“No, your arms and legs are safe. It might be itchy later, but this cream will help, and if you need more…” She turns to look at me as I finish.
“Ireallyhate camping,” she reiterates.
“I know, Hellcat.” It takes everything in me not to fix the stray hairs that fly around her pretty face. I want to thank her for coming out here, even though she hates it. She’s out here for me, and I recognize the effort, the care. It’s whether or not she’s out here as my friend that has me confused. Every line I make in the sand seems to get destroyed by her, stomping around and making a mess. “Hey, you want s'mores for dinner?”
“S’mores for dinner?” She narrows her eyes at me like I’m playing a trick on her. "That feels way too fun for you."
“It’s a Boone special,” I tell her and wander from the tent.
“That makes so much more sense,” she scoffs.“How did he make s'mores special?”
“Grab the crackers from the bag,” I tell Daisy, and her face lights up with excitement when she realizes what we’re doing. I slide the cooleracross the table and pop open the lid, digging inside for the two bags markeds’moresin Boone’s disgusting handwriting.
I hand them to her, and she starts to dig inside with a confused face, “Where’s the chocolate?” she asks, almost disappointed.
“Here,” Daisy holds it up with a smile.
Inside the bags are packages of precut cheese and meats.
“Cheese and cracker s’mores?” she questions, finally catching on.
“Uncle B’s favorite,” Daisy coos, and hands me the box of crackers. “Dad doesn’t like chocolate and complains a bunch about it, so we came up with this.”
“I do not,” I scowl at her, but she gives me a sharp glare that silently wins the argument.
“You don’t like chocolate?” Rhea laughs, finding it all amusing.
“Nope.” I take the bag from her and set everything out on a plate before stacking some of the ingredients together. I show her how to do it so the cheese melts around the meat and holds everything together. “Yeah, don’t let it burn,” I say to her as she starts chatting to Daisy without a care in the world for what she’s doing.
“I need the bathroom,” Daisy declares, swiping a lamp off the table, and Rhea offers to go with her, but she points to the shadows of the bathroom building in the distance. “It’s close. I’ll be okay.”
Rhea nods, her worry dissipating as Daisy wanders off into the night and becomes nothing but a little firebug with her lantern in the distance. I wrap my hand around Rhea’s and take it from her, pulling her skewer back from the fire. She watches me carefully as I tug it out of the cheese gently before putting my hand beneath it to prevent it from dripping on her skin as I hold it out to her.
“Careful,” I warn, but she’s not listening and burns her lip with a tiny inhale of pain. “Impatient.” I scold, leaning in slowly to inspect her lip, I run my finger over it without thinking, and blow gently to apply some cool air to it. Rhea’s eyes flicker to mine, the fire dancing behind them, and she freezes with a tiny smile.
“It’s hot,” she exhales, and a laugh trickles from her as she takes the smore, and my hand falls away from her face.
“Yeah, well, I warned you.” I shake my head, our faces still close together.
“You said be careful,” she teases, “that does not indicate that it’s hot enough to burn me.”
“That’s exactly what that means, Hellcat.” I scoff.
“Okay, well—next time talk to me like I’m a toddler,” she purrs, her eyes trickling down my face to my lips so slowly it causes my heart to race uncomfortably.
“You are a toddler,” I manage to say.Don’t kiss her, you idiot.
Rhea licks her bottom lip to soothe the burn.
Okay, maybe kiss her…
The air is tight, and the sound of the fire cracking and popping in the distance is the only thing reminding me that the world is still spinning, and time hasn’t completely stopped.
Just one. If she pushes you away, it’s fine, you’ve just ruined the first real friendship you’ve made outside your siblings in the last ten years.
“Rhea,” her name comes off my lips, and her entire body goes still at the sound.
If she doesn’t push you away, it might just be the best thing you’ve ever done on impulse. Are we impulsive, though? No. Not about this.
