Page 2 of Pretty Prey

Through the thicket of trees, I spot a group of girls huddling around a picnic table. Great, I’m going to be neighbors for a whole week with some prissy little girls who probably don’t even know how to light a fire or pitch a tent.I wonder if the office would move them if I asked.

I try to listen to their conversation, but one of them pulls out a phone and starts blasting country music as they busy themselves doing something at the table. Annoyed, I head back into my camper for the night, wondering if I’ve made a huge mistake coming here for my birthday.

I turn on the TV and pop on a show about house remodeling, hoping it gives me some inspiration for my own home back in Maple Brook Falls. I’ve been designing it for a couple of years now, slowly gathering supplies on my plot of land Hunter signed over to me a couple of years back, when I helped him build his barn. I just haven’t had the time to dedicate to just that project and not knowing how big of a home I’ll need has me torn on the design.

Before long, I’m lost in the show and sketching out my dream kitchen, snacking on some beef jerky, and sipping a beer. The thundering sizzle of fireworks catches me off guard, causing me to spill my beer on my lap.

“Fuck.”

I quickly change into a pair of basketball shorts and dart out the door of the camper. I’m ready to rip into whatever idiot is setting off fireworks at eleven o’clock at night, when I realize it’s coming from the girl’s campsite next to mine. Of course, it would be them. These little girls have no idea what they are doing, and that it’s way past quiet time per the campground’s rules.

The giggles and low screams bouncing off the trees sound familiar.It can’t be.There’s no way in hell she’s here. I slip onmy boots I left next to the step and grab my flashlight off my little outside table next to my door.

Curiosity gets the better of me. I must know if it’s her or not, or if I’m losing my goddamn mind. I know this campground like the back of my hand, so getting around without being detected is a piece of cake. My first move is to make my way behind their tents without making too much noise and drawing attention to myself.

The flashlight in my pocket weighs down my shorts as I delicately step around some downed branches. The glow of their fire and a lantern is the only guiding light. My heart hammers with each step I make towards their tent line. A firework shoots into the sky, illuminating the trees and campsite in a red tint. My gut instinct is to dart behind a tree to conceal my presence, but I realize they’re too distracted looking up into the sky to notice me creeping up on them.

I’m shielded by a little red tent, hardly big enough for one person to lie down in. The top of the tent keeps me covered as I listen to the group chat.

“Are you going to be glued to that thing all week long?” A nasally girl asks.

“She cannot hear you. She has those earbuds in. I think she only has to get that essay done, so hopefully not. Now let’s make some s’mores. I’m starving.”

The group cheers ‘s’mores’ for a solid three minutes, clearly not giving any fucks about the campground quiet time restrictions. When I finally make my move to peek over the top of the tent, I can’t see who these girls really are. All their backs are to me as they crowd back around their picnic table, jabbing marshmallows onto sticks.

I could sit here and wait until I can find out what I want like a creep waiting in the night, or I can go back to my site and jerkoff to the thought of who might be on the other side of the tree line.

“You have all week,” I whisper, trying to convince myself that I don’t need to know right fucking now.

His Prey

CHAPTER 3

My bladder aches as I roll over in my sleeping bag, wishing I didn’t have to pee this early in the morning. As a Girl Scout, you’re taught to never go anywhere alone when camping, that even means the bathroom. The other girls stayed up later than I did. I was exhausted after driving that whole trip, but also from working on my essay.

The sound of chirping birds fills the tent, along with dim sunlight. I dig under my pillow for my cell to check the time. It’s only five in the morning. There’s no way in hell any of the others are up yet. I guess I’m going to have to make this trip to the bathroom on my own. I quickly shimmy out of my sleeping bag, wishing I hadn’t changed into shorts last night because the cold air hits me, making me have to pee even more.

The sound of the zipper on the tent slices through the campsite. I glance around at the other tents hoping I didn’t startle anyone awake. My bare toes curl into my flip-flops with each step I take on the gravel road. I silently wish to myself that I had packed a pair of boots, and not just sandals and a pair of Converse.

My stomach heaves as I reach the bathroom, the smell catching me off guard. Normally by this time in the morning the bathrooms and showers are clean because of routine cleanings. I guess this place isn’t as strict in their cleaning schedule.

When I get back to the campsite, I look for more twigs to use as kindling and some paper, so I can start the fire and get warm. It may be seventy-five during the day, but right now it feels like it’s hardly fifty and my legs are covered in little goosebumps.

It's not long before I’m fanning the fire, praying to the fire gods that the larger log catches before all the smaller stuff burns, and I must start over. The log ignites slowly, drowning in an orange glow.

Thank goodness!

The rising sunlight glints off something through the woods. I squint because I haven’t put my contacts in yet.What in the world is that?My curiosity is piqued when I get a glimpse of what I believe is a truck I recognize. It can’t be… Can it?

I tiptoe behind my tent, sneaking through the tree line. If I were smart, I would go back to my fire and make myself a cup of coffee, but clearly, I have no sense of self-preservation.

Before I can cross the row of trees, the camper door swings open. I dart back to my site, not giving a shit if I sound like a bear fumbling through the branches. My mind races as I fumble my way back to the campfire, hoping I wasn’t too loud. Hopefully I didn’t draw unwanted attention to myself. I never said I was stealthy or all that coordinated.

Was I seeing things? Was thathistruck?No way.We’re literally twelve hours away from home. I’m on autopilot as I dig through a plastic tote for the water kettle. I need coffee to calm down and focus on what’s important, and not my depraved fantasies.

A shuffling sound startles me, but I quickly realize it’s Annie rustling her tent zipper, trying to get it open. Her head pops out, showing me a mess of brown curls and rosy cheeks.

“Good morning, Sunshine,” she lets out a low grumble as she trips on the flap of the tent, nearly falling right on her face.