Love, Lust, and Other Mistakes (11 page)

Nikole laughs
amicably. “I can’t believe you almost forgot about that stuff. That was like
the
reason you wanted to go camping.”

Troian zealously rips open the plastic bag and fishes out two marshmallows.
 “Want me to roast them for you?” she offers.

Hunter hops up and grabs
one of the long, metal roasting forks. “No, I’ve got it.”

“Are my marshmallows not good enough for you?” Troia
n demands with a small stomp.

“Uh, your marshmallows are plenty fine
for me,” Hunter quickly appeases. “I just...I like roasting them myself. I haven’t done this since I was a kid.”

Troian looks
satisfied with the answer and settles back down next to her girlfriend.  She sighs contentedly and rests her head on Nikole’s shoulder, and the two continue to gaze into the fire.

I can’t
help but watch Hunter as she carefully and patiently toasts her marshmallow.  I’ve always believed you can tell a lot about a person by the way they cook their marshmallows. I know it’s an odd thought, but I honestly believe it.  Some people like theirs burnt and hastily shove them into the hottest part of the fire until they explode into flames.  I think that type of marshmallow toasting seems like a waste though.  I remember cringing as a child as my friends would haphazardly wave their flaming marshmallows around in the sky, constantly fearful that the gooey mess would let go of the toasting stick and burn someone.

Hunter, however, i
s not one of those kind of marshmallow roasters.  I watch her deliberately pick a careful spot in the fire, far enough from the flickering flames to not catch the gelatin puff on fire, but close enough to the hot coals to actually roast the marshmallow.  She waits patiently for the surface area of the marshmallow to toast a caramel-colored hue, and then rotates the stick slightly to offer up the next area for cooking.  

This pat
ient, careful strategy continues until, finally satisfied, she removes the marshmallow from the flames.  She brings the stick close to her face, inspecting her work in the dark.  Then she slowly plucks the toasted goo from the roasting pole and pops the finished product into her open mouth.

I watch, completely enamored. I
don’t want to, but watching her careful ministrations immediately remind me of how it had once been between us.  I had expected her to be timid. Hesitant and unsure. I’m not sure where those assumptions had come from, minus Hunter’s often awkward behavior in class.  One-on-one is when she had always seemed to find a surprising confidence.  

I also, unfortunately for my sanity, ca
n’t help but draw comparisons between Hunter’s attentiveness to her marshmallow and the attentiveness and care she had shown in bed.  Watching the slow twisting of marshmallow over volatile flame brought to mind memories of how she had laved attention before turning me over and over again.

“You okay ov
er there, Elle?” Nikole asks.

“Huh
?”

She raises
an eyebrow. “You’re awfully quiet,” she observes.

I duck my
head, sure I’ve been caught. Nikole’s always been dangerously perceptive and intuitive. I cough once to mask my unease. “Sorry. Just...just thinking is all.”

“Uh, you guys,” Troian sud
denly and nervously announces.

“What is it, hun?” Nikole asks
, turning her attention to the girl beside her.

“I have to pee.”

Nikole snorts. “You
really
didn’t think this camping thing out, did you?

“It’s not funny!” Troian whines. “What am I supposed to do?!”

“It’s called peeing in the woods,” I note, smirking.

“There is
no way
I’m going to do that,” she protests.

Nikole quirks
an eyebrow. “Well then? What are you doing to do?”

Troian bit
es her bottom lip. “I’ll just hold it,” she whimpers.

Nikole stands abruptly. “Come on,” she sighs
dramatically. “Stand up.  I’ll go with you.”

Troian looks
up at her girlfriend, blinking.

“
Up
,” Nikole says, this time with more authority. “And bring your phone. You can use it as a flashlight.”

I watch the two
stumble off into the darkness.  I’m momentarily amused until I remember that without my two friends as a buffer, I’m now
alone
with Hunter.

The fire crackles
, unsettlingly filling the silence that should feel comfortable. But it doesn’t. I fiddle with the buttons on my phone, giving me something to do.

Her
soft voice cuts through the tense silence: “Do you want a marshmallow?”

I look up from my useless
phone.  Hunter’s beautiful features stare keenly at me.  Her normally angelic face looks even more ethereal, illuminated by the glow of the campfire.

“No, I’m...I’m fine,” I say
with a quick shake of my head.

“Not e
ven for a s’more?” she presses.  “I think Troian will be disappointed in us if we don’t at least have one.”

I find my
self smiling. “Well, if it’ll make Troian happy, I guess I can have
one
s’more.”

Hunter grins and stands
up from the fire to grab the s’more supplies.  When she returns, I can’t help notice how much closer she sits next to me.

She offers me
a marshmallow, but I hold up my hand. “No. You do it. You seem to have a knack for it.”

She says nothing, but returns
her gaze to the fire and diligently begins roasting another perfectly cooked marshmallow.  

“You cook them just the way I like them,”
I murmur more to the fire than to her.

She mak
es a humming noise of approval, but offers no other words.  When she’s once again satisfied with the marshmallow, she pulls it from the stick, leaving behind a few strands of thick, gooey, fluff.  I watch her carefully assemble the s’more, delicately laying the marshmallow between two squares of graham cracker and a slice of chocolate. Everything she does is graceful, deliberate; everything, including assembling a s’more.

