“Sure, that sounds good.” He nods, then looks up and down the street with the same wary determination he always wears at the gym. “Now, are we doing this, or what?”
CHAPTER NINE
PERCY
“I should texthim 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 togo 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. Idowant 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.
