"Your girlfriend?" I ask breathily, squeezing the circulation out of his hand.

The determination that was once there begins to flicker when he hears the disbelief in my question, "Y-Yeah...? Is that not what you are?"

Dumbfounded is probably the best word to describe what I am at the moment.

This entire time he assumed we were dating. I can't tell who was the real idiot here.

"Hold on." I rise from the bed and look down at him.

He shrinks beneath my gaze, looking like a child on the verge of being scolded by his mother.

"For weeks, I've been thinking this was temporary. I've been shoving my feelings down because I didn't think you wanted this to become something more. And now you're telling me that you assumed we were a couple?! That I'm your girlfriend?"

I might have sounded infuriated, but I just wanted to clear the air before I did something irrational. Because the minute the word "girlfriend" slipped past his lips, I wanted to kiss him until we were begging for oxygen. I wanted to hear him call me his as he worshipped me in every way possible. I wanted him to know that I've been all in, despite my mind thinking otherwise.

"Are you mad?" He asks, his voice sounding as quiet as ever. Yeah, that's right. Aiden. Quiet.

"Are you kidding...? If anything, I'm mad at myself for...for not realizing it sooner," I finish, my voice softer now. I run a hand through my hair, pacing slowly. "I've been so scared of wanting more that I didn't even stop to think you might already feel the same."

He sits there, eyes wide and uncertain. His grip on the blanket tightens. "So... what now?"

I stop pacing and look at him—really look at him. Every ounce of doubt begins to dissolve. "Now, I stop holding back."

Before he can say anything else, I close the space between us, stand between his legs hanging off the bed, and cradle his face in my hands. His breath hitches, but he doesn't pull away. Slowly, I lean in, giving him the chance to stop me if he wants to.

He doesn't.

And when our lips finally meet, it's not tentative or hesitant. It's everything I've been holding back. Those weeks of uncertainty and constant worry dissipates the moment we connect. His hands find my midriff, grounding me as I pour everything into this kiss.

This one is different. I feel it in the way our mouths dance in a harmonious rhythm. He isn't just kissing me for that slice of physical intimacy. From here on out, it means so much more than that.

When we finally break apart, his forehead rests against mine. His smile is small but genuine.

"So... you're my girlfriend?"

I laugh, breathless. "Yeah. I think I always was."

"Great..." His smile morphs into that lopsided grin I've learned to love. He cradles the back of my neck with his calloused palm and pulls me in for one final kiss, "...What were we talking about again?"

I giggle at the way his expression appears drunken with admiration, "Your dad."

His smile drops dramatically and his hands fly off me as if he just got burned, "Yup. It's true when they say that mentioning family kills the mood."

I never laugh as much as I am right now, and it's all because of this perfect boy sitting in front of me, "Hey, you asked."

"C'mon, sunshine," He groans, jumping onto his feet and tugging my wrist the way a toddler would, "Let's get this over with before I change my mind."

---

We make our way to the campground's entrance, my fingers laced with Aiden's. His grip is firm, almost too tight, but I don't loosen it. I can feel the tension rolling off him in waves. His pace is brisk, but there's a hesitance in the way he holds himself—like he's walking toward something he's not ready to face. And in a way, he isn't.

Mr. Clark is already there, waiting by his car with his arms crossed over his chest. The golden hues of the setting sun cast sharp angles on his face, making his displeasure even more pronounced. His gaze flicks to our joined hands and Aiden's lack of bags, and something in his jaw tightens.

"Took you a while."

Aiden swallows hard. His shoulders twitch like he wants to shrink under his father's gaze, but he forces himself to stand still. "Didn't realize I was on a schedule." His voice is lighter than usual, almost like he's trying to mask his nerves with indifference.

Mr. Clark exhales sharply, already exhausted with this conversation. "Aiden, get your things. We're leaving."

Aiden doesn't move. He shifts his weight slightly, fingers tightening around mine, but his voice falters when he speaks. "I... I'm not going anywhere." He hesitates before continuing, drawing in a deep breath. "And I want you to meet Y/N. My girlfriend."

His father's expression remains impassive, but I catch the flicker of irritation in his eyes. "Girlfriend." He says it like the word is distasteful. "Is that supposed to change anything?"

Aiden hesitates again. His grip on my hand turns clammy, and for a second, I think he's going to back down. I've never seen him look so...small. His whole life, he's been conditioned to obey, to avoid conflict with his father. He shifts on his feet, glancing down like he's weighing his options. But then he takes another breath, steadies himself, and says, "No. But you should know, since you act like you get a say in my life."

"I do get a say. You carry my name, Aiden. You understand what that means, don't you?" His voice is cool, condescending. "People are watching. What do you think they'll say when they see on the headlines of every major news article my son is wasting his time here instead of preparing for his future?"

Aiden flinches. He looks away for a second, jaw tight, hands shaking slightly. As much as I want to say to the man in front of us, this isn't my fight. Aiden has to pull through without me. "I—" His voice catches, the years of expectations tightening around his throat. "I know what you want me to be. I always have." His eyes flicker to mine briefly before landing back on his father. "But I don't think you've ever really known me."

His father exhales, pinching the bridge of his nose like he's dealing with a child throwing a tantrum. "Enough. This camp nonsense ends now. You've had your fun, but it's time to come home."

Aiden lets go of my hand. He stares at his father, fear still lingering in his eyes, but then, with a deep breath, he takes a step forward. His voice is quieter now, but firm. "No."

Mr. Clark's expression hardens, though there is an ounce of genuine surprise in his eyes. "Don't be foolish. You have responsibilities—"

"To who? To you? To your company? Because I sure as hell don't have any to myself in your world." Aiden's voice wavers at first, but as he speaks, something shifts. The fear turns into frustration, then into something even stronger. "I've spent my whole life walking the path you paved for me, making choices that would make you look good, following rules I never agreed to. And for what? So I can be another extension of your success story?"

His father's eyes narrow. "You're being dramatic."

"No, I'm being honest." Aiden's breath is heavy, his hands trembling at his sides. But he doesn't step back. "For once, I'm doing something for me. Something that makes me happy. And you can't stand it, can you?"

A silence stretches between them, thick with something unspoken. Mr. Clark stares at Aiden, his gaze unreadable, as if searching for the son he thought he had control over. But Aiden doesn't waver. He squares his shoulders, lifts his chin just slightly, and in that moment, he looks more like himself than I've ever seen before.

I feel like I shouldn't be here anymore and slowly back away. But Aiden reaches behind him without tearing his eyes away from his father. His hand grasps the front of my shirt and holds me in place so I don't leave.

Finally, his father exhales slowly, smoothing down the front of his expensive blazer. "If you walk away from this, Aiden, don't expect me or your mother to clean up your mess when you come crawling back."

Aiden lets out a short, humorless laugh. "I never asked you to."

Mr. Clark gives him one last look, then turns and strides toward his car. He doesn't say goodbye. He doesn't even glance at me. The sound of his footsteps fades, followed by the roar of an engine, and then... nothing.

Aiden stays rooted in place, staring at the empty space where his father's car had been. His fists are still clenched, his breathing uneven. I take a cautious step closer and gently place my hand on his arm. "Aiden?"

He exhales, shaking his head before looking at me. His expression is unreadable, but then, slowly, his shoulders relax. His hand finds mine again, and he squeezes it—this time, not out of tension, but something softer. Something certain.

"He's gone," he mutters, almost in disbelief.

"Yeah," I say, squeezing back. "And you're still here."

A slow, lopsided grin tugs at his lips. "Yeah. I am."

And for the first time, I think he finally understands what that means.