She sti
cks her arm out, the s’more lying flat on her palm. “Here you go, Professor—”

“Don’t,” I sharply interrupt
. “I’ve told you a million times to call me Elle,” I say in a quiet, but even tone. “Heaven knows, we’re beyond the traditional student and teacher relationship.”  I take the offered snack and squish the two grahams together, forcing gooey white puff to spill out the sides. I bite into the s’more, the marshmallow more gooey than before. I can feel the sticky stuff at the corners of my lips.

She chuckles
quietly. “You’re a mess.”

“You’re the one who made such a damn messy s’more,”
I protest.  I reach up to wipe at my mouth, but a hand on my knee causes me to pause.

“Here,”
she says softly. “Let me help you.”   Her hand reaches for me, fingers outstretched and targeted on my lips.

The sound of someone cra
shing through the forest alerts us. “You guys!” comes Troian’s excited voice.

Hunter jerks
her hand away from me, as if burned by the fire.

I sigh and pull
away, too. “What?” I ask, somewhat deflated.

“I found a
signal!
” Troian cheers triumphantly.

“Good for you, Troi,” I chuckle.
“I’m happy for you.”

             
                                                                                    +++++
“Are you done yet, Troi?” The annoyance in Nikole’s voice is palpable.

“Almost!” com
es Troian’s suddenly cheerful voice.  

Hunter chuckles
. “I can’t believe she’s relocating your tent to where she found a cell phone signal.”

Nikole snorts and pokes
at the dying fire with a stick, causing red ash to spark into the night sky. “My girlfriend,” she mutters, “the internet junkie.”

Troian tromps back to the campfire and si
ts back down next to her girlfriend.  She rearranges Nikole’s free arm so it’s wrapped around her shoulders, allowing her to snuggle into her side.

Nikole, despite her annoyance, k
isses the top of Troian’s head. “Happy?” she mumbles into Troian’s dark hair.

“Mmmhmm,” the other girl hums happily as she snuggles deeper.

A bright flash fills the night sky, immediately followed by the sharp crack of thunder.

“Shit,” I curse
. The dark sky is illuminated by another, but less ferocious bolt of lightning. “Was it supposed to rain tonight?” I wonder out loud.

Troian frowns
. “No.  I checked the weather report before we left.”

Another crack of thunder
rumbles through the campsite.

Nikole looks up to
the sky. “Something tells me we’re in for a big storm.”

Troian clings
to her girlfriend’s shirt and looks into the sky as well. “But I checked the weather!” she protests.

The sky fills
with bright white again, quickly followed by another rumble.  We hear the rain before we feel it. The four of us hastily jump to our feet and quickly gather whatever we can.  The rain is quick and unexpected, and in no time, we’re practically soaked through.

Nikole holds
her arm around her girlfriend, trying to shelter Troian’s smaller body from the brunt of the downpour.  “We’re gonna head to our tent and call it a night,” she calls over the sound of rain pouring down on trees.

Hunter and I both nod our assent and take off to our
respective tents.

I quickly unzipped my tent and hop
in, securely fastening the zipper closed behind me.  I breathe a sigh of relief when I’m finally out of the rain.  Thankfully my tent is kind of high-tech for a two-person pop-up and has a battery-operated overhead light affixed at the top.  I turn on the lamp and inspect my things to be sure nothing besides myself has gotten wet from the unexpected downpour. Satisfied, I peel off my damp clothes and put on a dry tank top and pair of running shorts to sleep in.

Outside
my tent, I can hear the distinct sound of shuffling and muffled curses.  I don’t think anything of it until I hear Hunter’s voice, loud and clear, just outside my tent door.

“
Um, Elle?”

“Hunter?”
 

I
partially unzipped the front and am surprised to see Hunter standing outside.   The rain had stopped; if anything, it’s now raining harder than before.

“What are you doing?” I ask
.

She stan
ds, shivering, her teeth practically chattering. “Th-there’s a l-leak in my tent,” she sputters out. “All of my things are s-s-soaked, and I can’t f-f-find my car keys.”

I open
the tent flap the rest of the way. “Get in here,” I order.

She dutifully ducks her head and climbs
into the dry tent. I zip up the door once she’s all the way in.  

Hunter crawls
to one side of the tent, but since it’s not
that
big of a tent, she’s not really that far away.  Her clothes are soaked through and her ponytail is limp against the back of her neck.  Even her mascara is running down her cheeks.

I rummage through my
overnight bag and pull out a bath towel. I hadn’t anticipated needing to shower just for one weekend in the woods, but I’d brought it along in case we decided to go swimming in the lake.  “Here,” I say. “Try to dry off.”             

She accepts
the towel and roughly rubs at her face. She pulls her ponytail free from its hair band and ruffles through her damp hair, fluffing it until it sticks out at odd angles.  I have to bite back a laugh. Hunter looks so polished and put together all the time, but now she looks every bit as ridiculous as the situation feels.

“Thank you,”
she says, her embarrassment only slightly mollified.

“
Do you want a change of clothes?” I offer. “It’s going to be awfully uncomfortable being in those wet ones after a while.”

Hunter sha
kes her head. “No, it’s okay. I’ll just wait until the rain lets up a little and then go back to looking for my keys, if that’s okay.  I can spend the night in my car.”

“Don’t be ridiculous
,” I protest. “You can sleep in here.  This tent is plenty big enough.”

Hunter’s eyes flicker
toward the door as if looking for the nearest exit. “I don’t think that would be a good idea,” she murmurs.

“Hunter.
” I say her name sharply. “Just sleep here tonight.  You’re making me feel like a mom,” I deadpan. “I hate feeling like a mom.”