**Harold's POV – Right after Dodgebrawl ended**
We won. Somehow, against all logic and every single expectation in this cursed camp, we actually won.
I was the last one standing in that final round. Me. Harold Norbert Cheever Doris McGrady. The guy who usually gets flattened by the first ball before he even finishes adjusting his glasses. But yesterday something just... clicked. I saw the trajectories. I felt the timing. I dodged left when Owen threw high. I ducked when Eva aimed low. I sidestepped Tyler's wild lob. And then I threw — not hard, not angry, just precise. The foam ball hit Owen square in the stomach. He doubled over, gasping, theatrical as always. And the whistle blew.
MVP. Me.
The Killer Bass exploded. Duncan —
*Duncan* — slapped my back so hard I almost face-planted into the dirt.
Duncan: "Nerd! You actually carried us! I'm impressed. Don't let it go to your head."
Eva gave me the rarest thing she ever gives: a single nod of approval. Tyler fist-bumped me so enthusiastically my glasses slid down my nose. Bridgette smiled that soft surfer smile and said, "Nice job, Harold." Geoff yelled "Legend!" and Katie & Sadie squealed in unison like I just scored the winning touchdown in a championship game.
And Izzy... Izzy launched herself at me like a caffeinated koala, legs wrapped around my waist, arms around my neck, screaming directly into my ear.
Izzy: "Harold! You're the king! I told you! I told everyone! You're the leader tomorrow! No take-backs!"
I laughed — nervously, breathlessly — while trying not to fall over.
Harold: "Tomorrow? What's tomorrow?"
Izzy (still hanging off me): "Doesn't matter! You won us immunity! You're the boss now! I'm your right-hand chaos gremlin!"
Duncan laughed from the sideline, shaking his head.
Duncan: "Fine. The dweeb carried us. Enjoy your fifteen minutes, Harold."
I went back to the cabin with my heart hammering — not just from the win, but from the notebook still hidden under my pillow.
Last night, after the campfire silence swallowed Noah's exit, I couldn't sleep. So I wrote. Haiku after haiku. All for her.
Leshawna.
I didn't plan to show anyone. Ever. They were too raw. Too desperate. Too... honest.
Some of them:
Your hips call like sin
Lips promise sweet destruction
I'd burn for one taste
Skin like hot honey
Thighs that crush all resistance
Let me worship there
Eyes hold midnight fire
One touch and I'm on my knees
Take me, own me, now
Your laugh cracks my ribs
Body moves like liquid flame
I'm already ash
Breath against my neck
Fingers trace paths I can't survive
Ruin me, please, now
I folded them, hid them, swore I'd burn the notebook before anyone saw.
I was wrong.
**Ezekiel's POV – Afternoon near the Bass cabin**
I was just walking. Trying to clear my head after yesterday. Noah's story still sat heavy in my chest — the hospital, the nightmares, the way his voice cracked when he said "I can't". I kept thinking about how I pushed him. How we all pushed him. And how it didn't matter in the end.
Then I saw it.
A folded paper on the dirt path right outside the Bass boys' cabin. Harold's neat, slightly slanted handwriting on the visible edge.
I picked it up.
Opened it.
Read.
Your hips call like sin
Lips promise sweet destruction
I'd burn for one taste
My face instantly felt like it caught fire. Then I flipped it over.
Skin like hot honey
Thighs that crush all resistance
Let me worship there
Eyes hold midnight fire
One touch and I'm on my knees
Take me, own me, now
These weren't just poems. They were... intense. Romantic. Spicy. The kind of words that make your throat dry and your pulse loud. ❤️🔥
I looked around. No one nearby.
Then I saw her — Leshawna, sitting on a log near the Gophers girls' cabin, braiding her hair.
I walked over before I could talk myself out of it.
Me: "Leshawna… I, uh… found this. On the ground. It's Harold's handwriting. He wrote them. For you."
I held the paper out like it was a live grenade.
Leshawna took it slowly. Unfolded it. Read.
Her eyebrows climbed. Then her lips curved — slow, playful, dangerous, beautiful.
Leshawna: "Well, damn. These are… *very* good. Very spicy. Very romantic. Didn't know the little man had it in him."
She looked up at me, eyes sparkling with mischief.
Leshawna: "Thanks, Zeke. For bringing them to me."
Me (inside my head, panicking): *I just told her Harold wrote them. I slipped up. Badly. Hope he gets a yes. Hope he doesn't kill me.*
I managed a weak smile.
Me: "Yeah… uh… you're welcome."
Leshawna winked — slow, deliberate.
Leshawna: "Tell him I'm waiting."
Then she folded the paper, tucked it into her bra, and walked away like she owned the whole island.
I stood there for a solid ten seconds, heart hammering, thinking: *I am so dead if Harold finds out I spilled.*
**20 minutes later – Killer Bass boys' cabin**
Leshawna knocked on the door.
She had changed.
Black crop top — tight, low-cut, showing off every curve of her chest and stomach. Tiny pleated skirt — so short it barely covered anything when she moved. High heels that made her legs look endless. Hair loose and wild. Lips painted deep red. Hoop earrings catching the sunlight. She looked like trouble wrapped in sin.
Leshawna (calling through the door): "Send Harold out to me."
The door flew open. Duncan stood there.
He saw her.
His jaw literally dropped.
Duncan: "What the *fu*—"
Before he could finish, Izzy cackled from inside and shoved Harold forward.
Harold stumbled out, glasses crooked, face already turning crimson.
Harold: "L-Leshawna…?"
Leshawna smiled — slow, predatory, sweet.
Leshawna: "Come with me, poet."
She bent slightly, hooked one arm under his knees, the other around his back, and scooped him up like he weighed less than a pillow. Harold yelped, arms flailing for a second before he grabbed her shoulders.
Harold: "W-wait—!"
Leshawna just laughed — low, warm, dangerous — and carried him away toward the woods.
Duncan stood frozen in the doorway. Eyes wide. Mouth still open. Brain.exe has stopped working.
Behind him Geoff and DJ were already losing it.
Geoff (wheezing): "Dude… the *dweeb* got a girlfriend first. Beat every single one of us. I'm done. I'm actually done."
DJ (laughing so hard he had to lean on the wall): "Legendary. Legendary. I can't breathe."
Duncan still hadn't moved. Just stared after them, Leshawna carrying Harold like a bride over the threshold, Harold's legs dangling, face buried in her shoulder from embarrassment.
Geoff (still laughing): "Bro, you okay? Blink twice if you need help processing."
Duncan finally blinked. Slowly.
Duncan: "…the dweeb."
Geoff & DJ lost it again.
**Minutes later – Campfire**
The fire was low, warm. Stars sharp overhead.
Leshawna sat on a log. Harold beside her — still blushing, still dazed, but smiling like he couldn't believe this was real.
They watched the stars in silence for a while.
Harold (very quietly): "The haikus… you really got them?"
Leshawna turned to him, eyes soft but burning.
Leshawna: "Yeah. Zeke gave them to me. Slipped that you wrote them. They were beautiful. Spicy. Romantic as hell."
Harold's blush went nuclear.
Harold: "I… didn't know if you'd ever—"
Leshawna didn't let him finish.
She leaned in, slid one hand behind his neck, pulled him close, and kissed him.
Deep.
Tongue.
Full of heat, hunger, promise.
Harold froze for half a second — eyes wide — then melted. His hands found her waist. He kissed back — clumsy at first, then desperate, eager, like he'd been starving for this his whole life.
Leshawna smiled against his lips, then kissed him harder.
The stars watched. The fire crackled. And for once, Harold didn't feel like the dweeb.
He felt like hers.
To be continued…