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When a beat passes and I don’t respond, she turns to face me fully. “Elouise, are you holding out on me?”
“Well, if you’d actually slept in our tent last night, you’d know the answer to that.”
Rebecca grins, “Well look at you, being a rule breaker. But it’s all yours, I have Bob to keep me warm.”
I try not to pull a face.
Sensing my thoughts, she waggles her brows. “Moves, Elouise. He’s got mooooooves.”
“Ohmygod.” I cover my face with my hands. I don’t need that mental image seared into my brain.
“Speaking of,” Rebecca whispers, and I drop my hands in time to see Gym Teacher Bob approach.
A gust of wind whips through the small clearing, so I reach up with my free hand and pull my hat down further over my ears.
“Ladies,” he greets us both, but only has eyes for Rebecca. “Care to team up?”
Rebecca nods and Bob hands me a worksheet and pencil before walking off with the only friend I have here.
I resist the urge to sigh.
A couple of kids from my class walk past me, so I insert myself into their group and we make our way down the path around the lake. Every couple of minutes we come across one of those mounted placards featuring a photo of a plant, explaining appearance, smell, and where it commonly grows. Then there’s a second flap for you to lift that tells you whether or not it’s safe to eat, and we mark it off on our worksheets.
So far, I’ve learned that I’d probably rather starve than chance eating the wrong thing.
The kids are laughing and horsing around when we start down another path, which is why I don’t notice Creepy Dad Adam until he’s right next to me.
He’s just smiling at me, while attempting to match his stride with mine. I lift a hand in the most awkward wave, but keep walking, hoping he can take a hint.
“Sleep well?”
His question is so unexpected that I don’t know how to answer.
It feels like an inappropriate thing to ask, but really, it’s probably perfectly acceptable considering we’re a bunch of adults sleeping on the ground after all. I’m sure sleeping badly was the norm last night.
But there’s something about him that puts me on edge, so him asking how I slept feels very stalkery.
“I slept okay,” I shrug.
He chuckles and bumps his shoulder against mine, causing every hackle I have to rise.
I take a step to the side, putting some distance between us, and if he notices, he pretends not to.
I glance around, looking for his kid, “Where’s Ross?”
He waves away the question, “Off with his friends. I didn’t want to cramp his style.”
Oh, just my style then.
I make a sound of understanding and pick up my pace to stay with the group of kids ahead of us. This impromptu one-on-one time is making me all sorts of uncomfortable.
“So…” he starts.
And his tone has me quickening my pace even more. It sounds like he’s about to ask me out and holy hell please don’t let him do that. The answer would be no. Of-fucking-course it’d be no. But I can’t be rude about it. We’re here for another two nights!
“I was wondering-”
His words are cut off by a chorus of young voices yelling “Beckett!” and I’ve never been more thankful for an interruption in my life. Even if it means close proximity to my childhood crush.
