by Lucy Eden
“How”
She lifted herself up above Emme’s face, “I guess it was in the cards.”
About The Author
Sarah E. Lily
Sarah E. Lily is a Queer, romance-writing, tattoo-wearing woman, and is rather proud of it. Since writing her first story in the 4th grade - a funny little piece about an all girls boarding school - she hasn’t stopped dreaming and imagining in story form yet. Sarah’s hope for her own work is that it shows people there is no need for shame or guilt when it comes to desires. Everyone deserves to see themselves in a happily ever after no matter what that looks like. When she’s not bopping around New England with her family, she’s most likely reading something with vampires, practicing a bit of Tarot, or trying to perfect her mashed potato recipe.
About Romantic Intent
When Mat tries to take time out to think after getting fired from her job, she ends up at a campsite with a trunk full of supplies she doesn't know how to use. A mischievous puppy and a ruined tent end in a grudging partnership with Ryan, an experienced camper who wants nothing more than to lend a hand. But Mat isn't the best at accepting help, and she has enough on her plate without the attraction that begins to build between them. As a storm brews overhead, Mat has to come to terms with much more than temptation.
Romantic Intent
A.Z. Louise
Nature was not my preferred habitat. I've always been an indoor kid, more interested in exploring through a video game or my imagination as my Dungeon Master spun me an epic tale about elves or something, but sometimes a person needs a change of scenery. That was why I found myself pulling into the gravel parking area of a campsite on a Friday evening, my trunk full of gear and my stomach full of butterflies.
I already felt unprepared, and the sight of the parking lot only made things worse. Everyone who was unpacking their cars seemed to have forty times as much stuff as I did. Anxious, I almost started my car again to cut my escape, but I had always been more stubborn than I was scared.
Usually.
The second I got out of my car, I saw a dog, which I took as a good sign. Any day when you see a dog is a good day, especially when it's an excitable border collie who runs right toward you while you're taking stuff out of your trunk.
"Hey, puppy!" The words had barely come out of my mouth before the adorable little bastard lifted his leg and peed on my packed-up tent. "Oh no." I froze, arms hanging limp at my sides as I looked around for the dog's owner and spotted a white man jogging toward me.
"I'm so sorry," he said. "He's been cooped up in the truck and got overexcited about all the people. It's his first camping trip, isn't it, Basil? Here, I'll help you hose it off and set it up. I've got some beers if you –"
"Leave me alone," I said. "I don't need any help." But the pee had soaked right into the fabric, which had claimed to be waterproof. I could already feel the tears starting, and blinked up at the pale blue sky. I was trying to escape real life, and for a second I thought about just putting the tent in the trash and going home, but home was way worse than the pee tent at this point.
When I lowered my gaze, the dog was wagging at me, his owner still standing there staring at me. I scowled back at him, took in his auburn hair and freckles. Being mad made me feel less like I was going to cry.
"Um." He glanced down at my soaked tent. "Do you want to use my tent tonight? Until you can get to a store and get one that's a little more...weatherproof?"
"No. I do not." I turned away from him and grabbed my backpack, sleeping bag and cooler, meaning to leave the pee tent where it was. I had enough on my hands; I could deal with it later. Besides, being a Black woman alone in the wilderness (okay maybe not the wilderness, since town was like fifteen minutes away, but it was close enough), cozying up to some rando white guy was the best way I could think of to get murdered and dumped in a river or something.
"Come, on, it's a really nice one. You'll be cozy."
I rounded on him, no clue what I was going to say but sure it'd be rude. But he looked so earnest, and his little piss-demon was wagging his tail. And now that I thought about it, dead bodies in rivers didn’t have to pay bills, so maybe being marginally nice to him wasn’t all bad.
"How are you sure I won't just steal it?" I asked.
He shrugged. "I dunno. I'd probably deserve it. Come on, I'll help you set up."
I gritted my teeth over a groan. Just what I wanted, to spend more time with this jerk. But based on his massive, well-used backpack and overall ruggedness level, he looked like he actually knew what he was doing, so I put aside my annoyance (and murder worries) and followed him to his truck, and then to set up his tent.
