“Suit yourself.” I dispose of the quills and the first aid packaging. It’s only when I turn back to the empty firepit that I remember I dropped all my firewood when I crashed into Miles. “So much for building a fire.”
He waves a hand. “Just as well. I’m beat. Why don’t we shoot whatever material you need for Tently and call it an early night?”
I consider. We haven’t had dinner, but I ate my weight in Twizzlers this afternoon and I’m not actually hungry.
“Works for me.”
I pull out my phone and snap some pics of the campsite with the tent front and center before we lose the light. Then Miles offers to take a few of me posing with the tent.
When we’re done, I flip through the pics, frowning.
“What is it?” he asks.
“Something’s off, but I can’t put my finger on it.”
I show him the pics, scrolling quickly through the album.
“It feels too staged.” He points to the screen. “You can see right inside the empty tent. You need to throw down some blankets or something.”
He’s right, of course.
It’s a rookie mistake, but easily corrected.
“Tently sent some other stuff along. Let me see what else is in the shopping bags.”
Five minutes later, I return with an armload of gear.
“I found a small lantern and a sleeping bag. I also found a mallet and something called a tent footprint.”
Miles snickers. “I’d say it’s a little late for those.”
“That’s what I figured.” I drop the supplies in the grass and set to work on the sleeping bag. When I shake it out, two matching pillows fall to the ground. “Look at this thing. It’s crazy big.”
“That’s because it’s a double.” He swallows, his throat bobbing slowly. “It’s meant to fit two people.”
Just like the tent.
Heat floods my cheeks.
You have no one to blame but yourself.
After all, I’m the one who posted all the photos of Miles. The Tently rep probably just assumed we were a couple. It’s a reasonable—if inaccurate—assumption based on the evidence. Evidence I put out into the world without Miles’s knowledge.
It’s just one night.
And one endorsement deal that could be a stepping stone to bigger, better things.
I can’t afford to screw this up.
“Well, then.” I clear my throat. “At least we’ll be warm, right?”
Miles nods slowly. “It gets cold in the desert at night.”
I crawl into the tent and lay out the sleeping bag, painfully aware that my ass is on full display. Once I get the sleeping bag and pillows settled, I switch the lantern on and place it by the entrance.
“Better?” I ask, wiping my palms on my thighs.
“Much.”
