DARE: I’M A LEGEND. ALSO DARE: CRIES OVER SPICY FOOD.
“Oh, here’s a good one—somebody asked when you decided to become a YouTuber.”
The transformation is instant and jarring. Color drains from Cam’s face, and she’s suddenly as pale as bleached bedsheets. I don’t get why the question hits her so hard, but my protective instincts surge.
“Actually,” I jump in, hand finding the small of her back, “Cam is an award-winning documentary filmmaker, and we’re super lucky she joined DareProductions. Someday Cam will leave us to go make important stories about people and causes that need her. But I hope that’s a long, long time from now.”
Cam’s eyes lock on to mine, and something vulnerable flickers.
The group loudly protests:
NEVER LEAVE, CAM!!!
NOOO, REECE NEEDS YOU!
DARESQUAD WON’T BE THE SAME.
“Don’t worry,” she says, forcing a small smile. “I’m not going anywhere…not yet.”
That last part? Yeah. Not a fan of that.
I want to dig deeper, but something catches her eye.
“Oh my God, wait until you see this!” She grabs the selfie stick and takes off toward a break in the trees.
I run after her, but she’s fast! All legs and restless energy, she kicks up dirt while her ponytail snaps like a flag in the breeze. Her laughter is a challenge, daring me to keep up. I whip into action, ready for the chase. We crash through the dense foliage, and—
Damn.
Standing at the cliff’s brink, the valley unfolds beneath us like a living painting—countless shades of green below mountains that pierce the clouds. The ocean stretches to infinity, a sheet of sapphire that bleeds into the horizon. There’s an absence of human interference—no buildings, no cars, not a hint of civilization. Pure, untamed paradise. It’s as if we’ve stepped into a hidden corner of the world.
She pans the camera with reverent slowness. “This is why they call Maui ‘The Valley Isle.’”
“It’s humbling, isn’t it?” I say, my voice rough with emotion. “Makes you feel small.”
“But in a good way, right?” she continues, her gaze drifting back to the horizon, “it’s like we’re all just tiny pixels in this massive, beautiful picture. When you zoom in, each pixel has its own story, its own purpose. And when we connect with others, our stories intertwine, creating something more beautiful and meaningful.”
I nod, taking in her words.
“It’s why I love making documentaries. Our lives are these intricate patterns, and every person we meet, every connection we make, adds a new thread to the tapestry. And even though we’re small, our impact is immense.”
Her philosophy hits me hard, stirring a sense of purpose and connection. In this vast, untouched oasis, yes the stunning view steals my breath, but even more, it’s her. The way she sees the world, the depth of her heart, and the quiet strength of her spirit. She’s a force of nature—as captivating as this vibrant, untamed landscape.
“I need you to know,” I say quietly, “there’s no way I could’ve managed these last few years without you. Even now, I… I’m glad you’re here.”
Cam’s eyes study my face, and I hold my breath, terrified of what I might be revealing. But I can’t look away. She stands framed by the sweeping vista behind her—a living metaphor of all the untapped possibilities she makes me believe in.
I’m flooded with emotion. It hits me.Could we make something work between us? Does she feel this too?This woman stayed by my side, offering support despite me being a complete jerk. Another truth slams into me: She’s more than someone I care about—she’s someone I trust.
And in my world of fake relationships, greedy users, and staged content, trust is rarer than authentic comments on YouTube.
“Actually, Reece,” she starts, her voice wavering slightly, “I’ve been meaning to ask you. I was um, hoping…”
No. She’s doing that thing… withdrawing… bottling herself up. I reach for her hand, wanting—needing—to help her through whatever this is. My fingers barely graze hers when—
“Blazey, slow down, you animal! You’re gonna drop me again!” Astrid’s voice shatters our bubble like a hammer through glass.
“Yo, we gotta see that waterfall—it’s gonna be so sick!” Blaze calls back.