I dropped all my stuff to help, but he began to set it up without even a glance at me. I hoped he couldn't tell that my Tent Plan had been to wing it, but his aggressive competence made me pretty sure he already knew. It also made me a hundred-percent sure I had gotten in over my head; I never would have been able to figure a tent out, let alone set it up on my own. I wasn’t exactly known for my grace.
I was left to try to stay out of the way while this large, capable man, who most likely knew that I was a complete mess, rescued me from myself. I really did want to feel grateful for his help, because I was definitely stubborn enough that I would have struggled with the tent for hours before I gave up and slunk home defeated. But somehow, this felt more like a huge L than trying it on my own.
At least if I messed it up on my own, I could escape under cover of night, and nobody would be there to bear witness to my failure. This dude was going to remember me, and probably have a laugh at my expense with his friends, and I was fully prepared to preemptively hate him.
"I'm Ryan, by the way," he said when he'd finished. He extended a hand, sure and steady, and I figured I could put off loathing him long enough for a handshake. Dude had really big hands, but soft, like he had a big bottle of lotion in his backpack. I had expected them to feel like shaking hands with my mechanic.
"Matilda. Call me Mat." It was instinct to tell people my nickname, even if I didn't like them, because I loathed Matilda. I had the paperwork to change it at home, but I'd never had the heart. It was my grandmother's name.
"You got a camp chair?" Ryan asked.
"Oh, hell."
"No?"
"I have one. It's just at home," I said, just so embarrassed. More embarrassed than I ever thought I could be. I was just proving that I was a disaster every time I spoke, and he was just acting like everything was fine after he butted into my camping trip.
"Be right back!" Ryan said cheerfully. He jogged off, his pee-monster at his heels. I was still annoyed at him, but he brought back two camp chairs tucked under his arms and opened a couple of beers. IPA, which I wasn't a fan of, but in this case, it really was the thought that counted. Before I'd finished my beer, he had a fire going and was cooking red hots.
Okay, so maybe he wasn't so bad after all. I was willing to turn around on the dog, at least. Basil was clearly a puppy, prancing around the fire and sniffing everything, peeing on every tree and bush in the area. He wolfed down his dinner at top speed while we ate, and had to be distracted from begging for red hots with rope toys. It was a good thing, because even after the Pee Incident, it was really hard to resist those sad puppy dog eyes. I probably would have given him half my dinner if he hadn’t been lured away.
After dinner, Ryan and Basil left for a walk, and I was relieved to be left alone for a while. That had been the whole point of this trip, and with some daylight left I could get caught up on reading. Though the leaves hadn’t started to turn, the days were getting shorter. Fall was my favorite time of year, and I was looking forward to wearing comfy, worn-in boots and snuggly scarves and drinking hot cider.
Caught up in daydreams, I’d completely forgotten the book that lay open in my lap. Once I’d started reading, though, I couldn’t stop thinking about real life lurking at the end of the weekend. The lists just formed in my head on their own. I needed to get into tru
e weekend relaxation mode and stop dwelling on looming unemployment, but thinking about my current situation came with its own set of worries.
I glanced across the campsite at Ryan’s stuff. It was clear that he was planning on staying there that night, which made sense since I was using half his gear. But it was also really weird to have some dude I barely knew sleeping ten feet away. I’d made peace with being murdered, but what if he snored? I’d die without getting a good night of weekend sleep first.
I was way more worried about my privacy and alone time, anyway, but when Ryan came back with Basil, he was carrying what looked like a smaller version of a hard guitar case. I resisted the urge to lean forward, instead watching him over the top of my book. I’d picked up ukulele a couple of years ago, and I couldn’t not snoop. He pulled out a mandolin, and started noodling around on it, obviously meaning to leave me alone. I watched him for a while, his fingers moving over the frets and making shadows dance across the warm, red-orange wood.
