Chapter 9
CHAPTER NINE
PERCY
“I should text him and tell him something came up and I can’t come.
” I gaze into the depths of my half-packed duffel bag and gnaw on my bottom lip, worrying a little spot of peeling skin until I taste blood.
“I should be working on my thesis, not galivanting around the woods with a bunch of gymbos. And, really, rock climbing? Who am I kidding? I’m bound to break my neck, or worse, make a complete ass of myself in front of… everyone.”
Juno doesn’t dignify my nervous rambling with a response, instead grabbing a handful of matched socks out of my middle drawer and stuffing them into my bag for me.
“I don’t even know how to put a tent up by myself.” There’s an edge of pleading in my voice, begging Juno to give me permission to chicken out of this whole stupid thing.
“Bestie,” they say, moving to stand in front of me, hands on my shoulders, looking right into my eyes to make sure I’m listening, “you need to take a deep breath. I’m sure I freaked you out with all the ‘camping is code for boning’ talk, but agreeing to go on this trip is not consenting to anything you aren’t ready for.
I think it will be good for you to spend a weekend bro-ing it up and just being one of the guys out in the woods. ”
When they put it like that, a sense of longing flutters in my chest. I do want that. I take a steadying breath and nod.
“Okay. You’re right. I can do this.”
“You can do this.” Juno smiles and pats my cheek. “Now, let me go grab my hiking boots for you.”
“Thanks,” I say, and I know that they know I don’t just mean for the boots. I have no idea what I would do without Juno’s pep talks and encouragement, even if they do border on invasion of privacy at times.
I finish putting clothes into my bag—mostly the gym clothes I bought, since I don’t think khakis and polos are standard camping attire.
As I’m zipping it up and running through a mental checklist to make sure I haven’t forgotten anything important, my phone vibrates in my pocket.
I pull it out to find a text from Butch letting me know that they’re parked outside.
My stomach flips and flutters wildly, and my hands shake so badly it takes me two tries to type out my reply telling him I’ll be right down. Juno gives me their boots, their tent, and one last encouraging smile before practically shoving me out the door like a baby bird out of the nest.
I can do this.
I repeat that to myself as I jog down the stairs and step out onto the sidewalk to find a conversion van parked right in front of my building, filled to the brim with camping equipment and large, muscled men.
I don’t recognize the three men in the front seat, but two of them look like they probably work at Sweat also, with massive biceps and that general gym bro vibe, with a more petite man between them.
The side door of the van slides open, and Butch scrambles to climb over Silas to get out.
“I could have moved,” Silas says with a chuckle as Butch stumbles clumsily out of the van.
“Hey there, Rocky.” Fender leans forward from the back seat, lowers his sunglasses, and grins at me. “You know, you didn’t have to bring a tent. I would have been happy to share.”
I frown, trying to work out whether he’s making fun of me or flirting.
“Ignore him,” Butch rumbles. “He’s just being a pain in the ass because he couldn’t find a warm body to drag along for the weekend.” He slides my bag off my shoulder. “Here, let me take that.” Butch takes the tent from me next, carrying them around to the back to find space for them.
Fender scoffs and leans back into his seat. “You mean I couldn’t find anyone I thought I’d be able to stand for seventy-two hours.”
“I’m always up for a cuddle if you get cold,” Callan purrs, playfully throwing an arm around Fender’s shoulders and nuzzling his ear until Fender laughs and shoves him away.
“I don’t know why I keep expecting you all to act like adults instead of horny animals,” the petite man in the front seat mutters, shaking his head.
He twists around and stretches his arm over the back of the seat to offer me a handshake.
“I’m Ezra, by the way. It’s nice to have someone along who isn’t a total meathead.”
I laugh and shuffle forward to shake his hand.
“Percy.”
“Hey, who are you calling a meathead?” the guy in the driver’s seat says indignantly.
“I mean that with all the love in the world,” Ezra says reassuringly, twisting back around and kissing him on the cheek.
“I don’t know, it kind of sounded like you were insulting us,” the man on his other side teases, looping an arm around Ezra so he can drag him over and give him a full kiss on the mouth.
“I stand by my horny animal comment,” Ezra says with a laugh when he breaks the kiss. “This is Andre and Xeno, by the way. Andre owns Sweat and Xeno owns Stud Muffins bakery.”
“Oh, cool, nice to meet you guys.” I give an awkward wave. The gym owner is here? Maybe this is some kind of fitness program add-on after all. Or a cult. Oh god, did I accidentally join some weird fitness cult without realizing it?
I shuffle my feet, looking into the van and trying to figure out where I’m meant to sit.
There’s some space between Callan, Fender, and Slater, all crammed into the back seat.
The middle row, where Butch was sitting with Silas before he climbed out to help with my stuff, is already pretty full with AJ sitting there as well.
Butch reappears beside me, my stuff safely Tetris’d into the back of the van with everyone else’s.
“Do you want the window seat?” he offers, putting a hand on my shoulder and giving me a friendly smile that makes my body heat and my stomach squirm with things I really have no business feeling for Butch.
“Sure, thanks.” I eye Silas. Should I just climb over him the way Butch did, or…?
