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"Are you in the mood for an adventure?"

Martina pops in the doorway of our room as I fold some laundry. Unlike me, she likes to change into non-workout-appropriate attire in the evening, clad in frayed black denim shorts and a cropped blouse. I look down at my track pants and white T-shirt.

"Does it involve looking presentable?"

"No, it involves eating," she says, propping herself against the doorway. "Unless you're still missing your appetite."

"Count me in." I chuck the rest of my clean laundry to the foot of my bed and grab a pair of sunglasses to somewhat elevate my outfit. "Wait...are you planning on leaving the camp?"

"No, only Adriana brought her car, and she'd have an aneurysm if I drove it by myself." I love how she doesn't mention we're technically required to stay on the premises for the entirety of these five weeks, but that shouldn't surprise me. "Come on, let's go."

We walk down the hallway, and she stops at the room in the middle. Poking her head in, she finds Aspen sprawled out on her bed upside down, watching a Netflix series on her phone. She jumps when Martina addresses her, clutching her chest.

I wonder how the two became friends; Aspen is so soft and timid, the opposite of the life of the party that Martina is. The only thing they have in common is they make me look so boring in comparison, with Martina's striking Mexican beauty and Aspen's head of perfect curls and smooth brown complexion.

"Where are you guys going?" she asks and hurries to the door. "Actually, you know what, I don't care. I'm so bored I've settled with binging the same series for the third time."

"Hey, don't bash re-watching shows," I say, remembering my only hobby from high school. "Do you happen to have any recommendations?"

We talk and laugh on our spontaneous trek across the camp to the central building. At first, I think Martina is going to suggest sneaking into the kitchen behind the dining hall, but then she pulls the two of us up a hidden glass staircase.

"Are we even allowed up here?" Aspen whispers, darting her eyes between the two of us.

"Up the stairs, yes," Martina says and stops at the last step. "The lounge... Well, time will tell."

"Wait, a lounge?"

So, first the luxurious trainer dorm and now a private lounge. Wow, might as well work here at this point.

"Let's just hope no one is in here," Martina mumbles and sneaks up to the door.

She slowly pushes it open, and the three of us peek inside, finding the room empty. It reminds me of an upscale airport lounge, with a couple white couches, some small tables, and large windows letting natural light in.

Then I see what Martina is really after: the mini fridges. She squats down and opens the one on the left, revealing three rows of cold drinks.

"Wait, is that coffee?" I peer closer and find an array of iced latte bottles, reawakening my subdued caffeine addiction. "God, pass me one."

"I could really go for a Coke," Aspen says, glancing behind her, "but I don't want to get in trouble."

"What are they gonna do? Kick us out?" Martina grabs the drinks and hands one to each of us. "Not when we're the ones funding these beverages, my friends."

"You're kinda right," Aspen says, cracking open the cap. "My parents paid way too much for me to drink grass smoothies every day."

We settle down on the couch closest to the door in case we have to bolt. Halfway through our drinks and a winding conversation about the camp's grossest foods, we hear a click of the door. Heart jumping out of my chest, I scramble to my feet, expecting the worst.

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