“Finally going to join the party, Hayes?” Derrick shouts up to me from the river, causing Mira to whip her head back to find me. Her entire body stiffens in annoyance as she quickly turns her gaze back towards the river.
I ignore Derrick, my heart already pounding in my ears with nervousness.
“Do you have your emergency kit with you?” I ask Mira, hoping she can’t see through my false confidence.
“Why?” Her mouth hardens into a thin line as she clutches her camera bag tighter, as if I might take it by force.
“I’m trying to find some fresh food and I’m ninety-nine percent sure your kit has what I need.”
Studying me, she turns her attention towards Vanessa, who gives her an enthusiastic nod of approval, and she relents.
“I will be doing inventory after,” she says, handing me her bag, “so go ahead and expect an invoice for any items missing.”
“Understood,” I say, unzipping it. She told me once that her bag rivaled Mary Poppins’s and I have to admit I’m impressed. Although it lacks collapsible cutting boards or foldable silicone measuring cups like mine, it is stocked with everything I need to finish my project.
Mira watches me bend a safety pin back quizzically.
“You really think that’s going to work?” she asks as I wrap the thread from her sewing kit around the metal until it attaches, creating a makeshift fishing lure. “My father’s been taking me on fishing trips since I could walk. One time I accidentally threw all our lures off the side of the boat and we all had to learn a valuable lesson in improvisation,” I say, slipping into the confident man she’s accustomed to. “And considering I saw a school of trout on the way down, I’m not too worried about coming up empty-handed.”
Mira raises her eyebrows, impressed, and the fact she’s even looking at me is enough to boost my ego. Taking a sturdy stance next to her, I cast my line into the water and wait for the familiar tug on the other end.
God, I need this to work.
The water is flowing steadily, and I spot a school of trout traveling in our direction up ahead. I only have a small window of opportunity to catch as many as I can. Unlike professional rods, where I can slowly reel them in, I have to be quick about it, yanking the fish out of the water the second I feel tension. Unwilling to fuck this up, I prepare a backup rod just in case. I say a silent prayer to the water gods, as I wait for a bite on the line. It only takes a few minutes before the rod closest to me goes tense and I jerk it up, displaying a pink-and-blue striped fish attached to the end. I let out a breath, detaching the rainbow trout from the line. It wobbles on the shore, as Vanessa, Adrian, and a few of the other party members clap in appraisal behind me. But Mira’s slow clap is the only sound I pay attention to.
“Impressed?” I ask, wiping my hands on my pants, my palms scratched from the wooden rod.
“Depends,” she replies, peering down to inspect my catch. “Are you really going to be able to cook that?”
“Oh yeah. All I need is some tinfoil and a little salt and pepper.”
She raises her eyebrow skeptically. I can feel the ice between us defrosting as I push her goodwill a little further.
“Want to help?”
I know she’s about to refuse my offer, but Vanessa comes to my aide.
“Go,” Vanessa says, pushing Mira towards me. “He might need to use some of those condiments you have left in your bag.”
“Fine,” she caves and my heart flutters. “But if you call yourself a grill master, I’m out.”
“Totally fair,” I reason, holding my hands up.
“Can you grab me one of those aluminum trays?” I ask, sending her away for long enough for me to handle the more gruesome details of the process, offering the animal a swift death.
There’s a faint smile on her face when she returns, carrying several empty containers.
“I didn’t know how many you’d need,” she offers, handing them over.
“One will be fine,” I say, putting the fish inside and making my way over to the grill.
“I heard you were over here showing off your skills,” Katherine says, inspecting my bounty, and I know whatever ground I’ve recovered with Mira has just been swept away. “Isn’t he just so talented?” she continues, her hand giving me an almost territorial squeeze. “My little mountain man.”
She says the last phrase in a mock baby voice and Mira’s eyes roll so far back, I barely see the hazel of her irises.
“Oh yeah, he’s a real Christopher McCandless,” Mira replies through gritted teeth, referencing the nomadic college student fromInto the Wild. “Make sure he forages dessert too. I think I saw some nice berry bushes over by the tree line.”
“Really?” Katherine asks, not getting the reference. Her idea of casual reading is scrolling TikTok before bed.
