Page 40 of Muscle Cub

“I was gonna say we should hook up back in town,” Lance said, “but it’s pretty obvious you and your muscle cub are…” He seemed reluctant to label it. I was caught between wishing he could and feeling relieved he didn’t. “Anyway, I’m not enough of a bastard to get in the way of that. See ya around.”

I had everything arranged on the ground in the order in which I wanted it put in the truck when Austin showed up with a cold Gatorade. The drink was thoughtful in a surprisingly complex way. Not having the foresight, I’d already dumped the ice out of my cooler, and all my beverages were lukewarm.

Even though I was sweaty, Austin kissed me. “Looks like you got most of it done.”

“I just have to cart it all to the truck.”

“I’ll help you.” Austin hooked a thumb over his shoulder. “Lemme run over and turn the music on and make sure there’s nobody waiting at the bar wanting something.”

“I understand you’re working—”

“We’ll be walking back and forth right through the pool complex. It’s okay.” He pulled me in for another kiss. Which one would finally be the last? “I’ll be right back.”

He was gone longer than I thought he’d be. I was afraid he’d gotten sidetracked or pulled into something, and he wasn’t coming back. Leaving without getting to see him would definitely be worse than having to say goodbye.

I grabbed a single item and set off down the path, hoping I’d run into him at the bar. I’d take my time until it happened.

Austin finally caught up with me in the parking lot, already apologizing. Guests kept stopping him.

With his help, carrying my stuff to the truck took fewer trips than when I’d arrived.

That shouldn’t have been such a surprise, but it made it feel like I was leaving too fast.

I exchanged contact information with Grant and Rob. They told me to keep in touch on social media and to let them know next time I planned a trip.

Austin stood by at a polite distance while I hugged them goodbye. It was bittersweet.

I cast one last look at the site, ostensibly to confirm I wasn’t leaving anything behind but really to commit as much of it to memory as possible.

“You got lucky, you know,” Austin said.

Boy, did I ever. “What do you mean?”

“With the cursed campsite.”

“Oh, yeah. You never told me why it was cursed.”

“I thought I did.”

“You didn’t.”

“All the things that make this spot so ideal—the shade, the carpet of moss, the soft soil, the lack of rocks… This is the floodplain for the creek. And this particular spot—you see how the trail runs down through here? That path’s not worn by foot traffic. It’s actually carved out by water runoff. When it rains heavily, even before the creek floods, the path becomes a parallel stream. And your campsite is right where the trail and the creek both bend. The water doesn’t bend, though, it heads straight for the creek, so…”

“The entire holler floods down through this campsite.”

“Bingo.”

“Why would you let me risk that?”

“What’s the worst thing that could happen? I mean, don’t get me wrong, packing up a wet campsite can suck—”

“You think?”

“There was this one time last year when it fucking poured right on the day everybody was trying to pack up and get out of here. Your only option when that happens is to pack under your tarp and take it down last. The night before, everybody heard the forecast but not every site has the right tree cover for hanging a tarp. The tents were packed pretty close together of course, so once it really started coming down, somebody got the idea to just start connecting all the tarps, and it caught on. Everybody was pitching in, and it became this big group engineering project. It was cool. It was weirdly kind of a blast. The sense of being in it together, not only man against nature but a team of guys all on the same side making it happen. I don’t know if it would have gone down the same way on the first day. You like to think there’s a sense of community the minute you set foot on the property, but after a whole weekend of partying together, it was a moment of, like… spontaneous democracy. Socialism, maybe? I can tell by the look on your face I’m not using the right terms. But you know what I’m saying, right? Brotherhood.”

I nodded. I did. Or I had a pretty good idea. Now.

“Anyway, we ended up with this one huge tarp, like a patchwork ceiling over the entire camping area. And everybody was crammed in under it, packing. Some people fled as soon as they could, but they left their tarps behind for the cause. And a lot of guys stayed working until everybody who needed to got out with their shit as dry as possible.”