Wild Like Us

by Ritchie, Krista

  I look back to Banks. “A naked kiss?”

  “Semi-naked.” The corner of his mouth hikes up. “It was innocent.”

  “How is a semi-naked kiss innocent?”

  “You want the details?”

  I give up on the A/C. “We have over a thousand miles for you to explain it to me. It’ll be harder for you to share than for me to hear.”

  Banks smiles. “You’re fooling yourself, man.”

  Maybe I am, but I’m not conceding. I brush a hand through my hair. “You’re not taking back that kind of kiss either, are you?”

  “Fuck no. Would you?”

  “No.” I would’ve loved to have a semi-naked kiss with Sulli. Maybe I’ll have more than that one day.

  We go silent for the umpteenth time.

  I wipe a trickle of sweat off my temple and roll down the window. Gusts of air blow in, but I’m still burning up.

  Sulli leans forward more. Her breasts rise with a deeper breath, “So what the fuck are we doing? What happens from here?”

  Banks and I exchange a tense look.

  I know what happens.

  He knows too.

  I rotate more to her. “It’s your choice, Sulli. We can’t tell you who you want to be with. But we both want to be with you.”

  “I have to pick?” Her voice pitches higher.

  I nod.

  Banks nods.

  Sulli grips the backs of our seats and stares down at the driver’s cup holder. “How can I make a choice like that right now? I literally just kissed you both, and it’s not like I’ve been dating either of you.”

  Banks assures her, “You don’t have to decide now.”

  I add, “You’re not exclusive with either of us. We can just be casually pursuing you until you’re ready.” She still looks confused, so I scrounge for a metaphor. “Like you’re the Bachelorette, and we’re just two handsome dudes vying for your heart—but one of us is clearly better looking.” I touch my chest.

  “You want Windex for those mirrors?” Banks asks, fitting a toothpick between his lips.

  I end up smiling. “Only so you can see me better.”

  Banks laughs, then tells Sulli, “One of us is clearly more humble.”

  I nod once.

  Sulli is lost in thought. Until she looks up. “So I just casually date you both like I’m the Bachelorette until I make a choice?”

  “Right,” I say.

  “What about the fantasy suites, Kits?”

  I stiffen.

  Banks frowns. “The what?” He’s never seen the dating show we’re discussing.

  I explain, “It’s where the bachelor or bachelorette spends the night with the guys or girls they’re dating. I think it’s at like final three, and it’s implied they have sex.”

  His brows spike. “The bachelor has sex with the last three women he’s dating? And they’re all okay with it?”

  “Yeah, pretty much.”

  Sulli is wide-eyed, her cheeks bright red. “Um…is that fucking happening or what are we…doing exactly?”

  My chest tightens, and I rub my knuckles. “I think we should probably make a clear rule so no one gets hurt.” I take a beat. “No fantasy suites. No sex until you choose one of us.”

  Banks nods. “I’m good with that.”

  “Yeah, me too,” Sulli eases. “It’s less fucking complicated.”

  Wisconsin farmland backdrops our drive. More fresh air whooshes into the car, rustling our hair and some loose gas receipts in the cup holder. Our set-decision should alleviate tension that’s been riding with us like a fourth passenger.

  But my flippant bachelorette metaphor doesn’t mask the seriousness of what’s happening. What we’re embarking upon. A road where I’m in competition with my friend.

  And one of us is going to be left heartbroken.

  17

  BANKS MORETTI

  Sweet, sweet Montana. Alas, we’ve finally made it to Yellowstone Country.

  Not that we see much in the dead of night. After parking Booger in a safe spot, we click on headlamps and hike to our backcountry campsite. A place much closer to the rock face Sulli plans to free-solo.

  We set-up camp.

  Working quietly, seamlessly—like the three of us have done this our whole lives together—we help each other pop up the teal tent, roll out the sleeping bags, and recheck our supplies. Through our exhaustion, we zip up the tent and start to pass out.

  Three different sleeping bags. Enough room not to test any kind of waters. Too tired to even overthink how I’m not on an easy path to be with Sulli.

