“Or annoyingly stubborn.”
“Maybe a little of that too. But it’s a charming and admirable flavor of stubborn, so I’ll allow it. Now come on. We’ve got a few more essentials to grab. I’m going to get you some thermal base layers and an insulated hoodie. I know you’re gonna get cold once the sun goes down. I’ve seen how you cocoon yourself in the entire linen closet at home.”
“That’s because you keep the temperature at cryogenic storage levels.”
“Sixty-seven degrees is a perfectly acceptable temperature.”
“It’s an ice box. I’m one draft away from getting frostbite in the shower.”
“Look, you can always add more blankets or layers of clothing. I, however, can only remove so much clothing before it becomes inappropriate.”
“So, I’m supposed to look like I’m on an expedition on Rainier every single day because you’re a self-regulating furnace? Itolerated it in the summer, but as we move into the colder months I’m going to have to object.”
“Alright, maybe we can negotiate a compromise for seventy degrees.”
“Seventy-two degrees and a heated blanket.”
“Done,” I said, reaching out to shake his hand. “I’ll have this notarized and submitted to the official housemate agreement immediately.”
Chapter 18
Luke
The city hadn’t yet woken up as we merged onto the highway the next morning, the roads clear. By mid-morning, we reached the trailhead that led to our reserved site, and I drove down a gravel access path flanked by towering trees, pulling into a small clearing tucked up against the edge of a gurgling river.
“Well,” I said, stretching as I stepped out. “Ready to set up our temporary kingdom?”
Oliver stood beside me, head tilted back to look at the swaying pines. “Yeah. Let’s do it.”
“Alright, first order of business, location scouting. This is crucial, and since this is your first time as a forest-dweller, I bestow upon you the sacred honor of choosing where our noble abode shall rise.”
He walked in slow circles before finally pointing to a patch.
“An excellent selection. Good drainage. Minimal root intrusion. Ample shade. A riverside view. Well done, but the true test still awaits. You’ve proven you can choose a fine plot for our tent, but can you pitch one?”
“The only tent I’ve ever pitched, I’m pretty sure, isn’t the kind you’re asking about.” He paused as if processing what he’d said. “I mean um... that is to say...” A flush rose to his cheeks.
It took me a couple of beats to catch up, instant-replaying the conversation.
Oh.
Ohh.
That’s what had him all flustered. Damn, it was kinda cute.
Innuendo and me, we’ve got an interesting relationship. Half the time it flies right past me, especially if my brain is focused on something else and not expecting the situation to drop one. But once it lands, I can roll with the best of ’em. In fact, sex jokes are funny to me. They’ve always felt safe, impersonal. Since I can’t always relate to the specifics, it makes it less awkward on my end and a hell of a lot easier to laugh at. Seeing Oliver still bumbling, I took pity on him.
“Yeah, not quite the same, though this will involve poles.” I handed him one of the bundled tent poles. “Different stakes, though. Literally and figuratively. This involves more structural integrity. Though I suppose both pursuits share a need for tension, a little push pull, and the occasional grunt.”
His blush deepened to a shade that could heat the hot cocoa I planned for us to have this evening. “Yes, well, I can only hope this endeavor proves far less compromising than some of my past tent-pitching scenarios. Fewer flushed cheeks and no accidental witnesses would be ideal.”
“Well, I can’t promise no flushed cheeks, that’s somewhat weather dependent and exertion related, but barring the occasional woodland creature, I can confidently assure you there’ll be no unsuspecting witnesses to your tent pitching, aside from me, but I won’t judge. As the expert tent pitcher, I’m only here to help you get it up right.”
“I cannot believe I walked myself right into this conversation,” he mumbled. “Moving on, before this becomes more awkward. Why don’t you show me what to do?”
“You got it,” I said with a light laugh.
The tent took shape in stages, first as a sagging suggestion of shelter, then a proud little dome. We drove the last stakeinto the moss-soft earth and cinched the guy lines. “Behold, our home away from home,” I said. “Congratulations! You have now completed the first trial of your outdoor initiation. May your path henceforth be paved with secured rainflies and critter-free sleeping bags.”
