“Let me see it,” he demands.

I yank the ice pack away and he gently runs his fingers over my kneecap, making me shiver.

“It’s swollen, all right,” he says softly. “Some people’s knees just aren’t cut out for long distances. The wear and tear over time makes it harder to run.”

“But they keep running?”

He nods. “Sure, they get braces, start doing new exercises to strengthen the muscle around the knee. Some people eat a lot of fish.”

I scrunch my nose, thinking of Iggy. “Fish?”

“It’s good for your knees. Now keep icing it. I’m sure it’ll feel better later—I can tell nothing’s seriously wrong with it.”

“Jere, you ran on a sprained ankle. You’re not pushing me, are you?”

“That’s different. I’d never do anything to hurt you.” His eyes bore into mine, then he suddenly digs his phone out of his pocket and swipes the screen on. “Are you working tonight?” he asks casually, not taking his eyes off his phone.

“Why? You gonna come hog my best table again?” I ask.

“No way. My friends already won’t stop talking about how hot you are. They need to get lives.”

His friends have been talking about me?

“Actually, I’m not working tonight. It’s my brother’s birthday, so I’m going with him and his friends to Normandy Lake. I promised him I’d go camping.”

“That sounds fun.”

“Want to come?” The words spilled out of my mouth before I even thought them through. It felt natural, I guess. Still, his eyes flash at the invitation.

“Yeah, sure. It’d be fun to hang out with my friend Winters.” Wrapping an arm around my neck, he gives me a noogie.

After lunch, which I can’t manage to keep down thanks to my stomach issues, Jeremiah picks me up in his Jeep and drives us out to Normandy, a lake with a white sand beach and ample camping area. I rarely see him wearing anything but mesh shorts and worn T-shirts that date to the prehistoric era, so it shocks me to learn he owns khaki shorts, a button-down shirt, and aviator sunglasses. And even more shockingly, he’s wearing them.

“How’s the leg?” he asks as he helps me out of his Jeep.

I downed a bunch of ibuprofen, so it’s not hurting anymore. “It only bothered me when I was running this morning.”

“I bet I’m right about the long distances. You’ll just have to be careful as you run more and more.”

“We’ll see what the doctor says on Monday.”

“I bet you twenty bucks I’m right.”

I huff. “You’re making my injury into a game too?”

“I thought you wanted to beat me at something. I’m just trying to be a good friend and give you opportunities.”

“Opportunities, my ass.”

“That language of yours is not very ladylike.”

“Ahem.” My brother clearing his throat interrupts our argument. Jeremiah and I look up to find Nick and his friends gaping at us. Evan’s face goes splotchy, as if invisible fairies just pinched his cheeks, and when he fiercely shakes Jeremiah’s hand, a look of pain crosses Jeremiah’s face.

“What is up with the guys in your life squeezing my hand off?” he mutters, wringing his fingers out.

“Just protective, I guess.”

“Yeah? Well I’m gonna have to stop shaking their hands or I won’t have a hand left to beat you at badminton later.”

I chuckle.

Evan brought a girl, Alisha. She’s my age and I know her from school. Always hung around the shop class guys. She definitely notices that Evan keeps looking at Jeremiah and me; while she’s collecting firewood for our campsite, she keeps snapping sticks in half and dramatically throwing them to the ground. Doesn’t she know she has nothing to be jealous of? I’ve never wanted Evan.

“C’mon,” I tell Jeremiah. “Let’s set up our tent.”

Setting up the tent consists of me doing all the work while Jeremiah stares at the rods, trying to fit them together and repeatedly reading the instructions. It baffles me that a country boy like him can’t put a tent together.

Then we decide to go for a swim. Inside the privacy of the tent, with Jeremiah waiting outside, I change into my blue-and-white checkered bikini. When I step back out to give him a turn to change, he gives me a once-over, then suddenly pulls his aviator sunglasses off and cleans the lenses on his shirt. Evan gazes over from the picnic tables, where he’s sitting with Alisha. She definitely notices him looking, but I pretend not to.