The Moment We Began (A Fairhope New Adult Romance) (19 page)

“I figured,” he says. “Just wait
for me. I’ll be right back.”

Mason kisses my forehead, then gets into the truck
and drives away.

I sit down on one of the bigger bags, then take a
minute to really look around at the other campers. There are a couple
of empty sites around us, but most of the places are taken up by
tents in a variety of shapes and sizes and colors. Down at one end, I
see a tent that looks like the freaking Taj Mahal of tents. It’s
huge and looks like it has several partitions inside. An older woman
in overalls and a tank top is standing at a card table that’s
been set up in front. She pours vodka into a red cup, then adds a
tiny splash of something that looks like lemonade. She finishes it
off with a couple of ice cubes from her cooler, then takes a long
drink.

When she’s done, she looks up and our eyes
meet.

I look away, realizing I’ve been staring.
I’m already completely out of my element here, the last thing I
want to do is make enemies or come to be known as the rude girl in
camp.

Mason said we would stay as long as we want, but I
have no idea what that really means. I’m usually more of a
planner, so not knowing if we’re here for one night or ten
makes me feel anxious.

I glance back toward the big tent and the woman
waves. I lift my hand and smile. I feel completely awkward here. I
probably look like a complete mess after our swim, too. My shorts are
still wet.

But oh god, it was amazing to be in his arms after
all this time. Yes, we’d had a few moments in the past where we
gave in to each other, but nothing like today. Mason’s
different here. The second we left Fairhope, some of his walls came
down. Maybe some of mine too. I don’t know if it’s the
freedom of being gone or the fact that I came with him or what, but
he’s being so sweet and attentive.

And those kisses.

I lift my hand to my mouth, remembering.

He’s pushed me away for so long, this feels
like a dream. I just pray it doesn’t turn into a nightmare.
With Mason, I feel like I can never really completely know what to
expect.

And right now, there’s so much on the line.

I expected him back by now, though. I stand up and
look in the direction he drove off in. The campground has a lot of
large trees, so I can’t see too far, but I think I can make out
some cars in a parking lot a ways down. It shouldn’t have taken
him this long to park and walk right back. I don’t want to risk
getting lost or missing him somewhere along the way, so I decide to
start unpacking some of these bags. I may not know how to put the
tent together, but I can at least pull out the pieces so that when he
gets back, it’s ready to go.

The bag the tent comes in is cinched together by a
black cord. I pull on it and the mouth of the bag opens wide. I turn
it over, dumping the contents out onto the ground. Metal pieces clang
against each other and fall hard into the sand and dirt at my feet. A
few people at the site across from ours look up. One of the guys
stands up from his folding chair.

“You need some help?” He’s got a
long beard and is wearing a flannel shirt with the sleeves ripped
off.

I make a face. “Um, no thanks,” I say.
I look down the path again, but still no sign of Mason. “It
just slipped right out of my hand.”

The man smiles and raises his can of beer in a
salute. I wave back to say thanks and take the rest of the pieces out
of the bag. More carefully this time.

Once it’s laid out, the whole thing looks
very complicated. I had considered taking a stab at it, thinking
Mason would be so surprised if he came back and the tent was set up.
But knowing there are people watching me, I don’t dare. I’d
probably end up making a big mess, and it would suck if I ruined the
tent.

What else can I do?

I have no idea what’s in the rest of the
bags, so I take a look around. One of the boxes has a full set of
kitchen-type stuff. Pots and pans, some kind of stove, maybe? One of
the grocery bags has hotdog buns, peanut butter, plastic cups, that
sort of thing. He probably doesn’t want me taking that stuff
out, so I just set it back down.

I look over at the campsite across from us to see
what they have set up. Their party seems to take up two spots and
there are three different tents set up between them. Their tents are
much smaller than the one at the end, so I think it must be more like
ours. Three men who look to be in their late thirties or so are
sitting around a small fire, and I wonder how they can stand it when
it’s so hot and humid out here.

