“I got a campsite for us at Devil’s Fork, but we have to stay for a minimum of two nights. I told them two was fine.” Elliot pockets his phone as he gets back into the car. The rest stop isn’t packed, but there are enough people around that sitting in the car has kept me entertained while the boys have been doing their business.
“I’ll pay you back for the campsite,” I say, and I mean it. I’ve never expected anything from anyone.
Elliot smiles and starts the car, the beauty mark next to his ear raising a little in the process. “Just fill up the next tank and we’ll be even.”
Cline rushes across the parking lot, still zipping his pants, practically tripping over himself before he launches his large body into the car. “I got tapped.”
“What?” I turn in my seat to look at his face and he’s gone almost completely white, sweat beads trickling from beneath his stupid hat.
“I was taking a shit and the guy next to me tapped my foot. He TAPPED MY FOOT.”
“Maybe he just had a wide spread,” Elliot offers as he begins to reverse out of the parking lot.
“Maybe there was a glory hole in the wall that I was unaware of. Don’t act like you don’t know about the tap at rest stops.” He slides sideways and rests his head on the pillow he has in the backseat, tipping his hat forward in the process. He’s breathing heavy, and his cheeks are bright red, but after about a full minute of silence he shrugs and pulls out his phone. “I don’t really blame him, though. I mean … look at me. I’m ridiculously good looking.”
I start to say something, but Elliot’s hand on my knee stops me. He has a wry grin on his face and closes his eyes for a second while he shakes his head like I should just leave it. So I do. Because I trust this boy and I have no idea why.
Devil’s Fork is, in a word, gorgeous. The campsite is small and on the water, close enough to the bathrooms that I could find them without a flashlight, but far enough away that I don’t smell them being downwind. Lake Jacosse spreads out before us, peaceful and astoundingly clear. I’m on the edge of the water, taking in how different this is from the ocean we were just staring at around six hours ago. The boys are setting up the eight man tent directly behind me, and there’s another small popup tent to my left that looks empty at the moment, leaving my mind to wonder about its inhabitants.
“Where is this rock that your mom jumped off of?” Cline calls from his lazy stance, holding one of the rods while Elliot threads it through the loops at the base of the tent.
I shrug and point off into the distance. “We need a way to get over there to the waterfall.” Wendy’s diary says that she snuck into the park after hours and found a group of people her age sitting around drinking and just asked if she could stay with them. They were the ones with the boat. Her entire rebellion hinged on the fact that people weren’t going to murder her.
My once-best-friend comes to stand next to me and crosses his arm, his large frame blocking out the sunlight coming through the trees. “Do we have a boat?”
“No.”
“Were you planning on getting a boat?”
“There are ways.”
He nods in my periphery and sighs like he’s about to say something really shitty when the water at our feet begins to ripple and wave, coming in at rougher intervals, and then we hear the sound of a boat drop into a lower gear. I think we both see her at the same time. She’s golden-tan, raven haired, and wearing one of the smallest pink bikinis I’ve seen in a really long time. That’s saying something, because my bedroom has a view of one of the student apartment pools off campus.
The wind is making her hair fly everywhere, and she lifts her sunglasses to the top of her head to secure her tresses like a headband then offers a friendly smile and wave as she continues on to the dock to our left.
Cline is speechless as I look up at his face, suppressing the urge to reach over and close his mouth for him.
“Did your entire life just flash before your eyes? Wedding, babies, white picket fence?” I ask and hold back a smile as he blinks his way back into reality.
“What? No. It was more like topless, in a tent, on her back.”
“You’re disgusting.”
His eyes meet mine and he holds my gaze as he speaks the next words so that they’ll hit me straight in the gut. “Every guy does it. Ask Elliot how many times he’s closed his eyes and pictured you naked recently.”
I turn and walk away before he says anything else, my throat suddenly tight and stomach twisted with worry. It’s possible he’s right, but it doesn’t mean anything. It doesn’t have to mean anything.