  A miracle slams down to Earth to make that happen—because that’s all I’ve really been thinking about. How Akara and Sulli kissed. How I’m now competing for her affection against my best friend. Who also has history with Sulli that I don’t have.

  He’s known her for what feels like forever.

  How do I even compete with that?

  And I knew a scenario where Akara and Sulli getting together could eventually come to pass, but fuck me that it had to happen less than 24-hours after I kissed her. Bad luck.

  Bad at love. Throw out Roscoe, that should just be my middle name instead.

  If I were smarter, maybe I’d just back off and let Akara jog easily into her heart, so I wouldn’t be here pulling her in another direction. But if chasing after Sullivan Meadows is the foolish thing to do, I’m gonna be the biggest fool this world has ever seen.

  I’ve gotten this far. I’m not letting her go now. And whatever happens will happen.

  Come what may.

  It’s the thought I wake to.

  Exiting the tent, I stretch my arms and yawn up at the morning sky. With the break of day, my surroundings aren’t just muddled in darkness.

  So I look around while I rotate my sore shoulders. Spruce trees landscape lush, yellow-green grass, rolling into hills and valleys. Wildflowers grow near the bank of a lazy river. Which I heard trickling last night, but I thought it’d look more like a tiny stream.

  I go still.

  Three deer wander along the bank. Massive antlers crown the largest one. Head hoisting, beady eyes lie serene on me. Like I’m just part of the scenery.

  Another animal among animals.

  Wildlife is abundant here. Every which way, another woodland creature pops out. Hawks cut through the air. Chipmunks scurry beneath logs. Nothing that’d bother us if we don’t bother them. Though, I know the hierarchy in the animal kingdom, and I’d rather meet the peasants of Yellowstone.

  No grizzly bears. No packs of wolves. No buffalo.

  I’m not someone who really communes with nature. I grew up riding a bike through South Philly, not sniffing dandelions on a mountainside.

  The city has been my home.

  But I don’t mind the crisp air or lack of traffic noise. I just wish there wasn’t a fuckin’ symphony in my temple right now. The banging, the thumping, pounds dully but I know it’s gonna grow.

  While I ignore the incoming migraine, I detach a radio off my drawstring pants and glance deeper out.

  Mountains border the horizon. One cliff towers more closely and looms over our camp. That peak must be about ninety-meters high. 300-feet up.

  What a long way to fall.

  I unspool my radio cord, my muscles constricting the more I eye the sheer size. Looks more dangerous than the rocks in Pennsylvania.

  And Sulli plans to climb that beast with no safety gear. It seems fucking impossible, but I remember why this cliff is on her list of climbs in the Yellowstone region. Ryke Meadows once free-soloed this same rock, this same route called The Bitterroot Buttress.

  Her dad did it, so it is possible.

  She can do it too.

  I’d bet on Sulli, but that doesn’t mean I won’t be biting my nails to the fucking bed watching her up there.

  I fit in my earpiece. Switch on comms to a frequency Akara set among Security Force Omega out west. Thatcher, Oscar, and Farrow are now in comms range, but they didn’t hike t
o the primitive campsite last night with us. They’re staying miles back at an RV campground with bathroom facilities—hell, even showers—and more importantly, they have easy access to the road.

  My brother and the others choosing to go glamping is a saving grace, really.

  I need them to be far away from me right now—or I could risk opening my big mouth to Thatcher and blurting out how Akara and Sulli already kissed.

  I’m not gonna be the first to spill the beans. The three of us agreed to keep everything to ourselves for now. If we tell the others, it’d cause too much attention and pull focus from Sulli’s purpose for being out here.

  To free-solo.

  Comms on, I figure since I’m awake I can at least whip up something to eat. Pretty easily, I start a fire using a fire-starter, then I boil a pot of water and dig through our breakfast supplies.

  Oatmeal, no thanks.

  Instant eggs, not bad.

  Pancakes, Sulli will love those. I leave out the add-water-only mix, and the longer I dig, the less I find any kind of meat. Looks like I’m gonna be a fucking herbivore.

