Six Days: Book One in the SIX Series

by Randileigh Kennedy

  “So what, you’re going to make me bungee jump or something? NO bungee jumping, I won’t do it,” I said, vehemently shaking my head.

  “Deal. No bungee jumping, I promise. But you have to trust me. Just say yes, and I promise you a good time. You’ll get to live a little,” Griffin paused and everyone fell silent. “It’s in the box,” Griffin added, twirling the note card around in his hand and dropping it into the wooden box, closing the lid. “Seven days,” he mused.

  “Seven days,” I repeated, suddenly feeling queasy. He did promise no bungee jumping which was a relief. Surely there weren’t things worse than bungee jumping? I barely knew this guy, what would he want to do for a week? Besides, I have had a little adventure in my life. Maybe not the good kind, but that still counted, right?

  “So, another year of dares,” Mallory said, raising her plastic cup of wine. Everyone lifted their drinks. In silence, they all sipped on what they had in their hands. I stared at the campfire, thinking I might throw up.

  Chapter 6

  I woke up in a haze, feeling chilly but yet somehow sweating from the early sun beaming into the tent. What time was it? I looked over at Mallory, snoring away, all wrapped up tight in her sleeping bag. How much did I drink last night? My head ached, and although I debated laying back down, I thought the best thing for me would be some fresh air.

  I unzipped the tent and peered out into the morning, taking in the beautiful view of the lake. I never considered myself much of a nature person, but I could get used to this. The sun was coming up over the mountain and the air was still and crisp. As I prepared to climb out of the tent, I noticed a bunch of sticks laid out on the ground. They were laid out like arrows. What? The first thought through my head was gratitude that it had been quite some time since I saw Blair Witch Project.

  I threw on some shoes and a turquoise hoodie and made my way outside the tent. I followed the stick arrows, nine sets of them to be exact, to a large tree with a note taped to it.

  Day 1: Hunt and gather for a fine dining experience.

  What? Who is this for? I thought back to last night, to Griffin’s dare, realizing this must be for me. Okay, hunting is not my kind of adventure. I’m not against eating animals obviously, but I do draw the line at killing them myself. I’m just not that person. I have seven days of these adventures? I suddenly thought back to the conversation Steve was having in the car earlier on the way up to the campsite, something about hunting and eating what he caught. That hadn’t happened though, not yet anyway, which I was relieved about. Did this have anything to do with that conversation? Why were men so barbaric? Annoyed, I turned to head back to the campsite.

  “You’re up early,” Griffin’s smooth voice said, startling me. “I see you found my note.” He sipped from the coffee mug he held in his right hand. I hated how good he looked this early in the morning. It didn’t seem right. His thick dark hair somehow looked even better slept on than it did after he purposely did anything with it. How was that even possible?

  “Yeah, I did. That was a clever little trail, other than the first twenty seconds where I thought I was going to die at the hands of some backwoods serial killer. So thanks for that.”

  Griffin stared at me with an expressive smirk, clearly amused at where my mind went with that.

  “Look, I’m not sure what you have planned, but if you think I’m killing something today, I’m not sure this is going to work out,” I huffed, failing to sound more pleasant about the situation. He peered at me with his soft eyes, and although I was still vehemently against the idea of hunting, I had a strange feeling this man could talk me into a lot worse.

  “Sorry, it’s not exactly what I meant to say. I mean it kind of is, indirectly. Look, I probably should have written out the first card before coming up here. Maybe it would have sounded more eloquent or something. I was kind of in a haze last night, and that’s just what came out,” Griffin said, staring at me as he spoke. “I’m sorry. Just trust me, will you?” His eyes pleaded with me.

  “Do I have to kill something today? Can you tell me we’re just fishing or something? I could work with that. It doesn’t actually seem like killing one of God’s creatures, in a weird way,” I replied, hoping for a good answer.

