Total pages in book: 31
Estimated words: 30148 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 151(@200wpm)___ 121(@250wpm)___ 100(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 30148 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 151(@200wpm)___ 121(@250wpm)___ 100(@300wpm)
“Stop.” I leaned down and touched her right shoulder. My fingers met warm skin, even through her sweatshirt. “You’re beautiful, and anyone who tells you differently is both an idiot and an asshole we should feed to that rabid raccoon we met earlier, all right?”
Her head slowly lifted, and her eyes met mine.
Hazel’s parted lips were a temptation I couldn’t afford. They beckoned, made me want to brush my thumb across them, and tell her just how stunning she really was. But the words died in my throat. I shouldn’t. I couldn’t. I wasn’t even sorry for all the above reasons. I’d be messing with her emotions, and she’d be leaving anyway. What good was it to tell her I was attracted to her or that she had way more value than she could ever possibly know? Hell, half my friends had been in love with her in high school. It was the girls who had been the issue, the jealousy, the constant putting her down. And it didn’t help that my popularity had been more important to me than almost anything at the time. Before Mom got sick, I’d been such a selfish prick. I didn’t blame Hazel for hating me; I would have hated me, too.
There were so many conversations and words that should have taken place with that girl and her parted lips and large brown eyes, but I’d buried them. Ha. Ironic since we’d just done that, and I had a shovel by my foot.
“I, um…” She pointed behind her. “I should go get some hand sanitizer and clean up the campsite before it starts raining harder.”
“Yeah.” I nodded. “Last thing we need is for you to get wet.”
She tripped over a rock and almost faceplanted into the tent.
“You okay?” I reached for her, but she was already up dusting the sand from her leggings.
“Totally!”
“Why are you yelling?”
“Rain. The rain.” She sniffled. There was no thunder, no lightning, only a light drizzle that wasn’t at all loud. “It threw me off.”
I nodded slowly. “Yes, I can see how the storm could do that to a person.”
“Right?” She moved around the campsite, organizing the rest of our belongings while I stoked the fire and went into the Jeep to grab some extra blankets.
Damn. It was going to be tight in that little tent, and it was starting to rain harder. Maybe staying in the vehicle would be smarter, but it would be so uncomfortable and not warm at all. Besides, I could stoke the fire a bit longer and we could feed off that heat.
“All right.” I cleared my throat and awkwardly pointed at the tent with both hands as if to say, “Your honeymoon suite awaits.”
All I needed was a tux and a rose dangling out of my mouth like an idiot. And why the hell was I still pointing with both hands? Where did I even put my hands? In my pockets? I imagined if you were watching me on TV, you’d be like…that poor, pathetic bastard.
“Yeah.” She bit her lower lip again. Stop it, damn it. Stop it. Stop it right now. “I’ll just follow your lead.”
Why did she use those words? Why, God? Why?
“Sure,” I agreed. “I’m just going to kick off my shoes and hop in. The fire should be good for the next hour or so, but I’ll check on it if it really starts to get cold. Though the rain might end up putting out.” Her eyes widened. “Putting it out. I meant putting it out.”
“Oh, I know,” she said quickly. “Because it’s wet.”
Has there ever been a more awkward campfire moment? Tough to say, honestly, tough to say. There was that one time I ran around in my underwear when I was ten and hit a tree.
Pretty sure I would claim that over this moment any day.
Becoming one with bark.
“So…” I gulped. Why was I suddenly so awkward? “I’ll just get in there.”
God, please, someone tell me to stop talking. Why did everything feel like a sexual innuendo?
“I’m ready,” she answered brightly.
Maybe next time, we’d just use hand signals and save ourselves from the awkward misery of our own inability to speak.
“Yup.” Just going in. I crept inside the small tent and kicked off my boots, putting them right outside in case I needed to tend to the fire or go to my hole, which sounded off even in my brain.
She sat down just inside and took off her tennis shoes, setting them next to my boots, then scooted in, socks still on. I had the extra blankets on her side, the one pillow in the middle, and the sleeping bag open. It would be impossible to zip it, so we’d just have to pile on the blankets and lie down.
Together.
We had maybe three feet across at best and around eight feet to stretch out in.