“No, I—”
“Good.” He turns to finally look at me. “Don’t. You’ll hurt yourself trying to figure it out.”
My jaw tenses as I grip the steering wheel, refocusing on the road.
He leans forward and starts fiddling with the stereo. “What is this?” The speakers buzz with static and short clips of tunes as he continues flicking through the different stations. “Did they run out of songs and just hit replay?”
“I had my Bluetooth on before you got in. Didn’t know what you liked. Figured I’d save myself the judgment.” I nod toward my phone in the console.
He lets out a quiet huff of amusement. My chest tightens a little. That’s the first real sound of life I’ve gotten from him all morning.
“You’d need cool points to lose them,” he says flatly, reaching for my phone.
Right. I walked straight into that one.
“What were you listening to, anyway? Bee Gees?” His brows pinch as he plugs in the aux cable.
I chuckle. “How old do you think I am?”
He shrugs, grinning sharply. “Old enough.”
My most recent song kicks in through the speakers—“Come As You Are”by Nirvana.
He pauses, arms folding behind his head, chest rising slowly. “Huh. Not bad.”
“I have a feeling I’m gonna surprise you a lot this weekend,” I say, letting myself smirk.
“Doubt it,” he says, not even looking at me.
I glance over at him again. “Are you this charming with everyone you meet?”
“Nah.” His head tilts. “I just like making sure people don’t confuse themselves.”
“And what would I be confused about?”
He looks over. Eyes steady, burning a hole in the side of my face.
“Thinking you’re different.”
The corner of his mouth lifts. Not a full smile. Just enough.
My stomach does a slow, strange turn. I grip the steering wheel tighter, facing the road again.
The silence stretches between us. I reach over to turn up the music, just enough to fill it.
He’s not here to bond. He’s here to mess with me. To make me regret ever asking to meet him. And damn if it’s not working.
***
We turn off the main road and onto the trail leading through the backwoods. Nothing but tall trees, winding dirt paths, and the kind of quiet that makes you feel like the rest of the world doesn’t exist.
Just how I like it.
I’ve been camping since I was a kid. There’s something about being surrounded by nothing but nature that always centered me. Out here, there’s no distractions, no hiding. Just you, the fresh air, and the quiet. It’s addictive how freeing it can be.
I booked us a site tucked away from the others. A bit of a hike to the shared restrooms and showers, but I figured it struck a decent balance—private, but not so remote it screamsserial killer energy.
“Have you ever been camping before?” I ask, glancing over.