Ryan had clearly been playing for years, teasing out beautiful sounds without even paying close attention. The thought made a fraction of my annoyance return; I wasn’t consistent enough in my practice to ever be that good at ukulele. But the music was calming enough that I couldn’t muster the full anger I’d felt earlier in the day. In fact, the thought was exhausting. I turned my eyes back to my book, finally breaking away from the paragraph I’d tried to read over and over and moving on to the next one.
It turned out that nature was super noisy first thing in the morning. It was like every bird on Earth had decided to scream at the same time, and with no apartment walls to insulate me, it sounded like they were all yelling right into my ears. I'd been having such a nice sleep, cozy in my sleeping bag, and now I had to pee.
After a quick, ice-cold shower (plus the walk to and from the bathrooms), I was pissed off, and all I wanted was a hot coffee. Instead, I pulled a cold one out of my cooler. At least I'd been smart enough to bring those. I settled into the chair Ryan had lent me to fortify myself with caffeine before I... did camping things? Hike? Something.
Ryan, I realized, was nowhere to be seen. Basil must have been with him, wherever he was. He'd apparently rolled up his sleeping bag and taken last night's beer bottles with him. He kept everything really neat, which led me to believe he was some kind of alien. Who had the energy?
For the first time since I'd shut off my GPS yesterday, I checked my email. I felt kind of guilty doing it, since I'd told myself I was doing a self-care weekend. Immediate regret. An email from work. I didn't open it, and locked my phone, dropping it into the mesh cup holder.
"Hey, Mat. You okay?" Of course, Ryan had chosen that moment to return, and of course he looked concerned.
I looked away. I had never in my life been able to fix my face, and I couldn’t stand people acting all worried about me. It always made me completely fall apart. I just couldn’t keep my mouth shut under the gentle pressure of someone caring what was happening inside my head. Ryan was turning out to be the kind of person who would care enough to shatter my shaky calm.
"I’m fine." When I glanced back up at him, I noticed he hadn't shaved, a night's worth of dark beard stubble growing on his jaw. Oh no.
"I was gonna ask if you wanted coffee but hey, you remembered your own!" Ryan said. Any positive thoughts about his scruff fled, along with the wobbly feeling of being about to cry
"I'm forgetful, not a child," I snapped. It was actually a relief to be angry again.
"I didn't mean –"
"I don't care whether you meant it."
Ryan pulled out his own bottle of cold brew and sat down across the ashes of the fire from me. Basil jumped up in his lap, trampling Ryan and generally making himself a nuisance.
"Buddy, please, I’m trying to apologize. I'm sorry, Mat. I know you're new at this, but I'm not trying to be condescending. That was rude, and I'll do better."
I glanced up at him. His cheeks were pink, probably embarrassed at being such a jerk. I could have just told him to go to hell (it wasn't like I'd ever see him again), but I had never been camping in my entire life, and having someone around to help was actually really nice.
"It's okay," I said. "I am new at this."
"Basil and I are going on a hike today. Wanna come?" Ryan asked.
"How hard is it gonna be?" I asked. I worked in a cubicle and did spin classes on the weekend. I wasn't exactly prepared for a grueling trek through the woods.
"We can do one of the short trails. It'll be a nice walk, just enough to tire Basil out."
"Hmm." I looked at Basil. Border collies seemed to have infinite energy, and Basil was no exception.
"It'll be fun."
"Sure, why not." This dude was a pro at talking me into things. It was his earnest, hopeful smile that did it. The thought of wiping that smile – which I had to admit was cute as hell – off of his face was almost worse than bursting into tears in front of him. Almost. Cuteness could only get someone so far.
We had coffee and a quick breakfast before hitting the bug spray and filling up our water bottles and heading out. It was a gorgeous day, just past the turn from summer to fall. Warm enough that I didn't need a hoodie, but cool enough that I didn't feel like I was on death's sweaty doorstep after a few miles of walking.
The woods were overrun with cardinals, red wings flashing through the trees while they talked back and forth in the same sharp chirps that woke me up that morning. I hadn’t realized how loud it would be out here, picturing more of a still and silent Rivendell situation minus the elves. Ryan was only mildly Aragorn-ish, though the stubble helped.
