Page 79 of In Your Wake

“Ugh, fine. Take the tent.” He strolls off toward his tent that’s tucked away behind some trees in a tiny clearing.

I should be pleased, but something isn’t sitting right. I hurry after him and peek into his tent, seeing all his belongings neatly stacked in a corner. He’s already made up his bed with a pillow and a very fluffy, warm-looking sleeping bag.

Guilt churns in my stomach when I realize I’m being a child. Even though I shouldn’t have an issue with him sleeping in his car tonight, I don’t feel right hogging his tent.

“There’s space for two in here,” I say. “Why don’t you stay. I’ll bring my stuff.”

A deep frown overshadows his features. “No, really, it’s fine. I don’t mind taking the car.”

“Damn it, Mitch. We agreed we’d get along and I’m not usually this generous, so I suggest you accept it,” I snap, but make sure he sees my smile.

“Are you sure?” he asks and I can tell he’s thinking about the last time we shared a tent.

My cheeks flush at the unwelcome thought, and I tear my gaze away. “Yeah. Sure. It’s totally okay with me. Is it okay with you?”

His lips turn down at the corners. “Yep. Absolutely. Totally fine with me.” He runs a hand down his face, but it’s no use—I notice the twitch of his left eyebrow. “Cool. Great. So, we’re sharing a tent.”

“Looks like. I’ll go get my stuff.” With a nod, I quickly step out of the tent and remind myself not to overthink this.

We’re just sharing a tent. That’s it.

This is entirely about circumstance and generosity. It won’t turn into anything.

Nope. Nothing at all.

Once I’ve set my things up in Mitch’s tent, I go to leave, but notice that his inflatable mattress has deflated entirely. I check the plug, but it’s closed shut, which means there’s a hole somewhere.

“Crap,” I hiss, then step out.

I meet the group gathered by the fire, sitting in a circle of camp chairs. The only free seat is between Mitch and a cooler. I sit down, bumping my arm against his.

“Geez, why don’t you sit on me while you’re at it,” he teases.

“I’m sure you’d love that, wouldn’t you?” I tease right back, reflexively and then wince. “Bad news. Your mattress is flat.”

“Sure it is.” Mitch stares into the fire and doesn’t even lift his gaze to mine.

“No, I’m serious. I think it has a hole.”

He side-eyes me, then purses his lips. “You’re such a brat. Did you deflate it?”

“What? No! I didn’t even touch it!”

He scoffs. “Okay.”

I lean back in my seat, crossing my arms. “Go see for yourself if you don’t believe me. You probably put it on something pointy.”

He sighs, running his hands down his face, then slaps his thighs. “This day keeps getting better and better.”

“I’m sure there are patches in the box it came in.”

Annoyed, Mitch looks at me sideways, and I cringe.

“You don’t have the box,” I say.

“Nope. I guess you could give me your mattress, since I’m letting you share my tent.”

“Not happening. You’ll just have to sleep on the floor.”