I study our site. Do we need a fire? Maybe, if he
plans on cooking hotdogs or something for dinner. Plus, he said it
might get cooler in the evenings. There’s a ring of big rocks
filled with the ashy remnants of past fires in the center of our
site. I don’t know where everyone’s getting their
firewood, but that would at least be something useful I could do.

The same man who offered to help before is looking
at me again. “You sure you don’t want some help? You look
a little lost.”

I cross the path toward him. “Do you know
where I can get some firewood?”

The man looks at me, then looks at his friends.
They all laugh. My cheeks flush and I tug on my hair. What did I say?

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to
bother you.” I turn around, mortified.

“Now wait a minute,” the man says.
“I’m sorry, I honestly didn’t realize you were
serious.”

I can’t just ignore him, so I turn back. “I
really don’t know where to get it,” I say. “It’s
my first time camping. Is there a little store or something?”

The man’s belly jiggles even though he’s
trying to keep a straight face.

I clench my jaw tight. If he’s not planning
on helping me, why does he keep offering? Asshole.

“No, there’s no store,” he says.
“But you do realize you’re standing in the middle of the
woods,right? There’s firewood all over the ground.”

I close my eyes, feeling like a complete idiot. I
was thinking they were using firewood like you’d use in your
house. The kind you find a grocery store or someone selling on the
side of the road during the winter months. I wasn’t think I’d
have to actually walk around and collect it myself. And what in the
world are the rules on something like that? Can I only take wood
that’s on the ground near my site? Or can I just walk around
everyone’s sites and pick up random sticks?

I’m too scared to ask. I don’t want to
be the source of entertainment out here tonight.

“Thanks,” I say. I turn away and walk
straight back to go sit down on the bag. I’m completely useless
out here.

I look down the path again and this time, I see
him and my stomach lurches.

He’s not alone.

A girl who looks about our age is walking next to
him. She’s tan and has a rockin’ body that she’s
obviously not afraid to show off. She’s smiling and flipping
her hair back. Major flirt-mode. And worse, Mason’s smiling
back. The girl stops and points to a green tent that’s already
set up. Mason stands and talks to her for what feels like an
eternity.

I know I can’t stand there staring at them
forever. The guys behind me are surely watching me. I’m like a
reality TV show to them at this point, probably. Survivor Idiot or
some shit.

I walk over and sit down on the duffel bag, but I
can’t help watching Mason with her. What the hell could they
possibly be talking about?

This is just like him, too. Even though he
promised no other girls, here he is on the first day obviously
hanging out with another girl who is way too hot for my comfort
level. Of course, how could I have expected him to really keep to
that promise? He’s a player. I know this. It’s in his
nature to flirt with hot girls. Hell, it’s in every guy’s
nature.

But part of me had been hoping that our kiss in
the ocean today meant something to him.

I watch as he hugs the hot girl, then walks back
down the path toward me. I pick at the edges of my fingernails, not
even wanting to watch him walk over here. I’m totally pissed
and he’s smiling like he just won the damn lottery.

“Hey, guess what?”

You’ve found someone hotter to sleep with
tonight?

I force a smile. “What?”

“I just met these girls who said there was a
big music festival going on this week just up the road a few miles.
Apparently there was some big bonfire and lots of local musicians and
stuff,” he says. “We just barely missed it, but she said
there’s another one in a couple weeks in Gulf Shores that
they’re coming back for.”

“And you want to go with them?”

“Well, yeah, don’t you?”

I swallow, thinking about the way that girl was
looking at him. “I guess,” I say. “I thought we
were just going to play it by ear for a while.”

“We are,” he says. “But if we
stick around, I think it could be cool to hear some people jamming
out on the beach.”

I shrug. “Okay, whatever you want.”

I am trying so hard to act normal. I don’t
want to fight with him and ruin our first night. But at the same
time, I kind of want to punch him in the nuts.

“Hey, what’s wrong with you?” he
asks. He puts his hands on my shoulders and turns me to face him.
“Why are you upset? I thought this would be part of the
adventure. Let’s see where it takes us.”

