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" — yeah, and so I told Mom we'd hang out with him for the summer."

Cam choked on his straw. Pepsi shot up his nose and caused him to cough up the contents of his soda, saliva landing on the diner table with a wet splat. Kenji at least had the heart to look worried at his extreme reaction. Mae just looked supremely disgusted.

"Not Wyatt?" he finally managed to wheeze out. "Asshole, Wyatt? Bane of my existence, Wyatt?"

Kenji furrowed his eyebrows at Cam. "I know you don't like him, but — "

"I don't like him?" Cam's mouth dropped open. "Is that what that sonuvabitch told you? That's rich seeing as how he's the one who pushed me down a well when we were in sixth grade!"

"You did try to make out with him," Mae said, shrugging. She dipped a French fry in her milkshake and pointed it at him. "I'd push you down a well if you tried to make out with me, too."

"Okay, first." Cam snatched the fry out of her hands and turned it on her. "I didn't try to make out with him. There was no trying going on anywhere near that well. We were totally kissing, and he had some weird, straight freak-out, and then shoved me down a well." He munched down on the fry, giving Mae a pointed look. "Facts."

Kenji opened his mouth to say something dumb and reasonable, so Cam held up a hand before he could.

"A dark, freezing, probably hiding a dead body well, Kenji!" He yelled, arms flailing. "Your cousin is evil incarnate. He's a total ass, and he's not hanging out with us this summer."

"Okay, but — "

"No buts!" Cam looked affronted. "Whose side are you on?"

"For the record," Mae cut in, "I'm on the side of whoever's paying for my meal, because I totally, and most definitely not on purpose, left my wallet at home."

Cam pointed at her. "I am willing to give bribes for loyalty. Since apparently — " He shot Kenji a meaningful look. " — buying loyalty is the only way to get it around here."

"Don't you think you're being a bit, I don't know, of a jerk? Think about it from his perspective. A black kid moving to a small town in the South, in the middle of the summer, with no friends and no way to make friends."

"What does race have to do with anything? You're black and Asian, and you managed to survive out here. Why can't he?"

"We live in Virginia. When doesn't race have to do with anything? And no offense, I love you two, you're my best friends in the whole world, but I wouldn't call having only two friends — one being a hyperactive spaz and the other being — "

"Being what?" Mae challenged, raising a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. She had a silver fork clutched in her fist. Kenji opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it, again. Closed it.

"My point is," he continued nervously, "if I had never met you two, and if I'd never got the job at the shelter, I'd probably have moved back to Pennsylvania with Dad, already."

"I think that has more to do with you being a total loser than mixed," Mae commented.

"I am not a loser."

Cam scoffed. "Ten bucks says he's got puppies on his boxers."

"Disgraceful." Mae shook her head, and then after looking over Kenji thoughtfully, replied, "You're on."

"MY POINT IS," Kenji repeated loudly, looking slightly panicked at the idea of Mae and Cam pantsing him in public again, "Wyatt doesn't have you two like I do. The least we could do is hang out with him until he can get his footing and find different friends. It's only for the summer."

"Fine," Cam grumbled, stealing another fry from Mae's plate. "But lunch is on you."

Kenji nodded eagerly. "Great, because he should be here like any minute now."

"Wait — what?"

Cam barely had time to even process such a colossal statement when the bell to the diner rang, and Wyatt walked through, looking lost and way hotter than he remembered. Smooth, dark skin. Honey brown eyes. Cam's eyes skipped from the head of black messy curls to the glasses now perched on his face and then to his torso, and wow — shoulders. When did he get shoulders?

Wyatt paused at the front entrance, scanning the diner until they landed on the booth the trio had claimed at the back.

"Fuck," Cam hissed, sliding down on his seat to make himself less noticeable. Mae and Kenji were turned around now, and Kenji was waving him over like a maniac. He propped an elbow up on the table, desperately hiding his face with his hand.

People were probably looking now. This was a small town; Cam's sure no one's forgotten about the one and only chance Cam has had at a relationship ever was with that little African American boy—yeah, the one who pushed poor Cameron down a well. What ever happened to him?

Well, tune in, folks. He's here, already ruining Cam's life.

