Page 29 of Losing Sleep
“I fell asleep and unconsciously stretched out. And you’re one to talk. If you and Trent sat any closer, you would have fused together.” I did my best to keep defensiveness from my tone, averting my gaze from Tory and focusing on pouring myself a glass of milk. What I needed after so little sleep was Pepsi, but that meant maneuvering around Tory to get to the fridge and potentially making eye contact.
I lifted the glass to my lips, grimacing at the taste and texture, but committing to the drink and the distraction it provided. If I closed my eyes and pretended hard enough, maybe I could convince myself two percent tasted just as good as the flavored milks Grey and I had purchased the day before. I’d have to stick a couple in the fridge to go with breakfast tomorrow.
“Why are you awake?” I glanced at the clock, opting for a change of topic. It was barely after nine, and while Tory had beat me to bed, I was guessing she hadn’t slept through most of the movie.
“Because I don’t want to sleep away the day. We’re at the cabin! While I’m a fan of taking it easy, I’m also a fan of exploring and doing fun things before the day gets away from us.” Tory waved around a whisk she’d grabbed, and I was grateful she hadn’t started stirring the eggs quite yet. I didn’t need scrambled eggs splattered all over my clothes.
“What are we doing today? Floating the river?” While I’d only been to the cabin once, I knew Tory’s favorite activities all involved water.
“That’s a possibility, though Grey’s never been up here before. I was thinking it would be better to spend the day in Yellowstone. We could hit the Grand Prismatic and, if we’re feeling extra brave, we could battle the Old Faithful crowds and see if the geyser is still on schedule.”
“You are feeling brave. I don’t know if I’ve ever attempted Old Faithful this time of year. I’m guessing just getting into the park will be a struggle.” I pictured the entrance to Yellowstone, with its line of ranger-containing booths, anticipating the long line of cars that would await us once we reached West Yellowstone.
“I have a good feeling about today, especially if we can get out the door before lunch.”
“I thought the entrance was busiest in the morning.” Her logic confused me, but I would roll with it if it meant a distraction from my thoughts of Grey and whatever was building between us.
“It is, but the sooner we get in line, the sooner we get into the park, and the sooner we can start our epic adventure.” She stood with her hands on her hips, looking like an exuberant cartoon character ready to tackle the day. I couldn’t help but love her for it.
I helped Tory fix breakfast: scrambled eggs, hashbrowns, and a towering mountain of toast. When it was ready, Tory disappeared downstairs to get the guys while I washed dishes, the smell of breakfast causing my stomach to growl. One downside to life in the woods—there wasn’t a dishwasher. But somehow the view of aspen trees outside the kitchen window with mountains in the distance made up for the lack of modern conveniences as I scrubbed pans and utensils.
I turned off the water as I heard footsteps coming up the stairs. I settled at the table and was shortly joined by Tory. A few minutes later, the guys surfaced. Trent was groggy, still wearing green superhero pajamas and only mumbling a greeting beforeflopping into a chair. Grey had taken the time since I’d seen him to comb his hair and get ready, though he still wore the same flannel shirt from earlier. I hadn’t realized how much I liked a man in flannel until this trip. Now, the pattern would forever remind me of muscled arms and long car rides.
We fixed our plates and dug into the food, Tory and Grey providing most of the conversation as they discussed the potential plans for the week. Once we had eaten, Tory explained the plan for the day.
“Sounds great,” Grey said, leaning back into his chair and stretching his arms above his head.
Trent nodded his head, blinking like he wasn’t sure if he was dreaming, his expression remaining stoic.
“Let’s get ready and try to be out the door in 20 minutes.” Tory stood and moved towards her room. “And pack your swimsuit. If it’s warm enough, we can swim in the Firehole.”
I froze. “I thought we’d just drive around the park, maybe do some simple hikes.”
“Where’s the fun in that?” Tory closed her bedroom door, and the guys disappeared downstairs.
I hesitated, biting my lip and debating my options. While I had planned on wearing my swimsuit to float the river one day while we were here, I hadn’t planned on anything more involved. Floating the river meant maybe getting my torso wet. Swimming was a whole other story that would likely mean messy hair and smudged makeup. Not to mention, I knew from Tory’s stories that swimming at the Firehole meant jumping into the water and riding the rapids, something far more adventurous than I cared to experience.
I shook my head, dislodging my fears. Just because the others went swimming didn’t mean I had to. I could pack a book, sit in the sun, and enjoy time outside, working on my tan. It would be fine.
I forced myself down the hall, grabbing my swimsuit and towel along with a book. I could participate, just on my terms.
Yet, despite my logic, my heart wouldn’t stop pounding at the thought of swimming in the rapids and the loss of control it promised.
Chapter Fifteen
The wait to enterthe park took forever, something that felt even longer since I was wearing hiking shoes and hadn’t wanted to deal with the hassle of putting them back on. I deeply regretted leaving my shoes on as my toes itched to be free. Add to that a massive traffic jam a few miles into the park, and I was quickly regretting our decision to visit Yellowstone.
“There had better be a bear at the end of this line,” I muttered as I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, ready to hit the trailhead and start exploring the park. At the rate we were going, we would be lucky if we made it to Old Faithful before lunch.
We continued to crawl forward inches at a time. I sat in the back next to Grey, listening to his running commentary about the national parks he hoped to visit someday. His constant dialogue was giving me flashbacks to the start of our trip, and I struggled to think of questions or comments to break up hismonologue. Tory and Trent were no help, with Tory focused on the road and Trent being his usual stoic self.
Just as I was about to give up all hope of conversation between the four of us, Trent spoke up.
“Ten bucks says it’s a bison,” Trent said from the front passenger seat, his monotone matching his lack of expression as he glanced over his shoulder at me.
“It’s either that or an elk.” Tory tapped her fingers on the steering wheel, her voice upbeat, if strained.
One of Tory’s music mixes, a combination of current and early 2000 hits, played quietly in the background, providing a soundtrack to our snail’s-paced trek into the park. I itched to switch it to Journey or Bon Jovi, something to cut through the frustration in the car. After waiting over a half-hour to get into the park, the slow traffic just past the entrance felt like a personal insult. Especially when there was no end in sight.
