Cabin in the Woods

He was a couple years younger than me. We met at summer camp. We were both counselors. The moment I saw him, I fell in love.
Halfway through the summer, a group of counselors stayed overnight at camp. We went kayaking on the lake, water dripping onto our legs and arms as we paddled. We sat on the secret beach, feeling the tiny pebbles beneath our toes. The sun started to set as we paddled back. He smiled at me from across the beach.
After dark, we sat in the play structure, playing Never Have I Ever. He held my hand, his fingers stroking the inside of my palm, up and down my fingers, our hands hidden between his side and mine so no one could see. The others went to go skinny dipping. We snuck away.
It happened in my cabin, a small one that we had all to ourselves. Our bodies pressed together on the small camp mattress, his arms tanned from the summer, my arms freckled. He held my face, ran his fingers through my hair. The sound of crickets outside as we gasped, breathed, whispered. Always alert for anyone, walking past the cabin to their own. There's something magical about having sex on a creaky wooden bunk bed, in a cabin in the woods, the only light coming from the moon.