by Lindsey Hart
What happens in the tent stays in the tent.
What happened in the tent shall never be repeated in the tent. Or anywhere else.
“Are you okay?” Adam sets the metal flipper back on the stove. His eyes crease with worry.
“Yeah. Sorry, it’s early.” That’s the best I can do to change the subject.
“Yeah. It’s six. Our schedules are all messed up—sleep schedules, that is.”
“Mmhmm.” I stand there lamely, for once not knowing what to say or what I should do with myself. It feels strange, him making breakfast.
I finally decide I can set the table, but that just takes a few seconds. Adam pours me a cup of coffee while I’m setting out the plates and forks, and I take it and sit down in front of my empty plate.
“I’d like to treat you,” Adam says as he scrapes the eggs across the pan, his back turned.
I inhale sharply. What the heck does that mean? Treat me? Treat me to what? The one and only thing I’d like to be treated to is his—Jesus. What is wrong with me? For the love of marshmallows, that’s just perverse.
Whatever. We all want what we can’t have.
Shut up, annoying internal, devil voice.
“Treat me?” I echo, partly to banish whatever evil urges I have inside, partly because I can’t believe I actually heard him right.
“Think of something fun to do. I think you’ve earned it.”
“If anyone’s earned it, it’s you. How’s your head wound today?”
“Better. Tender after the shower, but better. The burn is pretty much gone.”
“I see that.” It makes me sound like I checked him out, so I quickly try and rectify it, which probably only sounds worse. “I mean, I can see that. It looks good. And, uh, not so painful anymore.”
“The gel really helped. I got some rest, slept through the night, woke up super early this morning, went for a walk, bought some food stuff, had a shower, and decided to try and look up how to cook this online. It smells edible.”
“You’re doing a great job. The coffee tastes amazing.”
“That one isn’t hard. I know how to make coffee. I’m just out of practice with everything else.”
“You should take some classes.”
“Yes, so you’ve said. It’s a good idea. Start with the basics and then try something more gourmet. I might actually like it. I could use a few hobbies. Anyway, back to treating you, and yes, you’re always the one looking after me. At work, and out of it, too. And don’t say it’s your job even if it is, because that’s a shitty thing to say.”
“I…alright.” I sip my coffee. It’s dark, slightly spicy, and oh so good. With every swallow, I can literally feel myself reviving after a sleepless night and a night with too much sleep. Yay for caffeine! “I’m not sure what to pick. I don’t even know what there is to do here. I thought more about enduring it than actually enjoying it.”
“I know, which is why I thought of a few things. Things like boating, fishing, swimming, jet-skiing, horseback riding, kayaking, and mountain biking.”
Those all sound like terrible options to me. None of them is the spa, relaxing on a patio somewhere, kicking back with a drink, shopping, going to this market or that, taking some kind of class, doing something crafty, lounging in my back yard (we already tried that on the beach with obviously disastrous results), or working on my house. That’s pretty much the extent of my life at the moment.
Clearly, I don’t do outdoorsy things. Sure, I keep active, but in different ways, like fitness classes. Occasionally, I go to indoor gyms when I find one I can stand. Or yoga, pilates, and normal shit.
“I don’t know how to do any of those things.” I’m not embarrassed to admit it. Look where hiking got us, and by us, I mean Adam’s forehead and my feet.
“I thought jet-skiing might be fun, and they don’t take much effort. I’ve done it before. They’re enjoyable. Plus, if you’re not comfortable driving, we could ride together.”
“You’ve done it before?”
“I have.”
“For the boating thing, you don’t have to have some kind of boater’s license or operator’s card or whatever?”
Adam shrugs, which means you probably do. “Not out here is my best guess.”
“Which means they’ll look the other way? Which means it’s not very safe.”
“If you’re not comfortable, we could rent a kayak.”
That seems like a lot of paddling to me. I can just imagine how my shoulders, back, and neck will feel after that. I’ll probably do something stupid like tip it or whack Adam in the head with a paddle, assuming we’d be renting a two-seater, or get stranded somewhere out in the lake. It seems like a terrible idea, and it’s probably hot out. We’d be cooking out there all day. I’m sure that’s not good for Adam’s burn at the moment. Plus, I just think it would suck.
I’m not sure what other kinds of boating there is. I’ve actually tried horseback riding before, and I didn’t like it because it was slow, and you couldn’t really do anything since it was so touristy. Mountain biking sounds like hiking—an absolute disaster. Fishing seems like a good way to embarrass myself thoroughly or get a hook in the face. Or worse, hook Adam or someone else. That’s a big no for me. I’m embarrassingly citified.
In comparison, the jet skis sound fun, a little bit adventurous, slightly edgy, and super fast. Something I’ve never tried before. I could always ride, then I wouldn’t even have to figure out how to run the thing.
I’m honestly just glad Adam seems to have abandoned the idea of finding his ex-wife altogether. I haven’t heard him gripe about proving anything in a whole day, which is nice. I’d like to think I had something to do with it, and I mean more than just our little buzzed makeout session in the tent.
