Our Own Little Bubble

I don’t do summer flings—especially not with my hot new camp director boss who’s eyeing me like I’m the last s’more. Max Harper is grumpy, infuriating, and running this kids’ camp like a tech startup. We clash. We spark. We definitely don’t kiss with only the crickets as witnesses. (Except we do. Once. Then twice.) It’s messy, magical, and completely doomed—because summer always ends.