Chapter 11
‘Well… uh, welcome home,’ Elliot murmurs, unzipping the door of a large, dark-blue tent. I step inside where my attention is grabbed immediately by the double air mattress sitting right in the centre with a sleeping bag arranged neatly on it.
Well, shit.
As I stare at the single sleeping bag, it strikes me that I hadn’t thought about our sleeping arrangement in a very real way. Judging from Elliot’s sudden slowness and general resistance to look in my direction, I’m guessing that the reality of our situation has hit him at the same time.
‘So… how should we do this?’ he asks.
‘Um, how about we just unzip the sleeping bag and we can have it over us? And lie straight on the mattress?’
He rubs the back of his neck. ‘Sure, that should work.’
I step around the mattress carefully, still sharing the drumstick with him.
‘It’s nice to have enough room to stand,’ I observe. ‘My back won’t be so sore in the morning.’
He still seems distracted by the situation at hand. I’d even say he looks quite frazzled. ‘Do you… want to borrow anything? A hoodie or something?’
I can’t control the guttural laugh that escapes me. I put my hand over my mouth quickly.
‘Sorry, I didn’t think we were in hoodie-sharing territory,’ I joke.
‘I don’t exactly love the idea of you freezing to death overnight. It gets cold at night, even in August.’ He digs into his bag and wordlessly holds out a black hoodie to me.
I take it with an awkward smile. ‘Thanks.’
‘Listen… maybe we should just have a truce in the tent overnight,’ he suggests. ‘If we say we’re both metaphorically holding the stick until morning – kind of makes sense given we’ll let go when we sleep anyway.’
‘I’m not sure if anything about this deal makes sense,’ I say honestly.
He just looks at me.
‘And I probably wouldn’t let go,’ I add.
‘You wouldn’t?’ His brows fly upwards. ‘You’d hold tightly onto it even while unconscious?’
‘Maybe I wouldn’t sleep at all if it means I would get to keep it.’
‘Nora, could we try and stay at least a little bit sane in this situation and get some sleep? Do you really think passing out with exhaustion would be a good addition to this weekend?’
I hum thoughtfully and lift my eyes to his, looking for any hint of mischief. He’s deadly serious. And I’ll admit, he looks tired.
‘Fine,’ I relent. ‘Sounds fair.’
I reach my hand out for another handshake, just as I did earlier. He takes it immediately with a laugh. ‘Is this a tradition now?’
‘We need to be holding the stick again by ten a.m., that’s the deal,’ I say without humour.
‘Deal.’
Without another word, he lets go of the stick and reaches for the sleeping bag to unzip it.
While he throws it over the mattress and starts getting ready for bed, I take the opportunity to sit on the floor and tackle the disaster that is my hair.
Leaving the drumstick in the corner next to me, I reach up to detect what level of chaos we’re dealing with.
I remember my mum sitting with me for hours when I was younger, taming my wild frizzy curls with a comb and countless creams and serums. Nothing ever worked to calm it down or keep it from bouncing back up into disarray, so I ended up cutting it into a long bob for ease and leaning into the ‘frazzled mess’ aesthetic.
‘Fuck,’ I whisper, wincing in pain as I start to gingerly unravel the tendrils tangled in the tiara.
Elliot’s head spins in my direction and his eyes stay on me for a moment before he ducks back down to dig into his bag. I truly have no idea how to conduct myself, and my body sags in relief when he begins brushing his teeth and steps outside.
We’ve definitely receded back into painfully awkward territory in the tent. But things have been so much easier in the last hour or so, potentially even… briefly pleasant? Conversation had flowed with ease, and I even found myself not wanting to throttle him.
I do wonder if this sleeping arrangement is strictly necessary, given that we’ve decided on a truce until ten a.m. anyway. So why am I not leaving? I want my cosy sleeping bag and my make-up remover. And yet? Here I am?
Why? What am I doing?
I successfully tug the tiara out of my curls and throw it aside before reaching for Elliot’s hoodie. A warm, woody scent fills my senses as I pull it over my head. Just as I resist the urge to grab a fistful and breathe it in greedily, he steps back inside.
He turns to see me sitting in his hoodie and he briefly stills, before his eyes flick nervously to the mattress. He clears his throat.
‘I’ve just thinking about this and, listen…
’ He sighs. ‘I really don’t want you to feel like you have to sleep here.
I couldn’t imagine anything worse than a girl in bed next to me who didn’t want to be there.
’ His shoulders tense as he stumbles on the words.
‘Not that this is like that, but you know – you see what I mean?’
Of course I see what he means. I feel myself blushing furiously, not at the idea of being ‘a girl in bed next to him’, but being the specific kind of ‘girl in bed next to him’ that he clearly does not want there.