Adam switches off the burner and plates the food. He brings it over to the table and sets one down in front of me. “Dig in.”
I inhale deeply, and it smells amazing. The food actually looks amazing.
This is the first breakfast someone has made me in…in…I don’t even know how long—a long time. I’m not sure anyone other than my mom ever has made me a meal, restaurants not included.
I take a bite of the bacon, which is just right. Not fatty and undercooked and not so crispy and burnt that it shatters. The eggs are just as delicious.
“If you’re half as good at jet skis as you are at making this, we should be all set.”
Adam gives me a secret sort of smile. He looks pleased. No, not pleased, not smug, and not look at me, I accomplished something monumental, but just pleasantly satisfied with himself. With his new, very deep tan, set off with the plaid shirt, and his hair swept back off his forehead, he seems to be glowing—glowing with happiness. And it’s a new look for him—that unbridled, raw emotion.
It suits him.
It looks good on him.
Irresistibly good, but resist, I must. For as long as I choose to work for him, I must resist. I have no plans on changing jobs, so as of right now, that’s years, if not decades. Assuming I don’t get fired, but I already know that would never happen.
Is it fucked up that we work so well together, we actually have some chemistry, and we’re purposely turning it down and permanently sidelining it because it’s the ‘adult’ thing to do? The mature, professional, ‘right’ thing?
I don’t know.
I wasn’t expecting this.
I thought we were just camping and maybe faking a few things, which I doubted would even be needed, since I very much doubted we’d ever run into the other Stephanie. No added bonuses until I got paid the ten grand to fix my roof. That’s what I expected, obviously.
How did things get so off track?
No matter how hard it might be to operate the jet ski thing, it has to be less complicated than trying to sort through this. Certainly, no matter how dangerous they are, they’re less so than messy, runaway emotions. Of course, as I chew one of the best bacon I’ve ever had in my life and shovel in eggs like there�
��s no tomorrow, I choose to think about the day’s activities instead.
CHAPTER 14
Adam
The campground is nestled on a large lake, and the marina isn’t far from the cabins and beach area. It’s tiny, with a small building for renting out paddleboards, kayaks, paddleboats, and canoes, and a larger brown building that handles the boat and jet ski rentals. There’s a system of docks, both a public one for boats coming in and out of the lake and a private one that’s solely for the use of rentals. The public boat launch is busy, with boats coming and going. The parking lot off to the right is huge, and it’s almost totally packed.
Steph gives me a half challenging, half fearful look as we walk into the building that sits just about right on the lake. The docks run past it, and there are all different kinds of boats and jet skis tied there. The building itself is just a wooden structure, old but not dilapidated, with a concrete floor. There’s nothing in the way of niceties inside. Just a counter at the back with two younger guys—probably in their early twenties or even late teens—working behind it.
They’re both dressed in matching forest green ball caps and t-shirts with the park’s logo of four animals on both.
One of them leans on the counter. He’s tall, so he looks gangly doing it, while the other eyes us from whatever he was just writing down. There are signs on the walls behind the desk, charts with the daily boat rental rates, the charge for gas, and all the other things you have to pay for, as well as another with the safety requirements and regulations.
“I’d like to rent two jet skis for a few hours.”
“Right.” The younger, ganglier kid shoves two clipboards at me. “Just fill those out. It’s a hundred dollars an hour.”
“Okay, thanks.”
I take the forms, passing one clipboard over to Steph. She’s still wearing the same shorts and tank she had on this morning, but I know she put her bathing suit on below. I’m wearing a long-sleeved shirt and shorts since I want to cover up as much as possible so the sun can’t sizzle me into a crisp again. It was bad enough yesterday, and it still hurts a little even if it looks better. I don’t want to repeat the experience today. Or tomorrow. Or ever.
“I don’t know how to fill this out,” Steph whispers, indicating the form. “It asks if I have previous boating experience, which of course I don’t.”
“Then put no. Just fill it out honestly. If there’s something we need, I’ll get it.”
“Like a boater’s license.”
“It doesn’t say anything about that.”
“Hmm, alright. They’re going to laugh.” She eyes the guys behind the counter who are doing their best to pretend like they’re not watching us. “At me. When I go to start it, it’s going to be so obvious that I don’t know what I’m doing.”
“I’ll explain everything. It’s fine that you don’t know. Lots of people who haven’t been on them before probably come to rent them. Don’t worry.”
“I hate looking stupid.”
“Me too, but somehow, I manage to roll with the punches. Or head gashes and sunburns.”
She sighs. “Fine.” Her pen scratches over the form. Then she shoves it back at me. “I’m done.”
“For someone who picked this as a fun activity, you don’t seem like you’re enthusiastic about it or that you’re going to even try to enjoy it.”
“I’m only doing it because you said they’re awesome, and after a few minutes, I’ll relax and have a good time.”
“There you go. Am I ever wrong?”
“All the time.” She walks over to stand at the window overlooking the docks. She crosses her arm and taps her toes.
I finish with the rest of my form and pass both of them back to the guy at the counter. He doesn’t say anything about a license or even really look at the forms. I noticed there was a waiver attached, so that’s likely the most important part. If anything happens to us on those jet skis, at least we can’t sue.