"Wyatt!" Kenji said happily. There was shuffling and an oof from Mae, and suddenly two sets of shoes were standing next to the booth. There was awkward bro-hugging and back-slapping and then Kenji turned back towards the booth. "You remember Maeve," he said, "...and, of course you remember Cameron."

"How could I forget?" Wyatt murmured, and holy seven deadliest of sins, when did his voice get so deep...and so languid...and so hot? How many times was he going to equivalate Wyatt with being hot? God, how long was he going to hide behind his hand?

Mae kicked at his leg, and Cam cleared his throat, sitting up like he hadn't been hiding like the coward he was. Fuck, were those freckles dotted across his nose? Christ.

"Uh, hey, Wyatt. Buddy. You look well." He flushed bright red. Nice choice of words, dumbass. "I mean — uh, good. You look, uh, wow, um good. Good?" He ran a hand through his blond hair self-consciously. Did he remember to brush it this morning? "I mean, not that you don't look well, either. But, uh, I mean — wells, am I right?"

He started to laugh, but trailed off when he caught the look on his friends' faces. Mae looked like she was about to slam her — or his, hopefully — head against the table and Kenji was openly gaping now.

"Well," Wyatt said after a moment. Cam wasn't sure whether to laugh or cringe. He didn't have to choose either, because suddenly Wyatt was moving again. Shrugging off his jacket, he slid into the booth, knocking Cam's elbow off the table and shoving him, without finesse, towards the window to make room for himself. In the close confines of the booth, their shoulders knocked together. "At least the cat's out of the bag."

"Elephant in the room," Kenji added helpfully.

Cam snorted. "Asshole in the diner."

Mae waved a hand dismissively. "Etcetera."

Cam was a little in love with summer.

He was floating on the surface of the lake, legs submerged halfway underwater and hands paddling lazily alongside them, keeping him afloat. There wasn't much sun here; the "lake" was nothing more than an old rock quarry. A forest towered around them, the sun's rays blinking in and out through the leaves as it started to set.

This was the best time to come down here, when day was well on its way to becoming late afternoon, when Mae, Kenji, and Cam had the water all to themselves.

There was a loud splash and the sound of Mae shrieking and then both of his friends were laughing as they broke out into an all-out war, water sloshing and shouts piercing through the tranquility.

Wyatt was here, too, sitting on the shore and unsurprisingly draining the fun out of everything he did. Cam shifted so he was swimming upright, eyes locking onto the boy. He wasn't even wearing a swimsuit which — weird. He was at the lake. What was he going to do, sit there and skip rocks all day?

As if on cue, Wyatt tossed a rock around in his hand, testing the weight of it, and then flicked it out across the water. It hopped, one two three four five six times, before plunging the depths.

Cam rolled his eyes and ducked back underwater.

Why was it fair Wyatt not only suddenly became even more good-looking than his sixth-grade counterpart, but he also happened to magically be good at everything?

It's like every thing he did, he managed to one-up Cam somehow. He's knocked his high-score off the Pacman machine at Donnie's (Cam's proudest achievement by the way), was better at Call of Duty than Cam was and now Kenji always wanted Wyatt to play video games with him.

God, even with the town! Which, it's not hard to win the town over when you drop them a couple of smiles, and help them carry their groceries, and occasionally do their lawn work but god — and now suddenly he can skip a rock six times longer than Cam can?

It's like God is punishing him or something. Which, ridiculous, he's a good Christian boy! He goes to church on Sundays, only swears in moderation, and his porn history is fairly normal, thank you very much.

Coming back up for air, Cam wasn't quick enough to duck and miss the rock that came hurtling towards him. It smacked him right against the eye with a force that jerked Cam's head back. He swore loudly. Birds scattered. Mae and Kenji stopped play-fighting. Wyatt scrambled to his feet, looking horrified.

He should be scared. He should be fearing for his goddamn life.

"I am so sorry," Wyatt apologized as Cam clambered on shore. "I didn't see you there."

"Sure," Cam snapped, shoving past Wyatt as he stomped for the Captain America towel he had laid out a good hundred feet away from Wyatt's plain navy blue one. "Like this wasn't your plan all along. Oh, hey, you know what would be fun? Let's go back to Virginia and injure Cameron some more."