  Wait—here’s a pack of beef jerky.

  I’ll take it.

  I rip into that dried meat, biting off a piece while I sit on a rock and mix up some pancakes for the mermaid and eggs for Akara and me.

  And I rub my thumping temple and glance too many times at the tent. I’m out here whipping up food for the girl I like, and she’s alone with Akara.

  Good for them.

  I try to think it, but my stomach roils.

  Midway through cooking, Akara climbs out of the tent. “Need help?” He fits in his earpiece as he approaches.

  Any heat in my soul just sputters out. Can’t resent Akara. Not when I’ve been a supporter of him getting with Sulli for so long.

  “I’m good.” I fit a toothpick between my lips and flip the third pancake. I have to go one at a fucking time on this teeny-tiny fold-out pan.

  Akara reaches for a pancake off a plate.

  “Those are for Sulli,” I say fast.

  He makes a face and points at me with the floppy, half-burnt pancake. “Who are you and what have you done with Banks?”

  I chew on the toothpick. “I’m the same as I’ve always been.”

  “You don’t cook. You especially don’t cook special breakfasts for anyone.”

  My lip nearly rises. “You sure I haven’t cooked one for you before?”

  “Thatcher has. You? Never,” Akara says. “If you cooked me breakfast, I would’ve marked the date on a calendar and stuck OMG stickers around the words Banks Loves Me.”

  I hold his gaze. “What’s today’s date?”

  “September 29th.”

  I nod to him. “Go get your OMG stickers. I made you scrambled eggs.”

  “Not pancakes?”

  “Those are for—” Sulli. I cut myself off as Akara bites into the pancake.

  Cringing, he spits it out in the sizzling fire. “Shit, these are bad, man. Like charcoal putty.”

  Fuck.

  I try one and barely chew before spitting the hunk in the flames too.

  “Here.” Akara comes closer. “Let me help.” He’s about to take the pan from my hand, but I rock back.

  “I’ve got it. You’ve already had time with her alone in the tent. Just let me try to make a fucking pancake.” I have some batter left. And this would be a power-move on my part if I could actually cook a goddamn fucking pancake.

  Akara is like a king, bishop, and rook on a chessboard. I’m just one knight trying to move in an L-pattern that makes no sense half the time.

  After I toss the third pancake on the plate, I pour more batter in the frying pan.

  Akara sinks down on a rock across from me. He just keeps looking at me.

  “What?” I ask.

  “I’m not used to seeing you this frustrated. Not much gets under your skin. Except me right now.” He sends me an apologetic look.

  I exhale roughly, hating being in a state of agitation. Feeling like I’m going to come up short when I pride myself on being there, without question or hesitation, for people who need me.

  Quietly, I tell him, “It’s the situation. I’ll get over it.” I pass Akara a bowl of scrambled eggs.

  “Thanks.” He finds a fork. “Sulli is still sleeping, you know. We weren’t kissing or having some kind of marathon conversation—and I can’t believe I’m even giving you these details.” I can’t either. He didn’t have to tell me any of that. Akara stabs the eggs a few times, then says, “It’d be easier if you were some asshole blueblood like the Rooster.” His eyes meet mine. “Then I’d just kick your ass.”

  I laugh. “You can still kick my ass if you want. But I’ll probably put you on yours.”

  He shakes his head, smiling. “In your dreams, Moretti.”

  I smile back. “I’d take that dream. It’d be better than the shit I’m sleeping through these days.”

  Akara’s features grow more serious. “You’re having bad dreams?”

  I lift a shoulder and flip the newest pancake. “Just restless ones.”

  While he takes a strong bite of eggs, he stares at the ground. He must be thinking hard about something. If it were related to work, he’d confide in my brother in an instant. But I’m not sure if this is about security.

  “Something wrong?” I ask.

  He looks up and lets out a dry laugh. “Other than the fact that we both like the same girl?”

  I flip the pancake again, looks golden. “Other than that unfortunate thing, yeah.”