  “Look, it’s not as harsh as it sounds, maybe I used the wrong wording. Just don’t give it much thought. We’ll be making breakfast, going for a hike, and cleaning up camp. It’s for later anyway, so I don’t want you to be thinking something gruesome all day. It’s not like that. I promise this week will be fun, Addie. I just thought maybe I could get you to do some new things, just ‘live’ a little more. You’ll see. It will all be explained later, I promise. Just relax,” Griffin said, putting his arm around my shoulders.

  I felt a shiver run through my torso. Oh my gosh, I haven’t even seen a mirror this morning. What is happening?

  We made our way back to camp and everyone slowly stirred and got up as Griffin started on breakfast.

  The morning flew by and Megan and Steve went down the trail for a light morning jog. Steve pretty much complained of his endurance inadequacies the rest of the morning. He genuinely seemed interested in the challenge of running a half marathon with Megan though, which amused the group. He was adamant, however, that he wouldn’t give up his beer intake just because of training, which seemed fitting for him. Mallory was too ill from the night before to do much. She just sat in a chair by the campfire cursing the deliciousness of red wine. Even when we set out for a small hike up one of the hills she opted to stay behind, which was unlike her.

  There seemed to be an unusual electricity between Griffin and me. Conversation seemed awkward at best with other people chiming into our conversations. No one else saw the note on the tree so it wasn’t brought up throughout the day, which I was thankful for.

  By the time lunch rolled around Mallory was finally able to stomach the sight of food. She vowed to never again drink so much wine in one night. The others razzed her for being so sluggish and out of sorts. We sat around eating, laughing, and discussing our upcoming plans for the rest of the summer, of which I had none. It was moments like these where I realized just how uninteresting of a person I was. I barely put much thought into my day to day, let alone any plans for the future. It seemed more like my life was just one day rolling into the next. I couldn’t even think of any plans I had next week, let alone months from now. These people probably thought I was shy for not interjecting more into these conversations, but the truth was, I just didn’t have much to say.

  Finally it came time to clean up camp, and as the cars were being loaded up, Griffin grabbed my bag and headed towards his car.

  “Oh Griffin, that’s mine. It should go in Mallory’s car. She drove me,” I stammered, making my way towards him to grab the bag.

  “Sorry, I should have mentioned it, but I’ll take you back. We have an adventure planned today, remember?” Griffin flashed a boyish, mischievous smile.

  “Right,” I mused back, half excited and half freaked out. I had to admit, with all the eating, hiking, and cleaning up camp, I really did forget about the hunting thing for awhile. Of course now that I was about to be left alone with him, that was all I could think about.

  Everyone said their good-byes and Mallory pulled me aside as the others began getting in her car.

  “So, what does Griffin have up his sleeve for you today?” Mallory whispered. “He’s very out of character. He seems happier than he’s been as of late, but he hasn’t really told us about any of this. What are you guys doing?”

  “I have no idea. I mean this guy is stable at least, right? I mean, you’re not leaving me in the woods with a crazy man, are you? It’s always the handsome ones you know,” I remarked quietly.

  “He’s one of the best people I know, Addie,” Mallory said confidently. “He’s really spontaneous and fun. You’ll have a good time, I’m sure. It’s just unlike him to be so secretive. He hasn’t said a word about this to anyone. I tried pressing Steve for some infor
mation last night, although he really didn’t seem to know anything either and Griffin is his best friend. I mean, I know Griffin has been pretty busy lately with some family stuff, but all of a sudden this weekend he seems totally carefree. It’s like he has all the time in the world for us. I don’t know, he definitely seems different, but in a good way. But I promise, Addie, you’re in good hands.” Mallory leaned in and gave me a quick hug. “Will you call me when you get back, just so I know you’re home? I can’t wait to hear about it, whatever is going on.”

  “Yeah, of course I’ll call you. I guess we can talk about it more at the bakery tomorrow morning. Still on for seven?” I asked as Mallory made her way over to her car, nodding. I turned towards Griffin as their car backed out of the campsite.

  “So, I’m all yours. Give me some adventure.” I shrugged, looking at him, wondering what I was in for.