"It was an accident," Wyatt insisted.

Cam risked a glance towards him, and saw he had picked his towel off the ground and was trailing after him. "Oh, Christ, Wyatt. Leave me alone."

"You need to put some ice on that."

"It's fine," Cam grumbled. It wasn't. He couldn't even open it, and his whole eye felt like it was throbbing.

Wyatt didn't look convinced and rummaged around in the cooler, putting handfuls of ice into his towel and twisting it around so it made a makeshift ice pack. He looked at Cam expectantly.

"Come near me with that, and I'll kill you."

Wyatt either didn't hear him or didn't care.

Kneeling on Chris Evans' face, he grabbed Cam by the shirt so he wouldn't scramble away and pressed the ice-filled towel against his eye.

Cam hissed and jerked back. Wyatt's grip on his shirt tightened. "Stop being such a baby."

"You're going to ruin my shirt!"

Wyatt rolled his eyes. "Who swims with their shirt on, anyway? Got something under there you don't want people to see?"

"I could ask the same thing about you."

Wyatt's hand, still pressed against Cam's eye, faltered. "I don't swim."

Cam was unconvinced. "What, you don't know how or something?"

"I'm not an idiot; I know how to swim. I just don't."

"You just don't...what, have fun? Why are you even here, then?"

Wyatt furrowed his brow. "You invited me."

"Uh," Cam sat back, shoving the ice and Wyatt's hand away from him, "let's get two things straight. One: I didn't invite you, Kenji did. I was the ill-fated messenger. Two: Even if I did invite you, why would you come? That doesn't make any sense."

Something unrecognizable flashed across Wyatt's face, but it was gone within the second. Turning his attention back to the ice, he said, "Just trying to be polite."

"Polite? I'm just some big joke to you, is that it?"

Wyatt's expression soured. "Why are you always playing the victim?"

"Why are you always being an asshole?"

Wyatt stared. Cam stared back defiantly.

Cam pressed his lips tight together and tried not to jolt when Wyatt's gaze dropped to his mouth. He wondered if Wyatt was thinking about the well. Not the pushing, but the kiss. God, the kiss. Wyatt had been skinnier, then. They'd been younger, breathless boys. It wasn't a great kiss; they were too inexperienced, eager for something they knew nothing about but...before Cam fell, before he sprained his wrist and swallowed a gallon of water...it'd been good.

At least until Wyatt went and ruined it.

They barely noticed Kenji and Mae had made it on shore until Kenji yelled at them, waving his phone around.

"No one make plans tomorrow!" he hollered. "We're going to a party!"

It began at Franco's party.

Or, maybe that's where it ended — it certainly felt like the end for Cam; everything was spinning and he felt something rising in his throat, and what kind of apocalypse would this be if Wyatt wasn't off talking to some pretty blonde girl?

"You're staring again!" Mae yelled, a red solo cup in one hand and a bottle of god knows what in the other. She was dancing in place, the dark makeup she'd took over an hour to put on was now smeared across her face.

"'m not staring," Cam replied miserably. He stared at Wyatt, watching as he laughed out loud at something the girl said, his head falling back and his whole body jerking at the action.

Cam wondered if he was going to kiss her. Maybe he'd push her down a well, too.

Maybe that was what constituted as foreplay with Wyatt.

"You're staring," Mae repeated, tipping the bottle at him knowingly before she took a swig. It was clear she was on the track to becoming wasted; her jean overalls had a wet, dark spot on the front and somewhere within the hour they'd been here, she'd lost her red heels.

"Who even is that girl?" Cam frowned. "And, what is he doing? Is he laughing? Can he just — just do that? I've never seen him laugh before. I mean, laughing? Wyatt? Sounds fake."

"Maybe if you weren't such an oblivious asshole all the time, and opened your eyes — sorry, eye."

Cam squinted at Wyatt. "I mean, what does she have that I don't have?"

"A vagina, two very large mounds of fat on her chest, a future — "

"Give me that." Cam snatched the bottle of alcohol out of his friend's grasp. Mae huffed and stalked away.

