Chapter 23
Stevie
“Raccoon,” I mumble.
Click.
“Raccoon.”
Click.
“Oooh, deer!”
Click.
I sigh. “Raccoon.”
Like last time, the trail cameras have mostly captured raccoons, deer, and the occasional hiker. It was a busy week in the preserve, though, and I’m only halfway through the photos.
My first-ever sasquatch tour ended around nine, but Adam and I weren’t ready to go separate ways. Luckily, the full SD cards made an easy excuse.
Now we’re curled up on my yellow couch. I’m stretched out sideways, my tired legs draped across his while I work. I can’t help but spy on him over the top of his laptop while I click through the trail footage. His eyelids look heavy while he scrolls on my TV, his sock-covered feet propped on the coffee table. He’s just socute, gravely searching my Netflix account and resting his free hand on my knee.
The best word to describe Adam is cozy. I can’t believe how comfortable I am with him. He’s peaceful and refreshing, like steady rain on the parched ground of my life. And I’ve absorbed him greedily.
I can tell he’s wiped out, though. He is an early riser, I’ve learned, and he seems overtired after a few late nights in a row with me. He’s been yawning since we got to my house, but when I call him on it, he brushes it off and pretends to be alert.
He wants to be with me, I think, and my heart thumps erratically.
A familiar voice comes from the TV.
“Is this okay?” Adam asks, nodding to the nineties sitcom on the screen.
It’s an episode ofSeinfeldI’ve seen so often I could recite it from memory. “Perfect,” I murmur. It’s the ideal mindless show to play in the background while we track down poachers and Bigfoot.
“I like this. It’s like having an assistant.” He drops the remote, tipping his head back and relaxing into the cushions. He sighs. “Let me know if you see anyone with a shotgun.”
I sniff. “You’remyassistant.”
He strokes a lazy line over my kneecap with his thumb. “How do you figure?” he asks, his voice deep and teasing.
“You assisted on my tour tonight,” I point out, clicking to the next photo.
He chuckles. “I supervised a group of delusional guys and their ringleader in my preserve.”
“That isn’t very Team Bigfoot of you, Adam.” I pull my legs away.
He drags my legs back into place with a soft growl. “That’s because I’m Team Stevie.”
My heart thrums. “Yes. You are. It’s almost like”—I settle against him again—“you’re myassistant.”
Adam laughs, and I click to the next photo. What on earth?
“No.” I close one eye to protect my innocence, scrolling quickly to the next photo, but it only gets worse. “Oh,ew.” I shudder.
“What?” Adam straightens.
I’ve already seen too much. “Kevin.” I mutter his name like a curse.
