Something in the Way (Something in the Way 1)

Of all the stories Manning could’ve chosen, there must’ve been a reason he picked that one to tell me. I’d learned about star-crossed lovers in English class. Maybe that’s where the term came from. People would try to keep me and Manning apart because of our age difference, but we had this—the stars, the lovers, the night.

“What about the third star?”

“What?”

“You said it was a triangle.”

“Oh.” His eyes roamed the sky. “I don’t know.”

“So the story is about Altair and Vega. It isn’t really a triangle at all.”

He reached up to make three points. “They’re all there, Lake. Can’t move the stars.”

“But the other one, it has nothing to do with this, right?” He must’ve heard the panic in my voice. It was hard to miss. “It’s about Altair and Vega. Just them.”

He looked over at me. “Yes. It’s about them.”

My heart began to pound. Hope lived strongly in me, and I knew with just those words, the same was true for him. It was a promise. No matter what, the story would only ever be about us.

I brushed my knuckle against his to acknowledge what I couldn’t say. Was holding hands physical? What would Manning do if I put my skin on his and asked for what I wanted? If, like Tiffany, I used touch to get it? I got up on my elbow and looked down at him. My hair fell forward, a curtain around us.

“Lake,” he said—a plea? A warning? I couldn’t tell.

I looked at his mouth. I had dreamed of it, the things it couldn’t tell me, of his lips, which couldn’t kiss me. We were alone, finally. He had told me in so many words, one day, we would cross the river to each other.

I leaned down.

He put a hand on my shoulder, stopping me. “We can’t.”

He was telling me no. Again. Like everyone else, he thought he knew better than me. Couldn’t he see that wasn’t true? That some things were bigger than right and wrong, bigger than us? Hot tears pierced the backs of my eyes. “Why not?”

“That’s just the way it is.” He touched his hand to my cheek, and I leaned into his palm. “This will have to be enough.”

I shook my head. “I’m not a child, Manning.”

“I know you aren’t. But at your age, it can be hard to think past the moment. To consider consequences. The future.”

“All I do is consider my future.”

“And you’re going to do and be great things. You’ll fly far, Birdy. See places most of us never will.” He moved my hair behind my ear. “I’m counting on it.”

But I didn’t want to fly without Manning. I was content to stay here on the ground with him, learning of the stars, but he sat up, forcing me to do the same. We got to our feet.

All at once, the dreaminess of the night wore off, leaving the shameful truth—I’d tried to kiss him, and he’d told me no. Yet he’d gotten “physical” with Tiffany. What did that mean? Could there possibly be anything bigger than my love for him, something big enough to swallow it?

My vision blurred with tears. I still hadn’t figured out the Summer Triangle. There wasn’t even a cloud in the sky—I just couldn’t find the stars.

Manning turned away from me and walked back to the fence.

It wasn’t fair. I’d seen him first. I’d had him first. But was I losing him?

Was I losing him to Tiffany?

19

Manning

Sunny, dusty days outside passed too fast. Spending a week in fresh air was exactly what I hadn’t known I’d needed. For the first time in years, I wasn’t surrounded by hardened men or straining my body so my mind wouldn’t wander too far down the wrong path. I felt like I was part of the living. The kids’ enthusiasm was exhausting and infectious. Tiffany had loosened up. Lake made me feel like a man again just for having someone to look out for.

I didn’t want it to end, but like all good things, it had to. We were leaving in the morning. Tonight, the counselors had thrown the campers a party at dinner, then sent anyone under twenty-one to bed early. Including Tiffany.

“But I’m practically twenty-one,” she’d argued with Gary.

“Aren’t you like nineteen?” he’d responded. “And even if you were twenty and three-hundred-and-sixty-four days, it wouldn’t matter. You’re underage.”

I’d walked her to her cabin while Kirk had dealt with ours. Her girls’d asked for a bedtime story, and Tiffany had pulled out a surprisingly good one. She’d told me why afterward—she’d just summarized the first three seasons of 90210.

After saying goodnight, I headed to the campfire Gary and the staff had made.

As I approached, Bucky dicked around on the guitar, plucking at random strings. Lexi, a lifeguard, passed me a Bud. All the chairs were taken, so I sat in the dirt by the fire.