Page 44 of Wild and Wrangled

“Just do it.” I laughed. “And put your hands out.”

“You don’t have a snake or anything in there, do you?” she asked, eyeing the bag that I’d set between us.

I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, I’ve been keeping a live animal in this canvas bag all day, just for a chance to scare you with it.”

“You never know,” she said.

“Close your eyes, Ash,” I said. Cam made a big show of being annoyed, letting out a huff, before she finally did what I asked. “Hands,” I said.

Cam put her hands out. I took a deep breath before setting her pile of gifts into them. “Open,” I said, and when Cam looked down, her mouth dropped open slightly.

“Oh my god,” she said as she set everything on her lap. There was a medium-size shoulder bag, a laptop sleeve, and a padfolio—all genuine soft leather. All made, start to finish, by me—cut, stained a deep, rich brown, and branded with a small monogram.

I watched her drag her fingers over the surface of everything, but she stayed silent. I started to feel embarrassed. Was this silly? Did I spend hours making things that she wouldn’t even like or use? Was it weird that I’d made her something personal instead of just buying her something generic and easy?

“These are…beautiful, Dusty,” she said as she examined the padfolio more closely. “But you said you didn’t buy me anything.”

“I didn’t,” I affirmed.

Cam looked at me. “Did you…did you make these?” I nodded, still feeling shy. Cam looked back down at her gifts. “Holy shit. These look like they cost a fortune.” She looked back up at me. “And believe me, I would know.”

“You like them?” I asked.

She was earnest when she said, “I love them, Dusty.” Her hands were still rubbing the leather and tracking the stitches. When she made it to the snap on the padfolio, she unclasped it and opened the cover. Her smile widened. “College-ruled paper?”

“You and I both know wide-ruled paper sucks ass.”

Cam laughed. “And this pen.” She pulled it out of its loop.

“My mom made that,” I said. It was a skinny wooden pen with a mountain scene carved into it. “I put a point five pen tip in there. I didn’t know if that was still your preference, so I have some other ones, and we can change it,” I said quickly.

“Point five is perfect,” she said. “Seriously, thank you. This is the most thoughtful gift.” She leaned forward—to hug me, I think, but then paused—like she wasn’t quite sure.

I leaned forward, too. “You started it,” I said. “Now it wouldjust be weird if we didn’t.” Friends hugged, right? And friends got each other presents—after all, I made something for Emmy, Teddy, and Ada, too.

Cam rolled her eyes again, but it looked like she was trying not to smile. “Right,” she said, so I took the opportunity to fold her into my arms. She smelled so good—earthy and expensive. When I felt her relax against me, I felt like I was holding the world. God, she turned me into a cliché motherfucker.

“This is all amazing, Dusty. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” I murmured. I tried not to make it obvious that I was smelling her hair like a creep.

“I’m sorry I didn’t get you anything,” she said. I didn’t have the balls to tell her that this was enough. Cam wasn’t moving away, so I rubbed my hands up and down her back. She held me tighter. “I didn’t know you did this.”

“Leatherwork?” I asked.

“Yeah.”

“I picked it up in Buenos Aires.”

I let my eyes flutter closed, memorizing this moment—thinking about how I had so many memories of her in my arms, but they were all from then. This was now.

And it was everything.

“You feel different,” she whispered.

“So do you,” I said. “Good different or bad different?”

“Good different, I think,” she said. “More substantial.”

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