POV: Rowan

This stupid fucking rock. How many times have I had my stupid little heart broken right here? More than I'd really care to share. It's ridiculous how we put so much importance on silly little things-- and never get the outcome we expect.

Maybe I like what the rock represents more than the memories I've had here. I like the idea of a summer romance-- three blissful months that never get spoiled by the strains of real life. Stolen fireside kisses, rowing out to the middle of the lake for a picnic, trading hoodies and-- hell, even the friendship bracelets I'd learned to braid in my sleep. 

"You want a Corona?" Kalea asked me, interrupting my thoughts. I glance at the cooler the guys had brought, overflowing with bottles. Music bumped loudly from a portable speaker they'd hung from a tree. I shrugged.

"I'll share one with you," I offer. Kalea shakes her head. 

"I don't share," She replies, handing me an ice cold beer. I roll my eyes. That's right, you don't share. You steal. 

As if on cue, she stalks off to go dance with Malik, who was already getting enough attention as it was. 

I stood by myself and struggled with my bottle cap, getting increasingly frustrated. I don't know why I even bothered coming to this stupid thing. It was just an excuse for everyone to dry hump their crush.

"Need some help?" Frankie asks, sneaking up behind me. I smile sheepishly and hand it over. In one swift motion, she grabs the drink from me and cracks it open on her lower teeth, handing it back with a smirk. I try to hide my shock. 

"Wow, I always thought doing that could break your teeth," I mutter, amazed. She laughs. 

"It can. But these are government teeth. I've had them replaced before, I can do it again," She says with an irritating amount of nonchalance. The fuck happened to her teeth? She stood there, waiting for me to take a sip.

"I don't even like beer," I admit after a long pause. She raises her eyebrows and sticks her tongue out slightly, giving me a faux-annoyed look before breaking into a laugh. 

"Me neither," She replies. Quickly, she pulls the drink from my grasp and drops it on the ground, putting her hand in mine instead. I hold my breath, and stare into her eyes, waiting. Waiting for something. 

She runs her thumb across the skin on my hand and pulls me in closer with her other arm. I'm keenly aware of her fingertips on my waist, snaked under my jacket. Her hands are warm, and they leave a trail of goosebumps as she runs each finger across my skin. I bite my lip, unsure what to do, but not wanting this moment to end.

"Frankie!" 

No. Shut up. Not you again. Things were finally getting better between us.

"Frankie!!" Blake yells from across the clearing-- from the other side of the rock. Frankie groans and throws her head back. She gives my hand a squeeze, and looks me deeply in the eyes. 

"I'll be right back," She murmurs. And then she's gone, off to attend whatever ailment Blake is suffering from this time. I sigh, and slide down against a tree. I pick up the beer that was now mostly empty on the ground and take a swig. Ugh. Gross. I take another, but stop when I feel somebody's weight drop beside me. 

"Are you into her?" Cal's voice huffs. I turn and stare at her, annoyed. She'd never even spoken to me before, and now she was trying to start something? I wasn't really the type to get jealous, but something about her rubbed me the wrong way. Maybe it was her straw-like blonde hair, or the valley-girl accent I detected-- but I wasn't a fan.

"No," I reply dryly, just wanting her to go away. 

"Good." She mutters. "But you should know that the last person Frankie touched like that was me." She forcefully grabs the beer from my hand, stands up, and stalks away. 

Good lord, these girls and their attitude problems. I can't catch a break.

Not even an hour later, the party had started dispersing. Plenty of counselors had sufficiently confirmed the namesake of Kissing Rock, and several were getting comfortable on blankets in the woods. I hadn't seen Frankie again after she went running to Blake's rescue, so I took it as my cue to leave.  Like I said, I always end up getting disappointed. 

I head back towards the cabin, hoping that none of the girls had woken up while we were so deep in the woods. I normally don't worry if we're just down the hill at the campfire, but Kissing Rock was too far for them to get to. I know it's not very responsible of us, but there's never been any issues before, especially with Darlene's cabin at the end of the row, who was fairly aware of our activities. She always kept an ear out, and the kids generally preferred her maternal company anyways.

Just as I'm about to open the cabin door, I feel a hand on my shoulder. I turn and meet Frankie's eyes-- she's panting, and out of breath, clearly having run after me. 

"Frankie, let's just go to bed," I groan, seriously not in the mood to be thrown on her roller coaster again. 

"Fuck, I'm sorry Rowan," She says, sensing my anger. I open the door and she rushes over to hold it shut with her hand. I cross my arms, facing her again. "Please let me explain," She murmurs, biting her lip nervously. I sigh and raise an eyebrow. She continues. "Blake is like-- a total idiot. I know it's not my job to take care of them, but to be honest, they took care of me in some pretty fucking rough times," Frankie indicates for me to sit down on the steps, and I oblige, listening intently despite myself. "And, well, sparing you the details, Blake tried to kiss somebody tonight and-- fuck-- as predicted, spewed all over him," She closes her eyes, as if willing the vision out of her mind. 

"I didn't realize Blake liked boys," I whispered back, trying to crack a joke. Frankie had a tendency to joke about serious things, so I hope she doesn't take it the wrong way. To my relief,  Frankie smirks, relaxing a little. 