The type that doesn’t belong there. The overfamiliar sensation of rejection prickles in my stomach with a pinch.
‘I know it’s not like that,’ I say with a glare.
‘Okay.’ He crosses his arms and avoids my eyes. ‘I mean, I just wanted to check you were okay with this.’
I feel like I should find this sentiment reassuring, but for some reason I just feel a strange humiliation. All I know is I’m definitely not leaving and giving him any opportunity to claim the drumstick.
‘It’s fine,’ I say, starting to untie my shoelaces so I don’t have to look at him. He rakes his fingers through his hair as he watches me. A habit rooted in discomfort, I can only assume.
‘I’ve got some mouthwash, if you want some?’ he asks.
I glower. ‘Very hospitable of you.’
‘Well, this isn’t a hotel. It’s a tent,’ he says, gesturing vaguely around us.
‘Yes. I can see that.’
‘You want the mouthwash or not?’ he says, holding it out to me.
I snatch it out of his palm.
The zip to the tent is ripped open and Hennie’s head pokes through the entrance. Her eyes flick around the space with incredulity.
‘What the fuck? Look at the size of this thing,’ she croons, throwing the tent door open with a swish. ‘What are you doing in here? Building a land vehicle?’ She fails to control the volume of her voice and I definitely hear several shushes press in from around us.
He just raises his brows at her silently and turns back to his bag to grab something. Probably a hair product.
I step out of the tent to talk to her.
‘I love drunk Hennie,’ I laugh. ‘I fear I don’t see her enough.’
‘I’ve only had three drinks,’ she says mildly. ‘I just can’t believe this man has led you astray into a different campsite and now I’ve lost my wake up call.’
She hands over a tote bag full of my belongings.
‘Thank you,’ I say. ‘I’m fine, Hen. I promise. I really think he’s okay. Strangely, he seems quite decent at times.’
She narrows her eyes and inspects my face.
‘How was your night?’ I ask to avoid her scrutiny.
Her face clears and she smiles serenely. ‘It was actually really fun. They’re great guys, I like them. Even if Ham is a bit of a loose cannon and nearly started a fight by accident.’
‘What? By accident?’
‘Yeah, he elbowed some guy in the face by mistake while he was dancing and nearly got in a tussle because of it. Luckily Owen sweet talked them off him,’ she adds with a grin, before she speaks again more quietly.
‘I actually kind of love these guys. Even if Elliot is a nightmare. Albeit a good-looking nightmare,’ she adds in a dramatic whisper.
I snort and take a swig of Elliot’s mouthwash, ignoring the strange urge to defend him. I refuse to agree with her on his appearance though.
‘Hang on,’ she says, looking down at my hands with horror. ‘What’s going on? You’re not holding it? Did you lose?’
Mouth still full, I shake my head and try to mime ‘we made a deal’ by interchangeably shaking her hand and pointing at his tent. Amazingly, she seems to understand the gist.
‘Right,’ she says, nodding slowly. ‘Sure. Totally normal part of this very normal agreement.’
I huff a laugh awkwardly, trying not to spit mouthwash at her.
‘What a weekend,’ she says with wonder. ‘This might be our only alone time for the whole festival.’
‘Mm-mmm,’ I reply with a woeful intonation of ‘I know,’ before relieving myself of the mouthwash.
‘Where are the boys now?’ I ask.
She tips her head in the direction of the main path. ‘They just dropped me off and went back to pee. Anyway, back to you: are you genuinely okay with this? I’m worried. Do I need to sleep on the grass outside the tent?’
‘Hen,’ I say in my most reassuring voice. ‘Honestly, I’m okay. You don’t need to worry. I’ll text you immediately if I need you, alright?’
‘Fine. I’m just slightly concerned he’s fallen in love with you and it was his plan to lure you to his tent via drumstick agreement all along.’
‘Hush,’ I hiss in outrage, hoping that Elliot hadn’t heard her. ‘That’s not even close to what’s happening.’ The pure humiliation of him hearing that Hennie could think I’m any way in his league hits me like a punch to the gut.
She rolls her eyes. ‘Sure, sure. If you trust him though, fine.’
I give her a long hug and pull back to pat her little cheeks.
‘Love you, Harty,’ she whispers. ‘Sleep good!’
‘Love you too,’ I whisper back with a small smile.
She steps back and starts to retreat before turning back to me. ‘If you don’t report to our camp by eleven a.m. I’m calling a search party, okay? And then I’ll ruin his life. I’m feeling violent these days,’ she announces.
I watch her tiny frame disappear behind a tent and look back at Elliot’s, a strange anticipation filling my limbs. I huff out a sigh of frustration before making my way back inside.