“Jesus fuck, the technicalities don’t matter. Can’t you see what they’re doing?”
“Yes, but I think it’s good to have it on record that I know the proper term for parent-trapped.”
“You’re…impossible,” I say in a seething tone and then walk over to the packed-up tent to start unzipping it.
“What are you doing?”
“What does it look like I’m doing?” I ask. “I’m setting up the tent.”
“You don’t actually believe that we have to sleep here…” Her voice trails off. “Oh my God, do you think this is the tent they were talking about last night?”
“If they were, not sure why they wanted this form of torture. Couldn’t think of anything worse than having to share a tent with you tonight.”
“Aren’t you pleasant?” she asks as she sits down on a log.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I ask.
“Uh, sitting.”
“Do you plan on sleeping in this tent tonight?”
“Yes,” she says.
“Then I suggest you come over here and help me set it up.”
“Well, I see chivalry is dead.” She stands from the log and walks over to me.
“This isn’t a chivalrous thing to do. This is team bonding, and isn’t that what we’re supposed to be doing? Team bonding?”
“We’re supposed to be in our sex cabin, getting ready for dinner. That’s what we’re supposed to be doing.”
“Yeah, well, your refusal to talk and incessant repetition that this couldn’t get any worse wound us up here.”
“Please, you weren’t talking either. You can’t blame this on me.”
“Oh, I can,” I say as I shake out the tent poles. “This is all on you. This was your idea.”
“My idea? You were the one who paid for the camp up front.”
“You’re the one who brought us together because you were trying to look like you belong.”
“You’re the one who said yes to the idea.”
“Because I was bored,” I shout, raising my arms to the sky. “Because I was being helpful. Sorry for lending a hand.”
“Apology not accepted.”
“You are…insufferable.”
“Say that into a mirror,” she shouts.
“I swear to my left fucking nut, Scottie, if you don’t hold still, I’m going to feed myself to the bears.”
“Well, in that case,” she says, moving the pole I’m trying to connect.
Speaking through a clenched jaw, I say, “I have zero problem sleeping under the stars tonight. You’re the one who requires a tent. Not me.”
“I don’t require a tent,” she says, lifting her chin, as if she’s trying to call my bluff.
