Page 58

Stella, the art teacher

The path to the lower loop is longer than I remember but more straightforward. Nowhere to get lost, which is good because my sense of direction has always been terrible and it’s fully nighttime now, a darkness that even perfect black can’t capture. I flap my hand in front of my face, just to prove to myself that it’s really that dark. Stupidly, I didn’t bring my headlamp. When I get to the lower camp, there are random bursts of light from different campsites. I have no idea where Travis’s tent is located.

“Help you?”

I spin around, toward the gruff voice. A headlamp momentarily blinds me. I shield my face, and he angles it down. He walks close enough that I can smell whiskey on his breath and weed on his clothes.

“Just heading to my tent.” I start to walk off.

“What number is it?” He’s at my heels, ready to pounce or maybe to help, it’s hard to tell in the dark, with his thick scent of inebriation and at least a foot of height towering above me.

“I’m fine, thanks.” I walk at the quickest pace I can without seeming afraid while praying I find Travis soon. There are always sketchy guys at campgrounds. It’s part of the experience. Usually, they keep to themselves.

“Want a hit?” This guy’s glued to my side, holding out a joint, its end glowing amber against the black night.

“I’m just looking for my boyfriend.” The word comes out as a lie. Even I can hear it. I’m too scared. Too vulnerable. I’m not surprised when my weakness emboldens him.

“Come chill with us. We’ve got E. And whiskey.”

“Really, I’m fine.” I walk past one site, then another. There are plenty of people hanging out outside their tents. Nothing can happen when there are so many campers around. That said, this guy is too persistent.

Suddenly, two more men appear at his heels. In my periphery, they swoop around him and encircle me. It’s too dark to make out the expressions on their faces as one of the other guys inches another glowing joint in my direction.

I take a few steps backward, away from him, which is toward the first man. They crowd me, making the beating in my chest intensify into a panic I can feel in my temples.

“You okay?” one of them asks. I don’t know which one. They are too close, and the smoke from the joint is cloying, the damp stench of their sweaty bodies permeating my skin. I can feel desire pulsating from them. None of the campers loitering outside their tents sense my unease, the imminent danger my entire body feels.

“There a problem?” another voice says. It’s as brusque and imposing as these men until I realize it’s Travis. The men loosen their circle around me. “Stell, you okay?”

“I’m fine,” I say in a shaky voice.

The light is spotty as the headlamps dance with abrupt movements. One of the lights jerks awkwardly as I hear “What the fuck, bro” when Travis pushes through them and envelops me in his warm and familiar body. Travis kisses my hair, whispers, “It’s okay. You’re okay,” as I realize I’m crying, not only because of these men but the parents. Cassie.

“Hey,” one of the guys says, his voice softer than before. Or maybe it was always soft. Maybe they really are just stoners who wanted to share their proffers. “Sorry if we scared you.”

“Why are you still talking?” Travis loosens his grip on me and motions toward the three guys, who have started to back away. “What, you think it’s funny, scaring a woman?”

With every step they retreat, Travis approaches.

“Dude, we were making sure she was cool. She seemed lost.”

“Here, take a hit, no hard feelings.” The glowing end of the joint floats through the darkness toward Travis. He bats it away. I watch it fall to the ground and spark, remembering that fires aren’t allowed on this island. I stare at the embers as they burn out, ignorant to what’s going on around me until I hear the men saying, “Chill, bro.” “Dude, relax.” “Calm down.”

Travis is nose to nose with them, pushing. When one of them falls and Travis looms over him, I snap back to the present.

“Travis,” I bark. Around us, other campers stand, spurred by the commotion. “Travis,” I reach for his arm. I pull, but he’s stronger than I am and doesn’t budge. I’ve never seen Travis like this. Two other campers approach us. I don’t understand what Travis is thinking, what he’ll do.

“Everything okay here?” one of the other campers asks. His voice is congenial. Grandfatherly. It manages to reach Travis, who steps back from the men and encloses me in his arms.

“We were just headed back to our tent.” Travis kisses my forehead. We walk away with everyone watching us.

“Aggro fuck,” I hear one of the guys say.

Travis flinches. I hold his waist tighter as we cross the trail to his tent, tucked away from the other campers. I can feel the tension in his body, animated and animalistic. I just need to get us to his tent, where we can shed our clothes and, with them, this anger that Travis is wearing. Because it’s not him. It’s not the gentle, passionate man who has never once lost his temper in the three months we’ve been dating.

“You okay?” Travis asks once we’re inside his tent. He pulls me onto his lap so I’m facing him. “Did I scare you?”

“No.” It sounds like a lie. It is a lie. I don’t want to lie to Travis. I climb off him and sit at his side, hugging my knees to my chest. “A little.”

“When I saw them surrounding you, I freaked out.”

Of course he did. I brush the hair from his forehead.

And then I remember the gummies Charles gave me.

“I have something.” I shift to reach into my back pocket and hold them out in my palm.

“Stella, Stella, Stella. Are you trying to get me fucked up and take advantage of me?”

“Maybe.”

He reaches down and lifts one of the gummies from my hand. I expect him to pop it into his mouth. Instead he whispers, “Open,” and slips it onto my tongue. I take the other and place it into his open mouth as he closes his lips around my finger and sucks on it. All the earlier tension disappears, and I can only think about how much I want him. I don’t have to think about it. I can’t think at all because our clothes are abandoned until we are bodies, carnal and slick with sweat. I feel the gummy come on, stronger than I expected. My mind swims as Travis is gentle with me, and soon everything is soupy and distilled and wonderous and I hear someone say “I love you,” then realize it’s me.

My body flinches. His does too. Instantly, I know I’ve messed up. He leans so his body looms above me, studying me. I feel all the heartbreak from before. He’s definitely not in love with you. I’m about to take it back, to blame it on the weed, when he says, “I love you too.”

We say it over and over as he presses into me, each thrust a promise. I love you. I love you. I love you. We’re panting and screaming. I think I hear our hearts cracking, but it’s the sky, thunder howling louder than our desire until the patter of rain against the tent drowns out any other sounds. We move our bodies to the rhythm of the storm, claiming it, making this island, its entire world ours.