Ten
63 days until the wedding
I've got my phone and my phone charger. A portable charger for my phone and a charger for my portable phone charger. I have my tablet and my tablet charger because I figured bringing my laptop would be a little excessive. I have my yellow whistle that I keep in my purse to keep away potential muggers and the miniature bottle of hairspray I pretend is pepper spray because I think it'd be just as effective if need be. Even though the things that I may be threatened by this weekend are hairier than your average man.
"Honey, did you finish packing?"
I hear the echoed words before my mom appears in my bedroom doorway which is how I officially know they were directed at me and not my dad.
"Almost," I chirp even though it's a complete lie.
In my opinion packing is a hazardous task. You say you're only going to bring a little because "less is more," but then you end up trying to stuff an old lava lamp you've had stored in the back of your closet because you worry something terrible is going to happen, and it'll be your only source of light even though it's been broken for years.
Or maybe that's just me, but either way, like most people, I tend to avoid it until the last possible minute. Then I slowly coax myself into starting the measly task by starting with the things I value most: my pajamas and my electronics.
"Oh, didn't Aubrey tell you? We're making this an electronic free weekend."
My head draws back as I give myself a double chin and raise my eyebrows. "Say what now?" My mom only laughs and slaps my arm, slapping my weird expression away, but I still feel a whine crawling up my throat. "I thought we were just staying at Ben's dad's cabin."
"We are, but since Ben and Aubrey are the ones who planned this trip and are the ones getting married, we must respect their wishes."
"But mom," I drag out the title like a spoiled little kid, but my mom just reaches over and rubs my arms while planting a quick kiss to the side of me head.
"I have to go make sure your father packed his underwear, and your grandmother didn't pack my expresso machine."
I laugh at the thought as my mom retreats from my room before my eyes land back on the items I had sprawled out on my bed. "But what if there's an emergency and someone gets eaten by a bear!" The yell is halfhearted, but I yelp when my mom pokes her head back into the room.
"That's not going to happen, but if it did happen the Coopers have a landline and we'll just have to hope for the best."
"Whatever you say," I sing-song back before she disappears, and I turn to face my bed again. I slip my whistle on my wrist and grab the miniature hairspray, holding it out in front of me as if it were a gun.
Watch out grislys,' Avery James is coming for ya!
****
I don't do well with people, or their body parts, but as we pull up to Ben's dad's cabin after a four-hour drive, I seriously find myself considering gynecology.
The dirt driveway led us right to the back of the log cabin, but no literal logs make up its structure. Instead it's all dark wood with a big open floor deck expanding from the back of the sliding glass door. Through the door I can already see an open first floor with a den area on the left and granite countertops that make up a kitchen on the right.
That's not the best part, though.
The best part is the outside that my dad's black truck currently remains on the outskirts of. A small stone fire pit sits in the center of the backyard, but beyond that is a lake that they share ownership of with the neighbors beside them. However, there are no potentially obnoxious neighbors in sight. Instead, pine trees surround the whole area, secluding each house, and making it seem as if we are the only people in the world to know this place exists. It feels like we are the only people in existence.
If only that were true.
Instead, I'm just an intruder to this beautiful piece of nature with a degree that's nowhere near gynecology. A degree I spent way too much time on and would like to rip up into shreds just to spite the card stock piece of paper, but I won't. Only because with all my time came all my money, and I can't possibly let that go to waste. That statement is only meant to bitter some days, and today is one of those days.
"Oh man, I forgot the chicken." My grandma's sigh has me glancing in the back of my dad's truck at all the camping stuff we managed to stuff back there.
Although I like the idea of being isolated from the world for a little while, surrounded by nature in one of its purest, yet still slightly manmade settings, I wish Aubrey and Ben met on a spring break trip at some beach resort. Then I'd be chilling poolside with a possible piña colada.
Instead, they met one summer when Aubrey went camping with a bunch of her friends and there was an accidental double booking of the same site with Ben and his friends. They decided to share the site, I suppose it was almost like love at first sight, and now here we are on a trip they planned for their families as almost a way to reminisce on their relationship before they officially tie the knot in a few weeks.
"Usually mom says to bring cookies when we go to new place, but..." I trail off as I begin digging for the apparent chicken my grandma forgot, but she swats my hands away.
"No, I mean, Chickee."
"You mean Cluckie?" I squeak out the name, and my grandma solemnly nods.
