brianna from outside of the tent say, "Alison, are you hiding in there? You'll have to excuse her, she's rather—"

I unzip the tent and slip out feeling a mixture of confidence, giddiness, and guilt, giving my mannerisms the air of embarrassment.

"Hi," I say, breathlessly, and then notice the four young guys standing behind my cousins and Sophie. Two look to be about Sophie and Mia's age, while the other two look closer to Brianna and my age. I wonder if this is a coincidence.

Brianna introduces the guys, but I have trouble comprehending their names. The one name that sticks out is that of the largest guy in the group. He is what people would politely call 'big boned' – not exactly buff or fat, but a mixture of the two, with a farmer's tan not hidden by his tank top. His name is Blake, and his smile rises when I look his way.

No. Probably not a coincidence. My cousins act like you can't do anything without coupling up. I don't get it.

"Hi," he says and twiddles his fingers up in the air.

After an awkward moment of silence, Brianna shoves me in Blake's direction.

"Well, don't be shy," she laughs a little to forcefully. "Go say 'hi.'"

Blake and I step the short distance to the picnic table while the rest of the group discusses how to kill time till dinner, and I watch the tent, waiting for Philip's moment. But though the partially unzipped opening of the tent wavers in the breeze, nothing happens.

What's he doing in there?

"So, you're cousins. They tell me you're starting college in the fall," he says.

"Uh huh," I say.

"So like," he says. "What you planning on majoring in?"

"Just an Associate's in Paralegal."

I am starting to wonder if he's going to step out nude . . . or worse. But what could be worse?

"Oh yeah?" Blake says. "You have an interest in law?"

I have the urge to stop Philip from whatever he's about to do when Sophie says, "Hey, Alison? Are the duffel bags in the tent?"

She steps inside the tent before I'm able to reach her. I freeze in place, waiting for the scream, the laughter, for the 'Oh my God.'

"Wow!" Sophie says from inside the tent, sounding not only surprised but pleased.

I can't resist. I storm into the tent, ready to explain to Sophie that it's only a joke. I've never been with a guy. I've never even kissed a guy. Philip is just –

But Sophie is alone in the tent. The dividing wall is fully open and Sophie turns and says, "Brianna, seriously. Like, the only thing missing is little chocolates on the pillows. Alison really outdid herself."