“I fart in my sleep, so I guess that makes us even.”
I looked past him to the clearing where the trucks were parked in a crooked line, dust still clinging to the bumpers. The river sat just beyond the trees, close enough that I could hear it moving over rock. Sunlight cut through the canopy in broken patches, catching on metal coolers and folding chairs as the guys unloaded gear.
“Don’t like it?” Mason asked, taking a deep breath as he scanned our surroundings.
“It’s not the location so much.” I shifted the tent poles in my awkward grip. “I just don’t know if camping out here for a whole weekend is such a great idea.”
“Tell me about it,” Tucker said, coming over to us. “Our first full weekend without team obligations, and this guy drags us into the wilderness.”
Grayson dropped his pack near the far edge of the site and announced, “I’ll be over here if anyone needs me.”
Hunter wrangled the tangle of tent poles Tucker had left him with, and grunted. “Of course you will. Making the rest of us share, while you get a tent all to yourself on the best patch of grass.”
“Captain’s privilege.” Grayson winked at him. He then turned, rummaged his tent out of its bag, and I swear there were no more than a few snaps and a tug before the thing shot up all by itself.
“You have got to be kidding me,” Hunter muttered.
Grayson dusted his hands with a smug look, and sauntered down to where we were still trying to get our poles organized. “When Mason said ‘camping’, I didn’t think he meant in the dark ages. Where’d you get these old things? The 1800’s?”
Tucker snorted and stabbed a tent stake into the ground with his boot. “You pull rank one more time and you’re waking up in a ditch. Fancy tent and all.”
“What was that?” Grayson cupped a hand behind one ear. “Can’t hear you over the sound of my leadership.”
Mason clapped his hands once, loud enough to cut through it. “Alright, divas. Let’s get set up before the sun drops. We’re not rookies.”
Hunter glanced at me as he fixed the corner flap on his tent. “Well, four of us aren’t.”
I took the poles Mason had handed me and fit two together, the motion automatic. “In my Surge jersey, maybe. But I know my way around these babies.”
“Care to put a wager on that?” Tucker’s grin was sponsored by unearned confidence and day-drinking.
My hand shot out, and he shook it. “Game on.”
“I have structured team building exercises planned.” Mason stood over us as the secluded camp site suddenly unraveled in total chaos. “You guys don’t have to—”
But we weren’t listening.
Over on my left, Grayson had pitched in to help Tucker and Hunter, their frantic commands folding in on themselves in a flurry of tent poles and canvas flaps. I kept my cool, connecting the poles in order, then feeding them into the allocated holes.
“No thanks, I don’t need any help,” I said to Mason, who hadn’t yet moved to get in on the action. “Everything’s under control.”
He shook his head, but couldn’t hide the way he was biting back laughter. “You’re not the one I’m worried about.”
“That’s my foot!” Hunter yelled, just in time to stop Tucker from bringing down the mallet.
Their bickering only intensified, which slowed them down considerably.
“So,” Mason said, crouching as he threaded a pole through fabric, “you ready for this?”
“For what?”
He glanced over his shoulder at the others. “This. No schedule. Just a couple days where nobody’s watching.”
I hesitated, then slid another pole into place. “Yeah. I think I am.”
“That’s new,” he said. “A year ago you would’ve been counting the hours until you could bail.”
“A year ago I didn’t think I needed this.”