“Nothing,” I lie. “I’m
fine. I’m just ready to get things set up so we can relax.”

“I see you started working on the tent,”
he says smugly, staring down at the scattered pieces.

“I took it out so you could put it together
easier,” I say. “I was going to get us some firewood, but
I don’t know the rules about that kind of stuff.”

“Rules?”

“Yeah, like whether I can pick it up from
just anywhere, or if I have to find some at our own site, or what?”

Mason picks up a large leather case and flips it
open. Inside is a small axe with a worn wooden handle. The blade,
though, shines like its just been sharpened. “Firewood is
really more of a man’s job,” he says. “But you can
come with me, if you want. Help me carry it.”

“No thanks,” I say. “I’ll
stay here. I just need a little direction on what you want done.”

“Are you sure you’re okay? Because
when I left you were smiling and when I walked back…”
His voice trails off as points toward the path. He presses the palm
of his hand against his forehead. “You’re mad because I
was talking to that girl?”

“Is that what you call it?”

He makes a frustrated noise in his throat. “Yes,
that’s exactly what I call it,” he says. “She was
telling me about the festival. I thought you’d be interested in
it too.”

“And you didn’t notice how hot she is?
Or how much she was flirting with you?”

He sighs and picks up the hatchet. With one hard
swing, he buries the tip of the blade into a stump. “Is this
how it’s going to be, then? The whole trip you’re going
to be watching me like a hawk, freaking out every time I talk to
another girl?”

“I’m not freaking out.” I
struggle to keep my voice down. From the corner of my eye, I can
already see our neighbors turning around in their chairs to listen.
“I just thought we agreed you weren’t going to flirt with
other women while we were together.”

“Then I guess we damn well better define
what you mean by flirt, because in my mind, that’s not at all
what I was doing with her,” he says. He steps closer to me, not
trying at all to keep his voice down. “Now, if I’d told
her she was a fine piece of ass, that would be crossing the line, but
as I see it, talking to a nice girl about an upcoming music festival
that I would like you and I to attend together is completely
harmless. And if you’re going to hover over me the whole time,
then maybe you should get on the next bus back to Fairhope.”

I stomp one foot in the sand. “You’re
the one turning this into a big deal,” I say. “I was
doing my best to ignore it and keep a good attitude. You’re the
one who disappeared for more than half an hour, leaving me here to
fend for myself.”

He opens his mouth and lifts his hand like he’s
going to say something, then makes a fist and shuts his jaw with a
snap. He takes a deep breath, then leans down and pulls the hatchet
from the ground. “I’m going to get some firewood,”
he says. “I’ll be back later.”

Regret seeps into my bones. I didn’t want
this to turn into a big argument, but I’ve seen him parade
girls like that right under my nose a thousand times. I don’t
want to see it happen again. Not now. Not when I have so much to
lose.

“Wait,” I call out to him. He turns.
“What am I supposed to do while your gone?”

“You’re a big girl,” he says.
“Figure it out.”

He walks away, heading into the wooded area past
the camping sites. I stand there staring after him until he’s
too far in for me to see him through the trees.

I turn and the woman with the big tent is just
standing there, staring at us with a big grin on her face. When I
narrow my eyes at her, she just shakes her head and lifts her red cup
toward me in a salute.

I’m pretty sure I’ve never felt more
lost in my life.

I stand there, staring at the scattered tent
pieces and the bags all around me. There’s a tug deep inside my
gut that says I should just give up and go home. That Mason was
right. I’m not cut out for this. I have never really lived
without my parents standing right behind me, ready to pick up the
pieces when I fall apart.

That’s what they did when I was eight years
old and fell out of a tree. I had been climbing high, trying to prove
to Preston and his friends that a girl could climb just as well as
any boy. I got almost as high as Preston when I lost my footing and
fell to the ground. I broke my leg and hit my head on a rock. My mom
was more worried about the future scar that would be left on my
forehead than anything else. The leg would heal, but she was
horrified by the thought of that scar.