It’s fine.
It’ll be fine.
God, I fucking hope so.
Ten
Hollis
“Dude, what the hell is with all this traffic?” I grumble. “It’s fuckin’ Wednesday. Where is everybody goin’?”
Remi chuckles from the driver’s seat, turning his head to meet my gaze before returning his attention to the road. “Would you relax? You’re not even drivin’, so why do you care?”
“Maybe I’m just really excited for campin’. Ever thought of that, smartass?”
“Or you have a serious case of road rage,” he throws back, flashing me a dimply grin.
I snort. “Okay, yeah, maybe a little of that too.”But also, Iamexcited too.This week is the annual Station 14 A-shift camping trip, which is always a fun time, but this year is particularly exciting, thanks to my newHivefriend, who I’m fairly certain is Ford, based on that little goose egg he dropped the other night. It would make total sense… The username, him being newly single, him being older. There’s no way it’s not Ford, but I have no hard and solid proof…yet.
It’s nearly three in the afternoon by the time we finally make it to the campground. What’s typically a two-hour drive ended up being closer to three, due to all the damn traffic we hit. Once everyone gets their shit unpacked from their vehicles, it’s a race to get tents up before we lose sunlight. Thankfully, Remi and I are no strangers to camping, so we’re able to get both our tents ready in no time before helping the others. Ford and Chandler are the only ones who don’t need any help. You’d think since this is an annual trip that’s gone on for several years now, everyone would be better at this type of shit, but apparently not. With that done, we dive right into getting started on the food. Ford mans the grill, like he does every year—that man isparticular, to say the least, about his meat—while the rest of us get everything else ready.
“Yo, Hollis!” Remi calls out.
Glancing over at him while I shuck the last husk of corn, I tip my chin by way of response. A grin stretches his face as he holds up an unopened bottle of Don Julio Blanco, the question loud and clear. “Oh, hell yeah. Count me in, brother!” After I bring the tray of corn over to the grill and get a greedy eyeful of the man in front of it, I shuffle over to the long folding table Remi’s standing behind while cutting the limes.
“Who else wants one?” he asks.
Millie, Sam, and Kian join us while I open the roll of mini Solo cups and line them in a row. Grabbing the tequila and twisting off the top, I fill the cups to the brim. “Ford, Chandler, James, none for y’all?”
“Can’t leave the steaks,” Ford mutters, not bothering to look up from the grill.Boring.
I flit my gaze over to where James is getting the fire going.Shaking his head, he says, “Nah, not yet. I can’t do tequila on an empty stomach or else I’ll puke and pass out before the night even starts.”
“Chandler…” I purr, shifting my attention to where she’s propped up on the tailgate of Ford’s truck, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders and a Kindle in her hand. “Get your fine ass over here and do a shot with us.”
Her gaze lifts from the device, meeting mine as her lip twitches. “Absolutely not.”
Arching my brow, I fold my arms over my chest. “And why the fuck not, Miss Girl?”
“Because the last time you fed me tequila, I ended up dancing with you on that picnic table over there, belting out the words ofBabyby Justin Bieber with my top off, and my wife was pissed.” Chandler chuckles before adding, “And I’m not really tryin’ to catch her wrath for a second year in a row. So, not happenin’, Moore. Nice try.”
Ford spins around and gestures toward all of us with his spatula. “Nobody is gettin’ naked this year,” he growls.
Yeah, we’ll see about that.
Holding up my hands in front of me, I bark out a laugh. “Damn, Cap, layin’ down the law already. No tequila for Chandlerandno strippin’ and dancin’ around the fire tonight?” I shrug, clicking my tongue. “Kinda borin’, but alright.”
Giving me a deadpan stare with furrowed brows and a tight jaw, he turns back toward the grill without bothering to respond. I huff a laugh and pass out the shots, which the five of us throw back before I crack open a cold beer and turn on some music. It’s not long before the food’s done and we eat. I’ll give it to Ford; he may be a stuffy when it comes to lettingloose on these trips, but my man sure can grill a ribeye.Goddamn,that was delicious.
Several hours later, all of us, except Chandler, who took her ass to bed around nine, are sitting around the fire, shooting the shit while music plays softly in the background—a superior playlist, of course, because it’s mine. Most of us are a handful of drinks deep, and between the crackling fire and the tequila swimming through my bloodstream, I’m feeling pretty toasty. Even Ford is working on his second beer of the night.
Kicked back in a folding chair, a fresh cold one in hand, I’m halfway paying attention while everyone talks shop. Remi’s been a firefighter for long enough that I’ve picked up on most of the lingo, but some of it still goes over my head. Their stories never fail to amuse me, though. The phone tucked away in my pocket taunts me as I flit my gaze across the campfire, taking Ford in and if he really is the man I’ve been talking to on the app. WhenFireInMyVeinslet it slip that he worked at a firehouse, I’ll admit, there was a brief moment of panic at first, wondering if this man I’ve been talking to for over a month now, who I’m now also sexting, could be Remi. It wouldn’t be the first time one of us ran across the other on a dating app. That thought was almost enough to make me delete my profile altogether. I mean, if it was him, that’sRemi…my best fucking friend and somebody I couldneverlook at in that way.
Thankfully, it didn’t take long to piece together that it couldn’t be him. For one, Remi isn’t fresh out of a relationship, and for two, my profile isn’t anonymous, and there’s no way Remi would swipe on me, knowing who I was. Not to mention, I’ve seen Remi without a shirt on hundreds of time during our friendship, and he’s nowhere near as fuzzy as the guy on the app. I’m one hundred percent certain it’s not my best friend—thank god—butdamn, that moment of panicwasreal.Especially because it would’ve been a real fucking bummer to find out the glorious cock I was drooling over belongs to somebody who’s like family to me. Well, that, and it’s usually not the smartest move to fuck your best friend, but there’d be no way I couldn’t take a cock like that for a spin. Safe to say, I’mthrilledabout not having to worry about ruining my friendship with Remi by insisting he fuck me immediately.
Nudging me with his elbow and momentarily pulling me from my thoughts, I look to my left at Remi. “Turn it up,” he says, nodding toward the speaker my phone is connected to.
The beginning of Shania’sAny Man of Mineis playing, and I chuckle to myself as I reach into my pocket and grab the phone, doing exactly that. Remi and Millie simultaneously belt out the lyrics, singing the classic country song like it’s their birthright. Laughter from the rest of us mixes in with their loud, obnoxious singing. After I pound the rest of my beer, I join in as the next song plays, followed by the other guys, and by the timeSong of the Southcomes on, Ford’s even out of his chair and singing along. It’s a damn miracle we don’t wake up Chandler with how loud we are. Nights likethisare exactly why I love coming on these trips every year. It’s a chance to let loose and forget about responsibility for a couple of days. I’ve always been more relaxed and easygoing than my dad and brother, something I get from my mom. Working side by side with them, day in and day out, can get a little suffocating. Being out here with my best friend and the people who are like family to him is a much-needed reset. It’s good for the soul.
