The plan tonight is for dinner and Clyde’s and then for everyone to crash at the house Leo’s brother and bandmates have rented in town. Nonetheless every parent has stopped by our room to offer to pick us up more than once. More than twice.
“Mom!” Stevie says from the floor as I sit down on the bed and rifle through the bag. “That’s sonice!”
“That’s Stevie’s personal prosecco.” Sasha nods at the bottle next to my sister’s knee that she’s been using to top off her glass whenever it runs low.
“Be sure to get some food in her,” our mom says as she perches on the bed next to me.
“Oh, I don’t think we’ll need to worry about that.” I pull a bulk box of granola bars out of the bag, unearthing the largest bottle of ibuprofen I’ve ever laid eyes on. “What do you think we’redoingtonight?”
“Enjoying yourselves,” she says, pulling me into her and rubbing my arm. I burrow closer—maybe a result of the two spritzes I’ve had, but maybe because she’s packed us a bag full of snacks and Gatorade like we’re a crew of tipsy toddlers off to soccer practice.
While Stevie finishes up Sasha’s glitter, I take the tote bag out to Ren’s car, where we’ve been packing everyone’s bags for tonight because it has the most space. I open one of the doors to the back seat, rummaging around for a spot, because apparently we’ve packed enough to spend an entire week in town. My body is leaned into the car, toes just on the ground, when I feel someone behind me.
“You all good in there?”
My heart jumps into my throat at the sound of Ren’s voice. I slide out of the back seat, smooth my hands over my red dress as I straighten. We haven’t been alone since this morning.
“Hey,” I say.
“Hey.” He nods toward where I’ve left the bag balanced precariously on top of Leo’s backpack. “I can put that in the back.”
I watch as he reaches inside, heaves the packed bag out, brow creasing as he glances at its contents. “I know,” I say. “It’s ridiculous.” I follow him to the back of the car, prop myself against the bumper as he sets the bag in the trunk, then joins me.
“How was kayaking?” he asks. His arms flex as he crosses them over his chest, my eyes dropping to where his palms rest against his biceps.
All I can think about is his hand in mine this morning, the gentle pressure of it, and how much I want to feel it again.
I try to ignore the way his proximity is impacting me. “Went over some pretty gnarly rapids. Flipped twice.” I look back up at him as I say it, eyes on the spot by his mouth where that crease deepens as he laughs. “It was very mellow. Stevie didtechnicallyflip her kayak three times, but she wasn’t actually in it yet.”
“Stevie, the outdoorswoman?” Ren asks in jest.
I point a finger at him. “She told you too? I thought she was keeping it on the down-low until the wilderness bureau sent her the commemorative plaque.”
“Stevie Miller, Queen of the River,” Ren says.
“Stevie Miller, Queen of the Natural World,” I amend, forming a marquee with my hands.
“Ceremony forthcoming. Top of Mount Hood.”
I laugh, settling farther against the car. “How was football?”
“Football was fine,” he says, rubbing at his palm with his thumb like he’s trying to find something to do with his hands. Like I’m not the only one thinking about this morning, or last night.
“Ren!” We poke our heads around the car to see Sasha hanging half out the front door of the house. “Do you have Stevie’s bag?”
“Leo brought it out!” he calls back.
Sasha lets out a sound that’s half exasperation, half relief. “We’ll be out in two seconds!” she yells. “Stevie!” I hear her shout as she recedes back into the house. “Your husband took it out there!”
“Her husband,” Ren says, voice low. “First time I’ve heard someone call Leo that.”
“Hey,” I say, elbowing him. “If you let your friend screw my little sister over…”
Ren’s eyebrow arches. “Are we about to have the talk?” he asks, angling toward me.
I laugh. “I wouldn’t know how to give the talk.”
“Here, practice on me,” Ren says. “If I let Leo screw Stevie over, you’ll what?”
