The summer they met smelled like pine sap and sunscreen, like lake water warmed by the sun and secrets whispered after lights-out. Camp Alder Ridge woke early, with bugles and banging screen doors, but Alex and Rowan always seemed to exist a few beats outside the schedule—leaning against the mess hall wall while the campers stampeded past, sharing a look that said *I see you*, even here, even now. They wore the same faded counselor T-shirts, but somehow carried them differently: Alex all sharp wit and easy confidence, Rowan quieter, eyes always catching on small, beautiful things no one else noticed.