Chapter 6
Kaylee
I’m regretting that second can of Diet Dr. Pepper I drank with dinner. Big time.
Stroking Elizabeth Taylor’s soft head, I debate what to do. “Shall we brave it to the restroom building on our own?” I ask. Her ears twitch as she stares at me with her trusting brown eyes. “But what if a bear or a mountain lion eat us on the way?” I add, genuine concern lacing my voice. The dog’s expression doesn’t change one iota. She probably knows she could run fast enough to escape a bear or mountain lion. Me, not so much.
Squinting at the clock on my cell, I see 12:15am. Not an optimum time to call Luke. But he did say to call him any time, for anything. Right?
The phone rings several times, and I almost chicken out and hang up.
“Hello?” he answers in a sleepy voice on the fifth ring .
“Luke, it’s Kaylee,” I whisper as if trying not to wake anyone else up. The nearest campsite is far enough away that I’d have to yell for them to hear me, so I’m being ridiculous.
“What’s up?” he replies, sounding a tad bit more awake. He yawns, and I hear the sound of a nylon sleeping bag rustling.
“I’m terribly sorry, but I need to make a run to the restroom.” Holding my breath, I wait for him to berate me for drinking too much soda, like Mom would do.
More rustling sounds, then a thump. “Ouch!” he says.
Maybe Elizabeth Taylor and I can make it to the restroom on our own.
“Okay, I’ll be over in a minute,” he rasps a few seconds later, his voice sounding like sandpaper.
Guilt creeps in at waking him, and I wish my bladder wasn’t so insistent. No more soda in the evening for me. My fear of bears and mountain lions quickly overrides my guilt, plus I already woke him up. “Thank you,” I say before he hangs up .
Crawling out of my sleeping bag and two blankets into the frigid night air, I remove my soft, furry bunny slippers and put on my tennis shoes. I nearly trip over a pillow when I reach for my dog’s leash. In an attempt to make my tent seem homier, I brought multiple throw pillows and several blankets. An old-fashioned luggage trunk beside my sleeping bag acts as an end table for all my stuff and holds my clothes for the week.
Snapping Elizabeth Taylor’s leash to her collar, I shiver at the ready by the front flap. A few minutes later, I see a light bobbing towards my tent. Hopefully it’s Luke and not a UFO.
“Kaylee, I’m here,” he says, shining the light into the tent.
I unzip the canvas door. Elizabeth Taylor hops out of the door first, followed by my awkward exit. I stumble and end up sprawled at Luke’s feet. When I stand, he shines the light directly at me.
“What are you wearing?” he says, surprise leaking from his voice.
“Uh, pajamas. Everyone wears pj’s to bed,” I huff .
He roars with laughter. “I don’t know anyone who wears pajamas like that while camping.”
“What do they wear?” I fire back.
“Regular clothes or camping-specific sleep attire.”
My nose scrunches. What’s camping-specific sleep attire?
Before I can inquire, he plows on. “If campers need to make a bathroom run during the night, they won’t be caught wearing, er, at-home sleep attire. Plus aren’t you cold?”
Does this guy have a term for every kind of sleep attire? I glare as I look him over. Underneath a thick coat and heavy sweatpants, he seems to be wearing the same T-shirt from earlier, albeit a bit wrinkled. His bedhead hair is adorable, and my fingers itch to put it into some semblance of order. I refrain.
“I’ll go change,” I grumble, turning to crawl back through the flap.
He chuckles as he puts his hand on my arm. “That’ll just make you colder. Grab a coat and let’s go.”
Ugh! I didn’t bring a coat !
“Um, I’ll be fine,” I say with a violent shiver, feeling the cold despite the layer of thermal underwear beneath my pj’s. I start speedwalking toward the bathroom building, determined not to show any further signs of being chilled to the bone.
Jogging to catch up to me, he says, “What is that creature plastered all over your pj’s?”