"Yeah, I forgot to bring Chickee, but I also forgot to even leave him food, so now he's going to starve to death."
"Dammit," my dad whispers, and I throw him a look.
"I thought you out of all people would be happy to be rid of the chicken, one way, or another."
"Well, yes, but..." He looks around to make sure my grandma isn't listening, and when he finds her and my mom talking and embracing Ben's dad's he continues. "My plan, or hope, was that the chicken could mistakenly be released back into the wild."
My nose scrunches up. "But it's a farm animal."
That's when those brown eyes I inherited zoom in on me completely. "It was either that, or an accidental roasting over the fire pit."
I visibly gulp at the image, but that only makes my dad grin and ignites the fire behind his eyes. A fire I silently pray I don't have when I'm set on something.
"Hey, dad!" Aubrey skips over and gives my dad a hug before turning to me.
Unlike the sadistic fire that was shining in my dad's eyes, Aubrey's eyes are shining in happiness. Her whole demeanor radiates her excitement, and I immediately find myself smiling because of it.
"Did you bring your sleeping bag?" Aubrey wiggles her eyebrows, and my smile drops.
"My what?"
"Your sleeping bag! We're camping remember?" Her laughter almost has me smiling again, but my confusion prevents it.
"In the cabin, I thought." I even point to the building a few feet away from us for emphasis while Aubrey reaches into the trunk of the car.
"The adults are staying in the cabin while we are actually going to camp."
"Aren't we technically adults too?" My black duffel bag gets dumped into my arms before I catch Aubrey's eyes above the black straps.
"You know what I mean." She waves her hand dismissively before turning to catch Ben's gaze. He waves her over to greet more people.
"Sucks for you." My dad laughs as he pulls out my mom and his suitcase before wheeling it up the deck. My mouth drops despite being used to his antics by now.
I sling my duffel bag over my shoulder before reaching into the back of the car with my other hand, grabbing the pink sleeping bag my mom most likely put in there, but once again neglected to tell me another supposed rule for this trip.
My eyes land on the people I consider my family as another car pulls in behind the row that's formed on the driveway. A flash of red hair that's a similar shade to mine has me freezing in my position despite the cramps that are forming in my wrists from the items in my hands.
We may be the same age, but we are complete opposites. From head to toe my cousin, Mikayla, is the definition of a California girl. Even as she steps out of the car adorned in a casual black t-shirt, army green sweats that are scrunched at the bottom and have knee cut outs, and a pair of black flip flops. She oozes not only sun, but also poise.
That's what makes us opposites. Although our relatives have always joked about us being twins because of our similar age, hair color, and eye color, Mikayla has always had something I don't.
Confidence.
The perfectly charming amount that I've always envied and tried to acquire, but I can never seem to obtain. I just can't seem to carry myself the way she does. Let's be honest, I can barely carry myself at all.
I watch as she embraces Aubrey and Ben, both girls' mouths moving rapidly and their hands flaring wildly as they catch up, most likely talking about the wedding and life. I find myself smiling at the moment and before I know it that excited energy is centered on me.
"Avery!" The squeal is in my ear as arms are wrapped around me and my duffel bag falls from my hand.
"Mikayla!" My squeal is halfhearted and mimicking, but that doesn't stop the smile from spreading across my cousin's face when she finally draws back.
"It's been too long! How are you?" She brushes her hair away from her lip as her eyes stay locked on mine.
"I've been good." I readjust the sleeping back in my hands, hugging it to my chest. "How about you?"
"Pretty good. I got an internship at Charlotte Russe headquarters, so that's kept me pretty busy."
The sleeping bag momentarily slips from my clammy palmed grasp, but I easily tug it back up. "That's cool. Do you get free clothes?"
"I wish!" She laughs before running a hand through her hair. "What about you? How's the job search going?"
"Oh, you know..." I shrug before swiping a finger under my nose at the sweat slicked skin above my lip. "It's going."
"That's all we can ask for"—she turns her body to align our shoulders and nudges mine with hers—"am I right?"
I shake my head at the fact that her tone went up an octave, but smile nonetheless.
"Ooh, hot damn." Mikayla lets out a low whistle beside me before her face fills my line of vision again. "If you'll excuse me, I'm going to go introduce myself to that hunk of a fella over there."