  “Unfortunate is an understatement,” Akara replies into a sigh. “I hate that we’re competing for her attention…her affection. Because I want it, but I’m also going to feel badly when you don’t get it. And I’m going to feel like even worse shit when you do and I don’t.”

  “Same here.” I bounce my head, a migraine shooting pain in my left eye. I try not to close it. “Guess that’s what happens when someone you care about falls for the girl you like.”

  “Yeah.” He runs a hand through his hair and then answers my earlier question. “I’ve been having dreams.”

  I tense and scan him quickly. “That’s what’s bothering you?”

  He nods once, then swigs from a water bottle. He’s about to reply, but Sulli zips herself out of the tent. She’s already dressed in workout gear and carries a perfectly coiled rope. “Hey, guys. That smells good.”

  Before it burns, I toss the golden pancake onto a plate. “Lower your expectations. Akara’s food review came in and it wasn’t good.” I sprinkle the top of the pancake with yellow gummy bears. Standing up, I walk over to Sulli.

  “Akara’s not a good food critic, so it’s probably amazing.”

  “Hey, I’m a great food critic for mainstream tastes,” Akara defends. “Not your sweet-tooth concoctions.”

  She smiles at him, then really looks at the plate I hand her. “Did you only put the yellow gummy bears on here?”

  “Yeah,” I say. “Aren’t they your favorite?”

  Her smile is on me now. “Yeah. I just…thanks.” She nods a lot. “That was really fucking sweet.”

  My chest rises. It’s not often a girl calls me sweet.

  Akara cuts in, “Wait until you taste it before you give him the five-star, Sul.”

  “He can get five-stars for the fucking delivery and presentation.” She nudges Akara’s knee with her foot.

  Akara smiles at me. “She’s giving you a participation trophy.”

  I close one eye. Fuck this migraine. “That’s one more trophy than she’s given you.”

  Akara flips me off.

  I flip him off.

  “Alright—none of that in my fucking presence,” Sulli says in panic. She wasn’t here earlier to catch our heart-to-heart. “All friendships must remain intact and survive the duration of Yellowstone. I have annihilated too many friendships already—I don’t want to be known as the fucking Friendship Assassin.”

  We laugh, and Akara says
, “That’s too cute not to call you that.”

  “Stop,” she groans.

  He feigns hurt. “But my Friendship Assassin.”

  “Kits.” Sulli tries not to laugh. “I want to be the lover, not the fighter, definitely not the killer.”

  The air heats as the word lover hangs for a much longer beat.

  Sulli shifts her weight, her face brighter red. “Not that I know how to make love, but one day, I probably will.”

  I tip my head, wondering why she added probably—like she’s still not sure if she’ll ever lose her virginity. So I tell her, “You will.”

  Sulli gives me a once-over, flushing more.

  “You definitely will,” Akara chimes in.

  Who’s going to guide her? None of us have the answer. Only Sulli can make that decision.

  Her gaze pings from me to Akara, back to me. “Cool.” She nods, then shakes her head in a cringe. “Cool? Fuck me.” Her eyes bug out. “I didn’t mean to say that out loud or in front of you two…fuck.”

  Akara is laughing.

  Hell, I’m smiling.

  Instead of running away, Sulli stuffs her mouth with the golden, gummy bear pancake. While she chews with her mouth closed, she smiles at the taste, then makes a perfect sign with her fingers.

  Take it back—I fucking rock. Move over, Thatcher, a new Moretti chef is coming to town.

  Tension recedes as we joke some more about my cooking and Sulli’s sweet tooth. Soon, we all end up huddled around the fire. Sitting on three rocks, we eat the last bit of breakfast I cooked.

  I switch back to a lost topic. “What kind of dreams have you been having?” I ask Akara.

  Sulli frowns into a swig of water. “Did you have another one?”

  Akara nods, then explains to me, “Lately it’s always the same dream—or at least a version of the same one.” He describes the snow and the steel room. “Last night, I saw it again.” He pauses, and Sulli and I exchange a concerned look.

  Maybe he’s not getting enough sleep.

  Akara massages his hands. “Only this time, I opened the door and found you two trapped inside.”