“Great, I just need payment.”
I pass over my credit card. One swipe, a signature, and four hundred dollars later, we’re ready to go. I get two keys and two lifejackets. We don’t get asked what size, but they’re good quality lifejackets—the ones people use for water sports. The guy shuffles over to the window and points at a yellow and green machine and a black and orange one.
“Those two alright?”
“Sure.”
“Any problems, just come back and let me know.” The guy frowns at himself. “Shit. I forgot to ask about insurance. You want insurance?”
“I, uh, the lake isn’t rocky, is it?”
“There are some reefs here and there, but not around here. Stay out of the main parts, and you’ll be fine.”
“We should be able to manage.”
“Okay. I just need to give you the form that says you declined the insurance. You wreck the machine, it’s on you to pay for it.”
“Maybe we should take it,” Steph says without turning away from the window.
With our luck, we probably should. “How much is it?”
“For two machines, it would be about two hundred dollars.”
“That’s almost the same cost as it is to ride them!” Steph gasps.
“I think we’ll be okay.”
I sign the guy’s form declining the insurance, then pass Steph her lifejacket. We head out the door together and round the corner to the docks. They’re expensive and well made, kept up such that they’re not splintery, spidery, or slippery.
“You ready?” I point to the orange and black. “They’re the same, but I think that one suits you.”
“Why?” Steph asks suspiciously. “Because that one doesn’t work or it’s a death machine or what?”
“No tricks. And come on. I wouldn’t give you the bad one if there even was a bad one, which there isn’t. They’re brand new, and you can tell they’re well maintained. Look at how clean they are. They have to keep them up if they’re going to rent them. They don’t want to have to go pick stranded people up on the lake because the jet ski failed. They’d probably have to refund their money or deal with a pissed off customer.”
“If this thing stranded me or tipped or something, I’d be pissed off too.”
I hand over the key. It’s on a stretchy red band that wraps around the wrist, so if someone falls off, the key just pulls out with them to stop the machine. After I explain all that and tell Steph how to start the machine and how to get it going, which is as simple as pressing the start button and just squeezing the throttle harder or not so hard to go fast or slow, I hold the edge of the jet ski so she can climb on.
“Should I take these off?” She sweeps a hand down her clothes. “Are we going to get wet?”
“We’ll get wet, but it’s up to you. I’m leaving mine on.”
“Okay. I’ll leave mine on too. It’s alright if they get wet. But how wet? We’re not going to dump over, are we? It looks tippy.”
“It’s not that bad. It feels strange at first, but you’ll get the hang of it within a few minutes.”
“I seriously hope so.”
“There’s nothing I’ve ever seen you not be able to handle.”
Steph gives me a strange look. Neither of us brought our phones, and I only brought my wallet to pay. It’s secured in the back pocket of my shorts. She doesn’t have anything to tuck in the jet ski’s front compartment, so she gives it one last dubious look and steps on. The jet ski immediately rocks a little, and she lets out a little cry. She doesn’t leap off, though. She just sits down hard enough to make it rock again.
“Argh! I already hate it!”
“Just give it a chance.” I hand over the key. “Put that on your wrist. If anything happens, the key comes right out, and the jet ski stops.”
“You mean if I fall off.”
“Yes, but I don’t see why you would. I’ve done some pretty crazy circles on these and gone pretty fast, and I haven’t gone flying yet.”
“Yeah, well, there’s a first time
for everything. You should have gotten the insurance even though it was expensive. I can’t imagine how much these things cost to replace.”
“We can’t really do any damage unless we hit a rock, and they said there aren’t any around here. Relax. And we’d only have to pay for the damage, not replace it.”
“What if it sunk to the bottom of the lake?”
“That would be very unlikely, if not impossible.”
Steph presses her lips together hard, but she slips the key strap around her wrist and puts it into the machine. I untether her slowly, and she starts to float away. She doesn’t panic, and she just does what I told her to. She hits the start button, and the jet ski starts idling.
“Just let it idle out into the open part past the docks before you give it any gas. Just steer.”
“It’s hard to steer!” Steph cries.
“It won’t be once we get going. Let me get on mine, and you can follow me out.”
“I think we’re going to die.”
“I think if that was going to happen, it would have happened already.”
“You’re probably right.”
I take that as a vote of confidence, and I get on my machine and idle out past the docks and other boats and jet skis. Steph follows me, trailing far enough behind that there’s no danger of us knocking into each other. I go slow when I give the jet ski any gas, and Steph follows. Once we’re out into the open area, with nothing around to hit, I can’t help myself. I give it more gas and do a couple of spins. The jet ski has a ton of power. It pulls at my arm and shoulder muscles to keep it under control, and I manage to soak myself, but I never felt like I was going to fall off. I idle up to Steph after.
“Show off,” she mutters.
I grin. “You could do it too. It’s actually quite fun.”
“No! Never!”
“Well, should we ski around for a bit? You can follow me.”
“Do I have any other choice?”
“Not really. We have these things for two hours.”