All I get is a flick of her thumb over her shoulder before she's skipping away to a jeep that matches the color of her pants. All I can do is shake my head at her antics, but still admire the way she so easily flounces around without any queries, or qualms.
"You can take her."
The sleeping bag flies out of my hands as a yelp flies from my lips. My eyes land on my grandma, who's now standing beside me once again. When I find her gaze only remains ahead of us I finally question her sudden presence.
"What did you say?"
"You can take her." My grandma slowly repeats the phrase, and my eyebrows furrow.
"Who?" The question only exaggerates my expression further, but my grandma doesn't even turn to see it. Instead, she only flings her arm out.
"She's stealing your man!"
My gaze follows the direction of her arm before I find myself tilting my head back in laughter. "Oh, grandma, Nate and I are just friends."
Her brow raises to a highly uncomfortable angle. "Yeah, okay."
"I'm serious." Although my statement is true, I still can't hide the amusement lacing my words because of my grandma's cartoon-like expression.
"Fine." My grandma dismisses me with a wave off her hand, retiring her gaze back on the two-people chatting by the jeep, and I follow her gaze only to hear cracking bone. "If you won't fight for him, then I will. Can't let a man like that go to waste."
She finishes cracking her knuckles and wiggles her eyebrows at me before swaying over to the two just like Mikayla did only moments before.
"You do that, Gram." My laughter trails behind her before I finally pick my things up off the floor and start to head towards the cabin.
Maybe if I accidently leave my stuff inside, I'll accidently sleep in there too.
****
Campfires are deceitful creatures. The way the orange flames dance around the burning wood and the movement is reflected in your eyes. The transition from wood to flame is seamless, seemingly endless, and the warmth it emits makes you want to dive into it. Your fingers itch to touch it, craving more heat despite knowing you can't have any more than it's giving. At the same time, though, you technically could. You could have the heat you crave, but you'll only get hurt in the process and the problem with that is, you consider it. You consider burning yourself all because you've fallen in love with the fires appearance.
But then the wind blows in your direction and the smoke you immediately inhale burns your eyes just as much as it burns your lungs. For a second you stay, willing yourself to believe that it wasn't the fire's intention to hurt you, that it is only trying to warm you, but then it emits a loud crack and that crack clears your delusional thoughts about the fire. Instead, you're left wondering how you could've been so thoughtless, and another crack from the fire sends you flying from your seat because you refuse to catch a fly away ember.
My legs carry me around the inside of the kind of cumbia circle of lawn chairs that surround the campfire I've now decided to avoid. I don't remember to avoid people's personal bubbles, though, as I scurry my way around, but instead keep my wary eyes on the fire I thought was my friend. I find myself squinting at the fiery flames, but the fire only cracks back at me again making me stumble back. I lose the support of my flip flop and find myself ungracefully falling back into a lawn chair. That would have been fine if the lawn chair wasn't already occupied, if the 'oof' my body received was any indication.
"Nice of you to drop in." It was more of a grunt than an appraisal, but I still find myself responding.
"I'm so sorry." I send a quick glance up only to catch all too familiar brown eyes, and it's as if my brain finally decides to click back into place. I swing my arms and kick my legs in attempt to stand back up, but that's when Nate's hands find my thighs as they lay horizontally across his own.
"Jeez, James, you're freezing." His hand begins to frantically rub at the bare skin there for a few seconds, but that only makes a shiver run up my spine.
"Yeah, I've been meaning to put on pajamas, but I haven't found the time." My legs continue to swing up and down as I try to distract from the fact that the heat of his fingertips continue to sear through my skin despite them no longer deliberately trying to provide me warmth.
"I see you still had time to make a s'more though."
My fidgeting ceases as my eyes meet his again only to find the amusement there. He uses his other hand to swipe at the corner of my lip. He holds up his thumb to show me marshmallow remnants, and all I can do is shrug as a sheepish smile tugs at my lips.
We sit there like that for a few seconds with only our blinking telling the time. I can see the orange glow of the fire reflecting in his eyes and for a moment I forget where I am. That is until the fire pit cracks again, and I watch the explosion of embers in between the depths of brown, and just like that I'm leaping away. My leap is more of a tumble, though, and I think Nate even notices this as he reaches out to catch me, but I scramble away, managing to only get dirt on my knees, and that only confirms my need to change into some comfortable pajamas and go to sleep with the dream of a new day ahead.