Chapter 22 #3
I’m relieved that I don’t need to crawl to the only other person here I’d be comfortable sharing a tent with. It’s nice to be claimed, for once.
Calliope tosses a garbage bag full of Smirnoff Ice bottles in the trash, and I grab a tent.
It’s like a tween sleepover: where you sleep suddenly has profound importance in determining the social hierarchy. Eitan and Josh form the nucleus of the guys’ tents, and Pen and Clara are already flanked on either side by Emma and Deep and two of Pen’s Instagram-model friends.
Suddenly, I want nothing more than to remove myself from the pecking order.
I trudge to the other side of the campsite, and a weight lifts.
It’s been fourteen years since I’ve pupped a tent, but the summer camp instincts run deep.
I lay out the tarp, stake the poles, and stretch the nylon tent over its frame.
Intense focus on this task prevents me from having to think about Eitan.
I was doing well when I was alone in my apartment, but being out here, getting lost in his eyes as we held in a fit of laughter, it’s harder to remember why things between us don’t work.
Logic is superseded by the feel of his mouth on mine and the ticklish glow of his laugh.
“Nice work.” Calliope tosses her duffel inside the tent. “You’re like a real camper.”
“My counselors would be thrilled to hear that.” I wipe away the sweat forming from my nascent hot flash.
Calliope hands me a sleeping mat and a sleeping bag, then ducks inside the tent.
“So I’m guessing this isn’t exactly what Pen was expecting?” I ask, following her in.
Calliope’s grin is devilish. “I was asked to plan a camping bachelorette party, and I delivered.”
I try not to laugh too loudly.
“This is what Josh wanted. Eitan and I figured he should get at least one thing he actually wants for this wedding.” Calliope tugs on my arm, stopping me mid-unpack. “Speaking of! Now that those two gossips aren’t here, I must know what happened between you and him.”
I suck on my teeth. To spill or not to spill.
“If you’re going to deny it, you’re wasting your breath. Remember that I have a nose for these things.”
I sigh. “We kissed.”
“Shut up. How was it?”
An intense and detailed flashback hits me. Soft lips, sweet as sugar. Musk mixed with aftershave. His hands.
I shake myself out of it. “Good. Then bad.” I stare intently at my sleeping bag. “But ultimately very good. Alarmingly.”
Calliope tilts her head, narrowing her eyes. “Remind me again why it’s alarming that kissing a really hot guy is good? Pretend I’m five, explain it to me.”
The problem with spilling is that it opens up an entire can of worms I’m not prepared to divulge. “It’s just too complicated with the wedding.”
“In one month the wedding will be behind us.”
I pick at a loose thread. “Well, there you go. Once the wedding is done, Eitan is leaving. Off to San Francisco or Auckland or anywhere more exciting than Chicago.”
Calliope hums.
“What?” I ask, sighing.
“Has he told you that he’s leaving?”
“Well, he said he’s planning to—”
“Plans change all the time. I backpacked through Europe after college and was supposed to stay a summer but ended up in Prague for a year.”
“Yes, but you’re—” I gesture at her. “You. I’m me.” Eitan needs novelty. He needs excitement, newness. I’m one disrupted routine away from a panic attack in a supply closet.
“I’m failing to see the difference.”
“Things like that don’t happen to me. They happen in movies, and I’ve had twenty-nine years to establish that my life is not like a movie.”
“Please tell me you didn’t buy Pen’s bullshit.”
“She had a point.”
“She had an agenda! If you believe you deserve good things, then you may start questioning exactly why you’re doing all of this crap for my sister.”
It sounds eerily similar to Eitan’s concern. I don’t like the way she treats you. Penelope was right about one thing. Other people don’t understand. It’s hard to make sense of the situation without knowing about our agreement. Our mutually beneficial agreement.
Calliope’s harsh words hang in the air. I should defend myself, or defend Penelope, but I just don’t have the energy to. I had hoped that sharing a tent with Calliope would be an escape from all of this.
“I’m gonna see if they need any help with, um, dinner.”
“Ruby,” Calliope says, her voice forlorn. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.”
I shake my head vigorously. “You didn’t upset me, I’m fine.”
Fine. That’s exactly how I am. Caught between good and bad. Lukewarm. Suspended.
On the other side of the campground, Eitan—boyscout he no doubt was—helps Skip hoist a supersized stockpot onto the fire. Josh is laughing, looking relaxed for once, beer in his hand. Deep and Emma sit with them, talking and laughing.
He doesn’t normally go for girls like you. Pen’s voice cuts through me. I know this is for the best. I was the one who pulled away first, right? But somewhere deep beneath my sense of self-preservation, a wild, romantic shard of myself is disappointed.