“Youwere supposed to get the archaeology degree,” I reminded him.
“That’s what audiobooks are for,” he said, tapping his temple. “All my education is free. Hell, I’ve even listened to a book about climate change by one of your fancy professors—what do you think of that?”
None of my art history professors had written books about climate change, but I could tell when Seb was getting defensive, and I wasn’t interested in fighting. So I just said, “I think it’s great.”
He gave me an odd look, then shut his mouth and started laying out one of the tents.
“Hey,” Jaz said. “Weren’t there four tents? I only see two. Did we forget a couple?”
Benny stuck his head inside the back of the Land Rover. “Holy shit, you’re right. There’s only two. Who loaded up the tents?”
“We did,” I said, as confused as they were. “I could’ve sworn we loaded all four.”
“Guess we didn’t,” Seb said, sounding a little annoyed. “It’s fine. We can just double up, girls in one tent, boys in the other.”
We could, and itwasfine. But it was also odd because I really didn’t understand where the other tents went.
On top of that, I didn’t understand his plummeting mood. Which was funny, because now that we were “roomies,” I understood him less and less. One minute he was whispering about no rules, and the next, he was erecting invisible walls around himself.
I tried not to let it bother me, to just allow myself to be in the moment and have a good time with my friends. We erected both tents and got the rest of the campsite set up. Walked around the camping grounds and inspected the showering facilities—mostly clean. When dusk fell, we got a big fire going and roasted hot dogs that Jazmine had nabbed from Patty’s food truck. And we planned exactly where we’d drop in our paddleboards along the river so that we could travel down it to the old military ruins in the morning.
After we realized we needed more ice for the cooler, Seb left the camp to drive the Land Rover to buy a bag at a nearby gas station because they were out at the pavilion. While he was gone, I was goofing around with Jaz near the creek behind our campsite and the ankle I hurt in the flooded cave earlier this month gave out on me, causing me to fall and get muddy. At first, I thought I’d reinjured myself, but the ankle was okay; it was just my pride that was injured, looking like a klutz. Which put me in sour mood.
It only worsened when Seb returned from the ice run. He seemed to be avoiding my eyes and even got up and moved to the other side of the picnic table when I sat next to him. I didn’t understand, and it made me feel powerless and anxious. I couldn’t handle how hot and cold he was.
When I could walk without ankle weakness again, I left the Wags making up silly ghost stories around the fire and hiked toward the campers’ pavilion to wash dried mud off my legs.
A couple of people were inside the lounge, watching TV, but the showers were empty. I grabbed a few paper towels from the dispenser on the wall and took them into one of the shower stalls. There was a button inside that you had to push every thirty seconds to keep the water on—I assumed to conserve water consumption. I balled up the towels and wet them and made a washrag and stuck my legs under the spray of water to wipe away the mud.
When I finished, I washed my hands and headed back through the TV lounge, only to find Seb sitting in one of the seats near the entrance to the showers, scrolling on his phone. He looked up at me with big eyes when I approached.
“What are you doing here?” I asked. “Where’s Punkin?”
“At camp.” He stood up and glanced back at one of the other two people in the lounge, a grim-looking teenager. “I left my wallet in the Land Rover and saw you come in here. So I’m just making sure you didn’t get kidnapped by some Ted Bundy wannabe.”
“Chivalrous,” I told him, and walked outside the pavilion.
The door opened and closed behind me as I walked down the steps. Seb caught up with me. “What’s eating you?”
“Nothing. You didn’t need to rescue me from potential serial killers. I can take care of myself, you know. I’ve been doing just fine for the last year.”
“Don’t doubt that,” he said, matching his stride to mine as we headed down the lit path through the trees that led past the RV spots to the tent section of the camping grounds. “But it doesn’t explain why you’re being a jerk.”
“I’m not being a jerk.”
“Okay... ?”
I stopped in the path near a tree and turned on him. “Okay, fine. I’m being a jerk because you’re ignoring me and I don’t understand why.”
“I’m not ignoring you. We’re talking right now. And we live together, hello? See each other every day.”
“Right,” I said tartly, struggling to control a storm of dark emotions. “Sure.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
I didn’t answer him, just turned my back and kept walking to a fork in the path marked by a bench. The left fork would take me to our campsite. But Seb stopped me when I rounded the bench, coming around me to step into the middle of the path with his arms out like a roadblock.
“Stop,” he said firmly. “I can’t read your thoughts, Paige. Or maybe I’m just dumb. Because I can’t understand where any of this is coming from. Did you hit your head when you fell in the creek?”