Eventually we came to a stream crossed by a little bridge, and Ryan put out a hand to stop me before I could cross. Basil let out a sharp yip, and Ryan hissed through his teeth. Basil quieted, but he shook with excitement at the end of his leash.
"Look," Ryan whispered. I followed his dark-eyed gaze and saw the mama deer and her two adolescent fawns. They were almost as big as she was, but their limbs were gangly and awkward. They watched us watch them for a few long seconds, so still that Ryan could have told me they were statues and I would’ve believed him. The stream burbled along its course, and Basil whined, the tension in the air thick as a down comforter.
The deer must have decided we weren’t a threat, because they went back to grazing next to the stream, picking delicately at the plants that grew in the muddy place between water and land. They were close enough that I could see individual eyelashes and the movement of muscle under skin and fur. I barely breathed, afraid that any sound or movement would scare them away, though a bird in a nearby tree called so loud that I jumped. Ryan’s hand rested on my arm, still as the thick tree trunks that stood all around us.
Basil barked, startling all of us, and the deer bounded away into the woods, barely making a sound. My heart pounding, I looked at Ryan, and for a few seconds, we just stood looking at each other. He let go of my arm, breaking the spell, and a nervous laugh bubbled up in my chest.
"I’ve never seen deer up that close," I said. "They’re beautiful."
"Yeah. I guess I see them so often that I forgot how beautiful they are. I usually just keep walking," Ryan said.
"Why did you stop this time?" I asked. "I didn’t even notice they were there."
"I thought you’d want to see them." Ryan said. I felt weirdly touched, like we’d shared something special. That was ridiculous, of course. Deer were everywhere. They were practically a plague. But I clearly wasn’t in the habit of thinking like a normal human this weekend, so why stop being weird and dramatic now?
Ryan started walking again, Basil dancing along beside him like we’d stopped for hours. It kind of felt like we had. My arm was tingly where he’d touched it, and I rubbed it as I walked. He must have grabbed me harder than he meant to, harder than I’d realized when I was transfixed by the graceful doe and her wide-eyed teenagers.
It wasn’t that I was surprised that Ryan was so strong. What was a shock was the w
ay his strength made me feel, safe and sheltered. I had an urge to trot into step with him instead of trailing behind, in hopes that he might reach for me again. I shoved it down as hard as I could, annoyed with myself for even thinking it.
I watched the trees as we continued through the woods, hoping to get another glimpse of the deer. None came, though there were birds and chipmunks and squirrels everywhere.
The run-in with the deer left Basil even more energetic than before, still wiggling when we got back to camp and Ryan tried to check him for ticks. I helped out by distracting him with dog treats, keeping a hold on his harness. He nuzzled into my lap and licked my hands, being a generally sweet boy. I started to think that maybe I needed a pet to keep me company. A big old sleepy cat to snuggle when autumn and winter came along would be a great friend, but I really needed to get my life together before I could have an animal friend.
"Tick-free," Ryan said. "Thanks for the help."
"He seems like a real handful," I said.
"Yeah, but he's a good guy. Look at that face," Ryan said. He ruffled Basil’s ears, smiling fondly.
"A very good, naughty, pee-monster."
"You can't hold that against him, he's a baby."
"I hold it against you," I said.
"Fair, fair." He seemed to know I was joking. He'd more than made up for the Pee Incident. "Lunch and beer?"
"Sure. I got cheese and tomato sandwiches. The tomatoes are from my mom's garden."
"Won't they be all soggy by now?"
"No, you never store tomatoes cold," I said. It astounded me that so few people knew that. I didn't even like gardening, I just liked food.
"What?" He sounded as baffled as I felt.
"It ruins the texture. They get all mealy. I haven't cut them yet." I brushed dog hairs off my jeans on the way to the tent, where I'd placed my tomatoes and paring knife in a corner to keep them safe and unsquished.
