I’m fine, and I’d do it again if I had to.
Nate the Great
Are you driving back tonight?
First thing in the morning. I didn’t know if the roads would be safe, so I booked a hotel. It has a 2.5 star rating, and a review mentioned rat droppings in the bathtub. Can’t wait to see what’s under my bed.
Coop There It Is
Text us when you’re headed back tomorrow.
Sure thing, babycakes.
Nate the Great
I thought we agreed on no pet names in the group chat.
YOU agreed to that. I didn’t agree to shit.
Coop There It Is
Majority rules. Sorry, buttercup.
Nate the Great
I’m removing myself from this chat.
Bye, sweet cheeks.
Nate the Great
I liked you better when you lived in New York.
We take our time walking back to our cars after Claudia passes through and find them free from damage. I grab a towel from my trunk, running it through my hair and over my face.
“You’re freaking me out.” Quincy lifts her tripod off the muddy ground and wipes the legs clean. “Is your mouth broken? Why are you smiling so much?”
“This is, unfortunately, just my face.” I drape the towel over my shoulder and stretch my arms above my head, groaning when my back pops. A deep massage sounds like heaven right now. So does a different pair of shoes. I stopped feeling my toes around three in the afternoon, and it’s getting dark now. “And I’m smiling because today was a good day.”
The best I’ve had in months, actually, but I don’t want to admit that out loud. I’m afraid that if I put words to it, it’ll be taken from me. It’ll be snatched away the second I’m finally having fun at work and not putting any pressure on myself.
It’s been goddamn ages since that’s happened.
“It was pretty good, wasn’t it?” She leans against her trunk, a foot propped against the bumper. “You weren’t the worst person to chase a hurricane with.”
“Thank you for your generosity, Monroe.” I offer her the towel, and she shakes her head. “Do you know what time it is?”
“Are we going to upload our footage to social media? Start the drive home?”
“Nope.” I tap the strap of her backpack, grinning. “Let me see the goggles, Pres.”
“Dammit.” Quincy groans, head dropped back and staring up at the sky. “I thought you might’ve forgotten about that.”
“Only thing that kept me going, to be honest.”
“I probably shouldn’t tell you I also keep a helmet in my car.” She sighs and slips the bag off her arm. She crouches down,riffling through supplies I saw earlier when I was searching for rope. A water bottle lands on the ground. So does the first aid kit she mentioned and a small whistle. “You’re going to want me to play dress-up.”
“Ahelmet?”