“Hello Kitty,” I say as embarrassment floods my cheeks.
“I suppose you have matching slippers?” he jokes.
“No, I have bunny slippers, but I removed them. Who goes to a public bathroom wearing slippers?” I scoff.
He just shakes his head, chuckles still floating from his lips. “Good choice,” he says, but his voice cracks and another laugh slips out.
“I honestly don’t think wearing pj’s is so amusing,” I say as we walk, the flashlight on his cell phone lighting the dark, uneven gravel path. I walk closely beside him—the darkness makes me jumpy, and I’m ready to leap into his strong arms if we run into a bear or a mountain lion. I’ll probably do that if we run into a squirrel, come to think of it. That would certainly be warmer.
Elizabeth Taylor trots along beside us, happy to be included in the outing.
Discussion about proper attire lapses, and we arrive at the restrooms in only a few minutes, then locate the woman’s entrance. The building is well lit, mildly heated, and thankfully deserted because I don’t want any other seasoned campers to see me in this at-home sleep attire.
“I’ll just be a minute,” I whisper. “Hold Elizabeth Taylor’s leash please,” I say as I hand him the nylon lead. Once I’m inside, I take a deep breath as my chilled muscles relax. I remember that the stalls are quite grungy, and earlier I discovered that some had no toilet paper. I locate a stall with a good supply of TP and carefully put it down on the seat before I sit.
“What do you think of those kitty pajamas?” Luke’s rumbly voice echoes around the concrete walls of the entrance. At this hour, presumably he’s talking to my dog and not another campground visitor. “I mean, don’t you feel a bit miffed that her sleepwear is adorned with cats rather than dogs?” My dog—the traitor—yaps as if in agreement.
I chuckle and finish my business. The toilet flushes with such velocity and noise, I hope I didn’t just wake up the whole campground. After trying to wash my hands using a faucet that emits only a trickle of water and a soap dispenser that puts out nothing but air, I belatedly scan the room for paper towels and discover that both holders are empty. I make a mental note to report these deficiencies in the morning to my friend who got me the campsite. Shaking my hands vigorously, I end up wiping them on my sleep pants in an attempt to dry them. I don’t want icicles to form on our walk back. I take a deep breath to steel myself against the cold and step out.
As soon as I emerge, Luke says, “Ready?”
I nod and fall in beside him, resuming my brisk pace from before, hoping to generate some heat .
Luke surprises me by keeping ahold of the leash, and in a conversational tone says, “Liz, if you need to do your business, we can take a side trip through the woods.”
Giggling, I say, “So now you’re on a first-name basis with my dog?”
“Liz and I bonded while we waited for you,” he says. “Why do you always call her by her full name?”
“Gladys always did that, so I kept up the tradition. But it is kind of a mouthful. Maybe I’ll start using the nickname.”
Our feet crunch on the gravel trail as we walk. I can make out only the black silhouettes of vehicles and tents, and they’re all dark; no lights shine from the inside. Literally no one else is out and about except us. When I hear a howl in the distance, I take a step closer to Luke.
“Was that a wolf?” I whisper.
“No, that’s a coyote.”
Sure, that’s loads better. “Would one attack us if we scared it?”
“It would probably run away before we even saw it. ”
His words reassure me a little. Luke takes a short detour with Liz into the woods while I hop back and forth from foot to foot to stay warm, and they emerge a few seconds later. “She did her business, so you won’t have to worry about that until dawn.”
“Nice job,” I say, directed mostly at Liz. This guy is so thoughtful and sweet, it’s going to be difficult to say goodbye to him at the end of the week.
When we get to my campsite, he hands the leash to me. “Sweet dreams,” he says with a flirty smile.
Impulsively, I lean in and kiss him quickly on his bearded cheek, and his eyes widen with surprise. “Thanks for escorting me to the restroom,” I say, then crouch down and crawl into the tent. I hear him chuckling as he walks away.