"To be honest, I didn't either. But regardless, I had to help clean them up and take them back to their cabin-- well, actually, the infirmary-- it was a total nightmare," Frankie sighed, turning her chin towards mine. I found myself holding my breath once again, not wanting to say the wrong thing. 

"Err, do you like boys?" Frankie asks awkwardly. "Or I guess, the better question should be, do you like girls?" She glances away, and I blush, finding her nervousness to be adorable. 

"I don't know," I answer honestly. I complicate my response by taking her hand in mine. Surprised, she clutches my hand tightly and looks me straight in the eyes. Her dark eyes are glazed over with an emotion that I cannot identify, but they seem to ripple and dance like a frustrated sea. She bites her lip, thinking for a moment, before opening her mouth to speak.

"I'm sorry about tonight, I really.. I was going to--" She stops herself, shaking her head. "Fuck it," She mutters, standing up and pulling me up after her. I give her an inquisitive look, but instead of answering, she starts running, pulling me behind her by the wrist. 

Laughing loudly as the cold night air painfully nips at our hands and faces, we dance through the chairs huddled around the burning embers of the evening's campfire. She drags me up the hill, spinning around the flag pull, and into the forest. We dodge trees, and crunch our feet against leaves and sticks and pine cones. I'm laughing so hard that I can barely feel the burning in my lungs as we run and run and run. She never once lets go of my hand. 

Finally, we reach the clearing and come upon Kissing Rock. Frankie brings us to a stop, and the night stills around us. The place has nearly cleared out, and we're completely alone. Besides the blood rushing behind my ears, the only sound I could hear was Frankie and I's heavy, mismatched breathing as we stood, enveloped by the thick woods, washed in iridescent moonlight. 

We stared at each other, catching our breath. Just listening to each other breathe for a moment. Two. Before a third could pass, Frankie gripped me by the waist and pushed my back forcefully against the rock. I let out an gasp, never breaking eye contact. She had me pinned there, like a butterfly behind glass, existing solely in that moment to be admired. And then her lips clumsily, as if overcome by desire, crashed into mine, before skillfully finding their rhythm against my nervous pout. I mindlessly draped my hands around her neck, clutching fistfuls of her short hair in between my fingers-- anything to steady me, anything for some semblance of control as she took my breath away. 

Her lips were soft, but the passion with which her lips moved against mine was not. Her body was slowly pressing into mine as I gingerly opened my mouth to let her tongue meet my own. Her hands found their way under the hem of my jacket, and she held me tightly by my bare waist. I felt goosebumps raise across my stomach, but they were drowned out by the ravenous butterflies that beat their wings inside me, begging me to moan. Jesus.

I pulled away for a breath, panting. Without missing a beat, she hoisted me up against the rock and helped me wrap my legs around her waist, and we continued to kiss, and kiss, and kiss.

And there it is. The outcome I didn't expect. Jesus fucking Christ.

Surprisingly, I woke up early the next morning. It was as if the nervousness of the prior evening had never left me, and I felt my stomach churn as I glanced over at Frankie, sleeping soundly on her cot, her lips slightly parted and her hair a complete and total disaster. 

I wondered for a moment what it would feel like to have her arms wrapped around me. To feel the heaviness of her sleep as we drifted in and out of consciousness. 

But I willed the thought away. It was just a kiss, and, truthfully, Frankie was just another person who would disappear from my life. She was damaged, and angry, and god only knows how far away from Oakland she lived. She would disappear the second things got real, and leave me wondering what I did wrong. Come on, she's the type of girl that would shatter my heart into a million pieces and never look back. I don't need that kind of hurt in my life. So, it was better if I just forgot about it. Drunken kisses happen-- I mean, I had a few sips of beer, and I don't drink, so I guess you could call me a lightweight. As for Frankie, sure, she hadn't had anything-- but she was distressed after dealing with Blake. Mistakes happen. I would wager that Frankie makes quite a few. And to be honest, so do I.

"Hey," Frankie murmurs, startling me. I glance at her lidded eyes and force back a smile, replacing it with a serious nod. 

"Good morning. I think we're back on for breakfast duty, so you better get up," I mumble back, lunging out of my cot and searching through my bag for something suitable to wear. It was always chilly so early in the morning, even in the cabin, and I quickly settled on jeans, moccasins, and an oversized sweater. 

This time, I turned away as I removed the shirt I slept in and exchanged it for a halter-neck bralette. I could feel Frankie's eyes burning a hole in my skin as I danced to get away from her view. 

As Frankie grumpily started getting ready, I made my rounds to check on our campers. They were all such heavy sleepers-- the camp activities were hellishly rigorous, and I remember how difficult, yet exciting, getting up each morning could be. I picked up a few stuffed animals from the ground and returned them to sleeping arms, but none of the girls stirred. If only I'd been such an angel when I was their age-- my poor counselors put up with much more fighting. 

"Ready?" Frankie asked me. Her hair was sloppily piled into a ponytail, but the majority of her short hair had fallen out and brushed against her neck, creating a sleepy half-up look. I noticed that she was wearing my sweatshirt, but I opted not to say anything. She did look pretty cute, after all. 

"Ready," I replied, turning on my heel and quickly walking out the door, not giving her another glance the entire walk down to the mess hall.