Moral barometers regarding chicken and nothing else

I'm at a summer camp for competitive athletes. We're in the middle of our intramural games and I'm hot for a surfer already in a rocky relationship. But he likes me too, despite my shakiness while practicing for the tightrope competition. He seems shy and kind (this particular countenance reminds me of a certain poet I once thought hung the moon) and quite attracted to me. We must be together and we both know it. We casually agree to rendezvous back at the cabin before everyone gets back from practice. At some point, I remember having a boyfriend. But where is he? Can I call him? He's fuzzy and I can't remember...

The gang of campers arrives early. Lindsey naps on her cot wearing thick combat boots. I giggle at her for sleeping in her shoes. I ask what she thinks of desiring another while in a relationship. I could just not tell my boyfriend, right? Consequence and guilt are foreign but I can sense them in the distance. Anyway, it's too late. He comes back and we're surrounded by people. He offers me a chicken nugget and I tell him I don't eat those.

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