For a Pessimist, I'm Pretty Optimistic

Mitchie's POV

I feel infinite, forever suspended in bliss. The sunlight that reflects off of the lake is blinding. I close my eyes and draw it all in: the calls of the bids, the sound of lapping water, the scent of earth after the rain, and of course, Shane Gray.

In this moment, he's only scratches of pen on a Stenographer's notebook, the heat of leather against my bare skin and a lovely fragrance that I can't quite place. Of course, that's only the tip of the iceberg. To say the least, he was the driving third of a global phenomenon that had wedged itself into millions of adolescent hearts, somewhere between N*Sync and My Chemical Romance. But he was quiet. Intuitive. Brooding. Peaceful. Mildly borderline, but charming nonetheless.

It was the Shane Gray that only some got to see, and I was lucky enough to see him. In the back of my mind, I always wondered if Tess had ever gotten this close. Of course, I reminded my self, smile creeping onto my face, Tess was the least of my worries.

The intolerable Tess Tyler was not staying for Session 2. Humiliation, mingled with general ill-will and a case of sour grapes over the Final Jam had driven the wicked witch out of Camp Rock, and debatably for good. As much as it pained me to say it, Shane was all mine.

"There's that smile."

My eyes flew open as his voice cut through the tranquility of the lake, and once again I was hit how lucky I was to be this close to Shane Gray. Jet black hair, ruffled and spiked every which way—perfectly acceptable on a hazy Sunday afternoon—and a delightful, lopsided smile on his own gorgeous face. All mine.

"Yes," I reply shyly, looking out over the sparkling lake once more.

"Well," he coaxed, a devilish sort of look on his face. "Come on. What's the grin about?"

I laughed, shifting closer to him to place my head on his shoulder. "Nothing, nothing. I'm just excited for another week of camp. And I'm glad there's no more drama," I add, thinking about the start of last session. Last session was rather… rough, to say the least. I glanced up at him to gauge his reaction. He had made an odd, disappointed sort of face and I couldn't help but laugh.

"What?" I asked. He made the face once more and I giggled.

"Oh, no. I see how it is," he mock-huffed, crossing his arms and turning away like a child.

"Shane," I sang, drawing the word out, throwing my arms around him playfully, pulling him towards me.

"Nope. Nah, bro. Don't even," he admonishes, but I hear the hint of a smile in his voice.

"Shane. You know you're part of the reason why."

Among curtains of hair, I could see the most adorable smile.

"Really?" I could definitely hear it in his voice.

"Really," I say, pushing the hair away from his face for a quick peck on the cheek. PDA technically wasn't permitted on the grounds.

A blush, and then a wider smile, and I can't help but feel that everything is perfect.