“I stand by my horny animal comment,” Ezra says with a laugh when he breaks the kiss. “This is Andre and Xeno, by the way. Andre owns Sweat and Xeno owns Stud Muffins bakery.”
“Oh, cool, nice to meet you guys.” I give an awkward wave. The gym owner is here? Maybe thisissome kind of fitness program add-on after all. Or a cult. Oh god, did I accidentally join some weird fitness cult without realizing it?
I shuffle my feet, looking into the van and trying to figure out where I’m meant to sit. There’s some space between Callan, Fender, and Slater, all crammed into the back seat. The middle row, where Butch was sitting with Silas before he climbed out to help with my stuff, is already pretty full with AJ sitting there as well.
Butch reappears beside me, my stuff safely Tetris’d into the back of the van with everyone else’s.
“Do you want the window seat?” he offers, putting a hand on my shoulder and giving me a friendly smile that makes my body heat and my stomach squirm with things I really have no business feeling for Butch.
“Sure, thanks.” I eye Silas. Should I just climb over him the way Butch did, or…?
“Let me make this easier. I don’t need a parade of asses in my face,” Silas says, unbuckling and sliding out. AJ does the same so I can climb all the way in.
“Why not? Sounds like a good start to the weekend if you ask me,” Fender quips.
Oh boy, it seems like Ezra was right. It might be an interesting weekend at this rate. I just hope I can bro hard enough to fit in.
BUTCH
There isn’t much space, but I’m definitely not complaining about having to put my arm around Percy just so we can all fit. It’s a few hours up to our favorite camping spot in Wisconsin, and we end up hitting the afternoon traffic out of Chicago, which adds another hour and a half to the drive.
Percy and Ezra end up talking about books they’ve both read for most of the ride and a childish part of me keeps wishing Dre or Xeno would distract him so I can have Percy to myself for a little while. By the time we reach the campsite, we’re all dying to stretch our legs and empty our bladders.
“Oh, wow. This is, like,campingcamping.” Percy looks around the clearing.
“Yeah, it took me some getting used to,” Ezra says with a laugh. “There’s a bathroom with a couple of shower stalls and actual toilets about half a mile up the dirt road, but it’s pretty disgusting, so it’s really best left for emergencies.”
“Good to know.” Percy grimaces, then rubs his hands together. “I guess I’d better get my tent set up.”
“Last one set up cooks dinner,” Callan shouts, causing everyone to scramble for their bags and tents in the traditional mad rush.
“Great,” Percy mutters with a laugh under his breath.
“Do you need some help?” I offer, slinging my own tent over my shoulder.
“Oh, no, I’m fine.” He waves me off. “I’ve totally done this before. I’m a regular Robinson Crusoe.”
I cock my head, too afraid to ask who the hell that is. I just smile and nod.
“Cool. I’ll be right over there if you need a hand.” I point at the spot where I usually pitch my tent. “If you want, you can set up next to me. It’s a good spot—that big tree blocks the worst of the morning sun and the ground is pretty flat.”
He fiddles with the strap of his tent bag and nods. “Great. That, uh, sounds perfect.”
The woods fill with the sound of rustling nylon, the clanging of metal, and shit-talking as everyone hustles to get their tents up. I’ve done this so many times that I could do it in my sleep with both hands tied behind my back. It takes me no time at all to thread the posts through the eyelets and stake the whole thing to the ground.
When I’m done, I look over to find Percy’s tenttechnicallyup, but sagging. He takes a step to the side and trips over a stake that’s not shoved deep enough into the ground, and the whole thing collapses.
“Dammit,” he mutters.
I swallow a laugh. “You sure you don’t want a hand?”
He sighs. “Alright, fine. But for the record, this is Juno’s tent and I’m unfamiliar with it.”
“Sure,” I say agreeably. I don’t mind going along with whatever he needs to tell himself to protect his ego. That’s just bro code if you ask me.
“I think these pole things are broken or something. They won’t stay straight.”
“That’s what he said,” Fender shouts from across the clearing.
