Gary opens the door. “Hey, folks. What do y’all think?”
“I think it’s exactly what my brother wanted,” I say.
“Wonderful. Come on outside, and y’all can sign the documents.”
Gary’s smile is about the same size as the motorhome when he adds the last flourish of his signature next to where his sister had signed.
“And there ya go. I booked the campsite for the evening, so if y’all find anything or have any questions, just come a hollerin’, all right?” He points out the tiny kitchen window. “I’m a few sites down the road behind you. I left a sheet of paper with instructions on setup and takedown. Simple stuff. If my sister could do it, so can y’all.”
I try not to panic when Gary peels away, leaving a sandstorm of dirt in his wake.
Coughing, we fan the air around us.
“Well, you’re the proud owner of a gloomy cat shrine motorhome for two days. Happy?” Tristen asks, throwing an arm around my shoulder as we stare at the daunting project before us.
“I am.” The peaceful moment of unity lasts for a second before I glance up at him with a smirk. “I call dibs on the queen bed.”
Chapter Ten
TRISTEN
Disoriented and dripping with sweat, I snap upright in a panic and immediately crack my forehead against the low ceiling. With a hiss, I scan the strange cat-themed room in confusion before my brain catches up.
Reese. Texas. Motorhome.
Sunlight pours in through the tiny window by the overhead bed, heating the small space to an uncomfortable temperature. I swing down to the main level, where the air is ten degrees cooler. Stretching, I massage the kink in my back. The bed doesn’t use a real mattress but a folding piece of foam, which, according to my back, is only one step up from sleeping on the floor.
I shuffle to the fridge and grab a cold bottle of water and chug it. The liquid pools into my empty stomach, and it growls in response, starving for something more filling.
Before I head outside, I peek into the bedroom at Reese. Resting on top of the covers, she didn’t even make it to the pillow before passing out on her stomach, her limbs stretched out mid-crawl. She purrs softly in her sleep, her mouth ajarand her blonde hair tangled around her, reminding me of when she slept on me hours ago on the bus.
The urge to climb in beside her and sink into the comfortable bed is tempting, but that would be well over the line of friendship. The rigid overhead bunk will have to do. While I was cooking in the window, it’s icy in the back room with the air conditioning vent pointing right at her. I snatch a nearby blanket with kittens playing with yarn and carefully drape it over her.
My stomach growls again, and I stroll back out into the living room, wondering where I should sit when both the dinette and couch are unusable. Fixing both of those should be our top priority.
Slipping outside, I sit at the worn picnic table and order pizza delivery from a local joint a few miles away. I also make sure to keep my promise and ask for the biggest cup of coffee they can deliver to the campsite for Reese. It’s best to be prepared for a hangry Reese when she finally gets up.
It’s warmer here compared to the cooler Colorado temps. Still an hour from sundown, the campers are enjoying the last bit of light, kids riding by on their bikes and the air filling with the delicious aroma of hamburgers and hot dogs. Some even lounge outside, watching college sports on their flat-screen TVs.
“Camping” is definitely a loose term. More like bringing your motel room with you versus becoming one with nature. Isn’t that the whole point? To escape the everyday and modern conveniences? Usually when I go, I string a hammock and stare up at the stars and fall asleep to the sound of the wind whistling through the trees.
A golf cart zips past, the family still wet from the pool. Their laughter and voices echo behind them.
Watching the families, I see the appeal of RV life. The tranquility of nature is replaced with the ease of camping, allowingpeople to go more often and create more memories. A dry, warm bed no matter what the weather is outside. Having the comfort of home at my fingertips. I’ll admit, having my own indoor toilet is a thousand times better than using leaves in the wilderness.
Buzzing sounds in my pocket, and I contemplate sending it to voicemail until I see Nicole’s name on the screen. Squeezing my eyes closed, I take a deep breath and hope for good news about my anime audition I submitted a few days ago.
“Hello?”
“Tristen, my darling, how are you?”
I cringe at the endearment.
“I’m fine... still on that vacation I told you about.”
“Good for you. Rest that golden voice of yours because I have another audiobook contract on my desk that you’re gonna flip over.”
“Is it a mystery? Sci-fi? Anything but?—”
