You know what? It’s fine. I’ll be fine. Tents are waterproof, right? Yeah, it’ll be fine.
Just as I’m about to climb inside the tent, the creaking sound of a door reaches me, and when I glance behind me, I notice Boone standing there watching me.
“Get inside, Grady,” he says sternly, his arms once again crossed over his chest in an authoritative manner.
“No.”
“You’re soaked.”
“Yeah, I just took a shower.”
“It’s raining.”
“I’m not sleeping on the bench, Boone. I’ll be in the tent.I’m fine.”
“You’re being ridiculous.”
“Goodnight,” I say, by way of response, ignoring the flutter in my stomach at the thought of Boone caring enough to check on me. He’s a good guy; it doesn’t mean anything more.
Boone mutters something under his breath that I don’t catch before he turns and goes back inside the camper, leaving me all alone out here in the rain.
“It’s fine,” I mumble one last time to myself before I dip into the tent.
Okay,so night one in the tent wasn’t ideal, but it wasn’t horrible either. I survived, and I stayed dry, which is quite the feat considering the weather last night. And on the plus side, I didn’t wake up with a raging boner. Granted, it was probably because my back was stiff and I was freezing, but that’s okay. Progress is progress, right?
It’s now night two, and I’m determined to make it work. It’s not raining tonight, so I’m already off to a better start. The rodeo ended a few hours ago, and it was a great one. I don’t think I’ll ever get over how exciting it is to get to work these events. Getting to watch these strong, brave, wild cowboys and cowgirls for a living night after night is a bit surreal, but I’ll take it. Boone did incredibly. Which leads me to believe that not sleeping near me was helpful for him too. Which is a good thing…right? Except all I can think about is that means he’s affected by me too, meaning he feels something between us. It’s not one sided. And sure, I probably could’ve gathered that way sooner…like when we made out, for instance, but it’s easy to blame that on alcohol.
I wish these feelings would go away. They’re annoying, very much unwanted, and at this point, all I think about. I’m consumed with thoughts of Boone, and us, and then the guilt for having those thoughts. It’s a never-ending cycle. Like right now, for instance, I’m getting ready to head into the tent after my shower, and all I can think about is what Boone’s doing in the camper, since he’s all alone. Is he reading? Scrolling through his phone? Is he touching himself again like that night I watched him? Or maybe it’s none of the above, and he’s simply sleeping.
Approaching the tent, I notice something is off right away. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up and my pulse kicks up. It’s unzipped, but I think that’s my fault. I probably forgot to close it before I went to the stalls. But it’s the rustling around on the inside that’s got my hackles up. Turning on the flashlight on my phone with shaky fingers, I point the light in the direction of the tent as I approach it slowly, cautiously. My heart’s beating so fast, I swear I can feel it in my throat.
I finally round the front of the tent, getting a good look at the inside, and a scream lodges itself in my throat as the furry, grayish-brown creature comes into view. He must hear me because he spins around, standing on his hindlegs as his front paws are held up in front of him like he’s been caught red-handed. His beady little eyes stare into my soul, and an ice-cold chill races down my spine. I’m frozen in place, staring at the raccoon currently occupying my tent.
What is one supposed to do in this instance?
What if he has rabies?
Oh my God. He’s going to attack me, and I’m going to die from rabies.
Fuck, fuck, fuck!
What do I do?!
The raccoon and I stand here, staring at each other, for what feels like an eternity. When he finally drops down to all fours again, taking a step in my direction, a blood-curdling scream claws its way up my throat. I slap a hand over my mouth, and the furry devil stands up on his hind legs again. Holy shit, he’s going to charge at me, isn’t he?
This is it.
He waves his paws in the air a few times before he drops down and darts out of the tent. I jump back, another scream coming out, but instead of coming toward me, he scurries away. Watching him run away, I let out a heaved sigh, bending overand resting my palms on my knees as I breathe in deeply, trying to catch my breath. The door to Boone’s camper opens, and he runs out wearing nothing more than a tight pair of black briefs.
“What’s going on?” he asks, panic in his voice, eyes wide, and his hair a mess atop his head.
My blood is pumping along with my heart is racing, so I can’t even stop to admire how fucking hot he looks right now.
“My tent…” I blurt out. “Raccoon… Inside… Tent.”
Boone runs barefoot down the steps to the camper toward the tent. He approaches and looks inside, like he’s not even scared of the possibility of rabies and an untimely death. “I don’t see anything,” he says after a moment.
“Ran away,” I reply, clearly not able to speak in complete sentences right now. My head is dizzy as my heart rate slowly returns to a normal pace.
