“The site says 7.6 miles, but I don’t know if that meant one way or round trip,” someone else answers. I think that’s the voice of our second goalie, Marion Arivitis. The slight Greek accent gives it away.
“I think Coach said the hike should only be three or four hours,” Zenia says, “but that’s probably for more seasoned hikers. We’ll probably be four or five.”
“You think Coach is a seasoned hiker?” Felton asks.
Mentioning Coach Shively has me peeking around the bodies in front of me as if I can see him through the trees ahead. I can’t, but I imagine him all sweaty and sexy. I can see his tight ass in tight pants as he steps up rocks and over roots. Thoughts of him occupy my mind while we continue hiking through the morning.
I’m ready for a nap once we hit the mid-way point where we fill up our water. Coach has a protein bar for each of us. I’mnot so tired that I don’t smirk when our fingers brush. “Thanks, Coach. That’s very thoughtful of you,” I say.
His smile is polite, the same smile that everyone gets, but I think the way he stares into my eyes may be just for me. It lingers. I think his eyes follow me as I head back toward Willits and Felton to rest before we hit the rest of the trail.
It takes us four and a half hours to reach the end of the trail. We move a ways beyond the end until we reach a clearing by a lake where we’re going to set up for the night. There are two wooden crates waiting there, which tells me that there’s also a trail for vehicles close by.
Like my teammates, I drop my bag on the ground and stretch my back. I’m not the only one groaning as I do. Wow, I feel old. Thirty must be the new sixty. Oof.
“Can we cool off in the lake?” Zenia asks.
“Go ahead,” Coach answers. “Enjoy yourselves for a bit, then we’ll set up camp.”
“Can we swim naked?” Felton asks.
I shake my head, but Coach waves us off. “Go for it.”
I’m surprised by how many of my teammates decide to do just that. They strip bare and run into the water. I’m slower to strip, and unlike everyone else, I brought water shoes. Call me weird, but I don’t enjoy stepping on rocks or feeling anything potentially slimy under the water.
They’re tied to the outside of my pack so I don’t have to work extra hard to get at them. Once I’m naked save for my water shoes, I head for the water. Is it my imagination, or am I being watched? It feels as though there are eyes on me from behind.
The water feels almost cold as I step into it. I don’t join the ruckus of my teammates but head off to the side. I dive under and float around for a minute, letting the water bleed through my hair to my scalp. Fuck, I’m sweaty.
When I need a breath, I come back up and float on my back to let the sun beat on my skin while the water keeps me cool. This is probably one of the last hot days before fall really sets in. A perfect weekend for camping.
Willits makes his way over and joins me on his back, hooking his arm on mine so we stay close. “I could get used to this,” he says.
I turn my head to look toward shore. My view, though not interrupted, is strange because I’m right on the surface of the water. But I see him. I bet he’d feel good on my dick right now while we float in the water.
“Yep, though I could do without the hike to get here.”
He snorts. “I didn’t hate the hike, but I’d have enjoyed it much more without the fifty pounds on my back.”
I nod. “Also, I’m starving. Is it just me, or do you smell food?”
Willits picks his head up. “Not just you. There’s certainly a fire going.”
We’re left to our own devices in the water for quite some time before Coach calls us in. We’re given food, and maybe I’m super hungry or someone knows their way around a campfire, but it’s fucking good.
I’m amused that no one bothers to dress. We sit around with our bare, wet asses on our packs as we eat. I keep Coach in my peripheral vision as I do, and I’m sure I’m not imagining him constantly glancing in my direction.
Once we’re finished, we’re instructed to set up our tents. Everyone has tents from outdoorsy shops. I’m the only one tying a rope between two trees and setting up my military-style bivouac. I spread out the poncho liner on the ground then unroll the sleeping bag. Perfectly simple and finished before anyone else.
I sit in front of my tent on the edge of my sleeping bag and watch everyone else struggle with poles and stakes. No one elsethought to bring a mallet, so they’re using the soles of their shoes to try to pound them into the ground. Apparently, no one saw me using my mallet.
I’m amused when Marion looks at me with narrowed eyes from close by. “How is that to keep you warm?” he asks, Greek accent more prevalent because he’s frustrated.
“The sleeping bag keeps me warm. This keeps me dry.”
“And the bugs?”
“I haven’t felt any bugs, but I have a bug net that I can drape over if I need to.”