Whatever. He didn't need friends anyway.

"Cam! Keg stand!"

Cam glanced up from where he was glaring at his phone, his good eye watering from staring at the bright screen from too long. Kenji's eyes were a little glazed, his pupils way too huge for him to be sober, but he was grinning like the sun specifically rose just for him.

He only did it because he hoped the boy's optimism would rub off on him.

It didn't.

Three hours later, he was more drunk, even more miserable, and contemplating if it was worth it to climb the stairs and throw himself off the top balcony. He decided it wasn't when he realized that would require him to walk, and he doubted he had the capacity to even put his feet underneath him.

The party was still going strong around him, and he thought he could hear Mae singing from the top of her lungs somewhere but his head hurt way too much to try to locate her so he curled up against the sofa with the questionable stains and closed his eyes.

Something hard jabbed into his side and Cam startled, flailing wildly as he shot up. There was a tired looking boy staring down at him, broom in hand.

"You can't crash here, man," he told him, gesturing around the now almost empty room. A few stragglers tried and failed to heave themselves up off the floor. "Gotta go."

Cam nodded and waved the boy off.

It didn't take him too long to find Kenji, spread-eagled on the pool table, a Sharpied penis and swastika on his forehead. Mae was curled up in the kitchen, a forgotten handful of Lucky Charms crunched in her fists.

"Where's Wyatt?" he asked, nudging his shoe into her exposed flesh.

Mae mumbled something unintelligible and her head lolled over to the side. Cam took a picture before he left.

Wyatt, as it turned out, was sitting out on the front porch with his head tucked between his knees, looking like he was going to be sick. Cam didn't have it in him to pretend he was anything but annoyingly attracted to the asshole in front of him, so he sat down next to him, bumping his knee against Wyatt's to grab his attention.

"If you've got to puke, there's a pretty nice vase inside that looks unsullied."

Wyatt only poked his head out an inch. "If you're here to just make fun of me — "

"Relax. I'm just checking if you're alright."

"Well, I'm fine," he snapped. "You can go piss someone else off. I'm not in the mood."

Cam nodded, tapping his fingers rhythmically against his jeans. "Ah, there's the Wyatt I know and hate."

"Yeah, well." Wyatt glared back at the ground, like it was the source of all his woes. "The feeling's mutual."

Cam stared. "What's your problem, dude?"

His head snapped up. "My problem? You're the one who's been a total dick to me ever since I got here."

"Yeah, and rightfully deserved! Or, did you forget what happened back in sixth grade? Because I sure as hell didn't." He waved his wrist. "I've got the hospital records to prove it."

"No, I remember. You kissed me. How could I forget?"

The way Wyatt looked at him then, utterly disgusted like Cam was something he scraped off the bottom of his shoe — Cam would never forget it. His face grew hot under that glare, humiliation and shame battling it out in his gut.

He wanted to say something, anything, but he couldn't find the words. He couldn't find anything past the contempt on Wyatt's face, so he did what he always did when he felt his emotions overwhelming like this, when he couldn't separate his hurt from his confusion from his anger.

He turned and he walked away.

Cam woke up to sunlight stabbing at his eyes, and a stranger standing at the foot of his bed.

"Turn the light off," Cam mumbled sleepily, rolling over and reaching for his blanket to cover his head. His fingertips barely skirted the surface before it was torn off him.

"Get up," the stranger snapped.

Cam rolled over, shoving his face into his pillow, drowsy and half-asleep. "Mmm...just like that — Oof!"

He hit the floor with a loud thump before scrambling to his feet angrily. He was about to yell at the intruder until he saw who it was. Oh. Right. He did sleep over last night.

"I don't know what you did," Kenji fumed, "but you're going to apologize. Right now."

Cam rubbed his good eye. Was he seeing this right? A non-happy Kenji? "Sorry, what?"

Kenji's nostrils flared, and he grabbed Cam by his arm, fingernails digging ruthlessly in his skin as he dragged him out of the room, down the hall to the last door on the right.

Cam balked. "What — "

Before he could finish his sentence, Kenji shoved him into the room and slammed the door shut behind him. The lock clicked.

A hurricane surrounded him.