“Let me make this easier. I don’t need a parade of asses in my face,” Silas says, unbuckling and sliding out. AJ does the same so I can climb all the way in.
“Why not? Sounds like a good start to the weekend if you ask me,” Fender quips.
Oh boy, it seems like Ezra was right. It might be an interesting weekend at this rate. I just hope I can bro hard enough to fit in.
BUTCH
There isn’t much space, but I’m definitely not complaining about having to put my arm around Percy just so we can all fit. It’s a few hours up to our favorite camping spot in Wisconsin, and we end up hitting the afternoon traffic out of Chicago, which adds another hour and a half to the drive.
Percy and Ezra end up talking about books they’ve both read for most of the ride and a childish part of me keeps wishing Dre or Xeno would distract him so I can have Percy to myself for a little while. By the time we reach the campsite, we’re all dying to stretch our legs and empty our bladders.
“Oh, wow. This is, like, camping camping.” Percy looks around the clearing.
“Yeah, it took me some getting used to,” Ezra says with a laugh. “There’s a bathroom with a couple of shower stalls and actual toilets about half a mile up the dirt road, but it’s pretty disgusting, so it’s really best left for emergencies.”
“Good to know.” Percy grimaces, then rubs his hands together. “I guess I’d better get my tent set up.”
“Last one set up cooks dinner,” Callan shouts, causing everyone to scramble for their bags and tents in the traditional mad rush.
“Great,” Percy mutters with a laugh under his breath.
“Do you need some help?” I offer, slinging my own tent over my shoulder.
“Oh, no, I’m fine.” He waves me off. “I’ve totally done this before. I’m a regular Robinson Crusoe.”
I cock my head, too afraid to ask who the hell that is. I just smile and nod.
“Cool. I’ll be right over there if you need a hand.” I point at the spot where I usually pitch my tent. “If you want, you can set up next to me. It’s a good spot—that big tree blocks the worst of the morning sun and the ground is pretty flat.”
He fiddles with the strap of his tent bag and nods. “Great. That, uh, sounds perfect.”
The woods fill with the sound of rustling nylon, the clanging of metal, and shit-talking as everyone hustles to get their tents up.
I’ve done this so many times that I could do it in my sleep with both hands tied behind my back.
It takes me no time at all to thread the posts through the eyelets and stake the whole thing to the ground.
When I’m done, I look over to find Percy’s tent technically up, but sagging. He takes a step to the side and trips over a stake that’s not shoved deep enough into the ground, and the whole thing collapses.
“Dammit,” he mutters.
I swallow a laugh. “You sure you don’t want a hand?”
He sighs. “Alright, fine. But for the record, this is Juno’s tent and I’m unfamiliar with it.”
“Sure,” I say agreeably. I don’t mind going along with whatever he needs to tell himself to protect his ego. That’s just bro code if you ask me.
“I think these pole things are broken or something. They won’t stay straight.”
“That’s what he said,” Fender shouts from across the clearing.
“Wow, he really has a quip for everything, doesn’t he?” Percy murmurs. “He’s as bad as Juno.”
“Try living with him,” I whisper with a laugh.
He snickers. “Like I said, he’s as bad as Juno.”
“Alright, let’s take a look.” I kneel down and start taking the tent apart so I can figure out where he went wrong.
Percy squats down next to me, his shoulder bumping mine, our hands brushing as we both reach for the same pole at the same time. Maybe there really is something wrong with his tent. He might need to sleep with someone else. Like me maybe.
If I pull the pole out a little too forcefully it’s a complete accident.
It’s a quality tent though, and the poles are built to withstand a lot more than clumsy handling…
unfortunately. Even more unfortunate, there’s nothing wrong with it at all.
He just didn’t slot the poles together right the first time.
I show him how to line them up and screw them together the right way, then demonstrate how to thread it through.
“Why don’t you do the right side.” I hand him the next pole. “That’s right, nice and easy, don’t force it. They want to fit together, so you don’t need to get rough with it.”
Percy’s face flushes and he coughs.
“I don’t know if that sounds extremely pornographic or if I’ve already spent too much time around Fender for one day,” he mutters.
My skin heats and I’m tempted to brush the stray curl off his forehead, but I keep my hands to myself and just laugh.
“Probably a little of both. Now, go ahead and ease it into the hole, nice and slow. Guide it through.”
“Okay, that definitely sounds dirty.” He shakes his head and grins as he threads the pole through.
It only takes us a few minutes to get his tent up and staked to the ground firmly enough to withstand hurricane force winds. We stand up and Percy brushes his hands off on his jeans, glancing around.
“Figures, I’m the last done,” he says with a sigh.
“Honestly, that’s for the best. The last two times it was Slater who finished last, and trust me when I tell you that you don’t want him cooking dinner.” I nudge Percy’s shoulder. “I’ll help cook if you want though.”
“Um, sure, that sounds good.”
“Awesome. But first, I think we have enough daylight for a little climb that’s just a quarter mile away. What do you say?”
Percy grimaces, then forces a smile.
“Alright, Coach, my life is in your hands.”