“And what are your escape routes?” he asks next.
I point in two forty-five-degree angles.
“Look at you. Learned a few things in that training of yours. Okay, stand to the side of me and I’ll show you how to make the cut.”
“Ya know, this would have been helpful my first day of training. That tree almost took us both out.”
I move out of his way and he winks at me.
“Now what would be the fun in that? See what happens when you ask nicely?”
With his body at an angle to the stump, he performs a series of three cuts—two forming a wedge in the front and one from the back—before the whole thing buckles in a final collapse on the hay.
He flips the kill switch. “Andthatis how it’s done,” he says, whipping off his glasses. “Your turn.”
We work for hours side by side. He lets me practice; I perfect the technique. He tells me what a good job I’m doing; I throw out a praise kink joke. It’s like we’ve been doing this morethan a day, more than a few weeks, more than half a summer together.
The afternoon melts into twilight, and I step back to take in our work.
“We’re out of fuel again,” I say.
“I think we should call it a night anyway.” He rounds up our gear and turns for the crew’s meeting spot.
“Wait!” I shout.
After the hours we’ve spent together, this is either the best or worst idea I’ve ever had.
“I met your girlfriend.”
When he turns around, his eyebrows are pinched together. “When?”
“R&R.”
Real specific, Reed. I tilt my head back so I can gauge his reaction with my helmet out of the way.
Not mad…yet.
“Hailey and I were picking up a pizza at Grenaldough’s, and she was there.”
Okay, lookingslightlymore bothered now.
“With another guy.” I land the blow.
He looks at me like I’m crazy. Like this has to be some kind of joke.
“No…” He chuckles and shakes his head. “She was shopping with her mom that day.”
“I saw her, man.”
“Stop.” He pinches the bridge of his nose through his visor, his helmet jostling from side to side, and then he turns on his heels.
“Wait!” I cover the same hay-smashed boot prints he makes until he finally swings around.
This is backfiring. I don’t want him to go back to camp until we’ve talked this out. It would just upset Hailey.
“She wouldn’t do that. You don’t know her.”
It could be the red from the setting sun casting a hue on his face, or he could be about to blow a fuse. I’m going to wager the latter.