  “Great, grab that bucket,” he replied, pointing to a silver pail sitting next to the campsite’s picnic table. “Let’s go,” he said, smiling devilishly.

  I followed him down a dirt path, walking quite a distance to the edge of the lake. The water was perfectly calm and the world around us seemed so surreal. I studied Griffin in his loose cargo shorts and fitted white t-shirt. It was such a simple combination, but there was something so sexy about it too. I silently reprimanded myself for the thought. This would be a long seven days with thoughts like that in my head. He’d given me no indication that this was anything more than a friendship, just like his relationship with Mallory and Megan. Actually, this was even tamer than that. I was just a random name he drew out of a box, this whole experience being the result of that.

  “Are you coming?” Griffin’s soft voice asked breaking up my thoughts.

  “Sure,” I replied, following his lead by kicking off my shoes on the shore. I rolled up the bottom of my yoga pants and we made our way into the water. We were by a rocky part of the shoreline with big boulders jutting out of the water. They were huge.

  “This is one of the best spots,” Griffin stated matter-of-factly, as if I understood what he meant. “When I was little my grandfather took me out here every summer and we would spend hours on end catching crawdads. It used to be my favorite thing to do as a kid,” Griffin explained. His face lit up as he spoke. “Have you ever done it before?”

  “What? No, I’ve never even been fishing before. How on earth do you catch a crawdad?” I responded, feeling giddy just thinking about how amusing this all was.

  “With this,” Griffin answered, holding up a bag of lunch meat.

  “Crawdads eat turkey sandwiches? How would anybody know that?” I laughed.

  “Watch,” Griffin said, taking a small piece of meat out of the bag. He held the meat between his fingers, plunging his hand underneath the water next to the edge of one of the large rocks. Within about twenty seconds a crawdad the size of my palm crawled out, going for the meat. Griffin plunged his hand in, and in one swift motion he lifted up the crawdad and tossed it into his water-filled bucket.

  “Just like that? That’s it?” I exclaimed. Something about his movements enticed me, maybe from the anxiety and anticipation of waiting for the crawdad to come out, or maybe from the success of the whole thing working.

  “Try it,” he said, holding out a piece of lunch meat.

  I looked in his bucket. “Holy Moses, look at those claws! What if it pinches me when I try to grab it?” I asked, a little apprehensive.

  “Then he injects his poisonous venom into you and you die,” he said with a straight face. I’m pretty sure a look of horror crossed my face at that moment, and Griffin began laughing. “I’m just kidding. They’re so little, Addie. You’ll be fine.” He still held out the piece of meat, urging me to take it.

  Following his example, I moved a little ways down from his spot and held the turkey under the water just a few inches out from the base of the rock. In equal amount of time, two crawdads from different directions crawled towards the meat in my hand.

  First I screamed, and then dropped the bucket. Trying to quickly regain my composure, I plunged my arm back in the water and grabbed a crawdad before it could hide back under the rock. I threw it in the bucket so fast I thought I may have knocked the thing unconscious. Griffin doubled over with laughter, trying to catch his breath.

  “Your first try,” he said, still laughing. “You were a little startled, but you did it!”

  I had to admit his laughter was contagious, and I laughed too. I couldn’t believe I managed to still grab one after freaking out first. Griffin was right, it was… fun. I imagined Griffin as a boy, sharing this experience with his grandfather.

  For the next two hours I felt like a kid. One after the other, we moved around the rocks and bribed out as many crawdads as we could. Griffin knew we had plenty, but it was somewhat addictive and neither one of us wanted to stop.

  “Twenty-six, Addie,” Griffin said excitedly, “that may be a record for me.”

  “For you? I’m pretty sure I caught at least half of those,” I said with a smirk.

  “True. I hate to say it, but we probably only need about eight. I couldn’t tell you while we were catching them because it was so much fun to watch you. You seemed so scared and excited every time, I didn’t want to stop you,” Griffin paused. “Want to throw the rest back in?”

  “Eight? We only needed eight? Geez, I guess I didn’t ask. That was so much fun.” I threw my head back, reveling in the childlike feeling of something as simple as catching a crawdad. “I guess we should, so there’s something to come back for,” I replied, looking up at Griffin, surprised to see him already staring at me.

  “My grandfather passed away when I was fifteen. I don’t think I’ve done this since then. I forgot how much fun this was,” Griffin said with sincerity. For a moment I wondered who this adventure was really for. We gently placed the unneeded crawdads back along the edge of the giant rocks.

  “Now comes the real work,” Griffin said smiling, heading back to the shore line with the bucket. “You do know how to cook a crawdad, I presume?” Griffin stared at me with such a serious expression, only breaking when he saw the disgusted look on my face.

  “You eat them? They’re so tiny!” I shot back, mildly freaked out by the idea. Griffin just smiled and grabbed his shoes, so I followed suit. He headed back up to the campsite and I followed, wondering how serious he was about eating them.

  When we finally reached the campsite, Griffin opened up the rear door on the driver’s side of his black Audi. He set the bucket of crawdads securely on the floor in the back seat, wedging his duffle bag against it so the pail wouldn’t tip over. We climbed in the car and I took in one last view of the lake as we pulled away.

  I was surprised at how easy conversation came to us. It was so much easier when it was just the two of us. We joked about the others in the group and talked about some other memories he had with his grandfather. He spent a lot of time with him growing up, and I could tell by the sincerity in his voice that his grandfather must have meant a lot to him.

  As we continued the drive back, Griffin informed me he was taking me back to his place for dinner.

  “So if you’re taking me to your house, shouldn’t I at least know more about you? I don’t even know your last name,” I interjected from the passenger seat.

  “Well, interesting timing for that one,” Griffin bit his upper lip as if he really wasn’t sure how to respond. “I have actually been thinking about going by my mother’s maiden name, Hayes. My father and I, we’ve had a rocky time. He’s a business man, so he wasn’t really around much while I was growing up. So, I figured my mom has basically raised me, and my granddad, her father. I just feel like a Hayes more than anything else, if that makes sense. I don’t know, I’ve never been good at talking about some of that stuff,” Griffin said, furrowing his brow.

  “I’m sorry Griffin,” I spoke, “I didn’t mean to push you for information. You don’t have to tell me anything. I didn’t know that was a loaded
question. My family history is a bit of a mess too, so I get it,” I said, staring out the window as I spoke. “You can be Griffin Hayes to me without an explanation.” I could see Griffin’s face relax as I said it.

  The subject quickly turned to music and Griffin was happy to share his favorite songs with me, explaining what he loved about each one. He spoke so passionately about each song. All the music he liked had a similar sound, usually an honest voice with poetic words. It sounded like some of the music I heard Griffin playing around the campfire the night before. Although it was all new to me, I felt comforted by it. Time passed easily, and before I knew it we were pulling into his garage.

  “So is this like an apartment, or a condo or something?” I asked. The property looked like a bunch of smaller buildings combined together, but they all looked the same so I couldn’t tell where one ended and another began.

  “Well, kind of, they’re technically called ‘lofts’ I think. I don’t know the correct explanation for that, but mine is this whole section of the building. I know, it’s kind of ridiculous. But my dad,” Griffin’s voice trailed off and he shook his head. “Let’s just say as a business guy, he thinks that his role as a father can be made up for with money. I’m not that guy, but of course he barely knows me, so why would he know that. Anyway, he owns all these buildings, so…” Griffin’s voice trailed off again. I could tell he was slightly embarrassed by it, but either way, I was impressed. The place looked gigantic. Then I looked at Griffin, still dressed in his cargo shorts and t-shirt, reaching behind his seat for our bucket of crawdads.

  “What’s that look for?” he asked me, a smile spreading across his face.

  “Nothing, I just like this scenario. The guy who lives in some lofty penthouse apartment building, feeding a girl crawdads she had to catch herself, instead of a lobster,” I said smirking.