Page 51 of Only One Bed: Anthology Vol. 1
Romantic Intent
A.Z. Louise
Nature was not my preferred habitat. I've always been an indoor kid, more interested in exploring through a video game or my imagination as my Dungeon Master spun me an epic tale about elves or something, but sometimes a person needs a change of scenery. That was why I found myself pulling into the gravel parking area of a campsite on a Friday evening, my trunk full of gear and my stomach full of butterflies.
I already felt unprepared, and the sight of the parking lot only made things worse. Everyone who was unpacking their cars seemed to have forty times as much stuff as I did. Anxious, I almost started my car again to cut my escape, but I had always been more stubborn than I was scared.
Usually.
The second I got out of my car, I saw a dog, which I took as a good sign. Any day when you see a dog is a good day, especially when it's an excitable border collie who runs right toward you while you're taking stuff out of your trunk.
"Hey, puppy!" The words had barely come out of my mouth before the adorable little bastard lifted his leg and peed on my packed-up tent. "Oh no." I froze, arms hanging limp at my sides as I looked around for the dog's owner and spotted a white man jogging toward me.
"I'm so sorry," he said. "He's been cooped up in the truck and got overexcited about all the people. It's his first camping trip, isn't it, Basil? Here, I'll help you hose it off and set it up. I've got some beers if you –"
"Leave me alone," I said. "I don't need any help." But the pee had soaked right into the fabric, which had claimed to be waterproof. I could already feel the tears starting, and blinked up at the pale blue sky. I was trying to escape real life, and for a second I thought about just putting the tent in the trash and going home, but home was way worse than the pee tent at this point.
When I lowered my gaze, the dog was wagging at me, his owner still standing there staring at me. I scowled back at him, took in his auburn hair and freckles. Being mad made me feel less like I was going to cry.
"Um." He glanced down at my soaked tent. "Do you want to use my tent tonight? Until you can get to a store and get one that's a little more...weatherproof?"
"No. I do not." I turned away from him and grabbed my backpack, sleeping bag and cooler, meaning to leave the pee tent where it was. I had enough on my hands; I could deal with it later. Besides, being a Black woman alone in the wilderness (okay maybe not the wilderness, since town was like fifteen minutes away, but it was close enough), cozying up to some rando white guy was the best way I could think of to get murdered and dumped in a river or something.
"Come, on, it's a really nice one. You'll be cozy."
I rounded on him, no clue what I was going to say but sure it'd be rude. But he looked so earnest, and his little piss-demon was wagging his tail. And now that I thought about it, dead bodies in rivers didn’t have to pay bills, so maybe being marginally nice to him wasn’t all bad.
"How are you sure I won't just steal it?" I asked.
He shrugged. "I dunno. I'd probably deserve it. Come on, I'll help you set up."
I gritted my teeth over a groan. Just what I wanted, to spend more time with this jerk. But based on his massive, well-used backpack and overall ruggedness level, he looked like he actually knew what he was doing, so I put aside my annoyance (and murder worries) and followed him to his truck, and then to set up his tent.
I dropped all my stuff to help, but he began to set it up without even a glance at me. I hoped he couldn't tell that my Tent Plan had been to wing it, but his aggressive competence made me pretty sure he already knew. It also made me a hundred-percent sure I had gotten in over my head; I never would have been able to figure a tent out, let alone set it up on my own. I wasn’t exactly known for my grace.
I was left to try to stay out of the way while this large, capable man, who most likely knew that I was a complete mess, rescued me from myself. I really did want to feel grateful for his help, because I was definitely stubborn enough that I would have struggled with the tent for hours before I gave up and slunk home defeated. But somehow, this felt more like a huge L than trying it on my own.
At least if I messed it up on my own, I could escape under cover of night, and nobody would be there to bear witness to my failure. This dude was going to remember me, and probably have a laugh at my expense with his friends, and I was fully prepared to preemptively hate him.
"I'm Ryan, by the way," he said when he'd finished. He extended a hand, sure and steady, and I figured I could put off loathing him long enough for a handshake. Dude had really big hands, but soft, like he had a big bottle of lotion in his backpack. I had expected them to feel like shaking hands with my mechanic.
"Matilda. Call me Mat." It was instinct to tell people my nickname, even if I didn't like them, because I loathed Matilda. I had the paperwork to change it at home, but I'd never had the heart. It was my grandmother's name.
"You got a camp chair?" Ryan asked.
"Oh, hell."
"No?"
"I have one. It's just at home," I said, just so embarrassed. More embarrassed than I ever thought I could be. I was just proving that I was a disaster every time I spoke, and he was just acting like everything was fine after he butted into my camping trip.
"Be right back!" Ryan said cheerfully. He jogged off, his pee-monster at his heels. I was still annoyed at him, but he brought back two camp chairs tucked under his arms and opened a couple of beers. IPA, which I wasn't a fan of, but in this case, it really was the thought that counted. Before I'd finished my beer, he had a fire going and was cooking red hots.
Okay, so maybe he wasn't so bad after all. I was willing to turn around on the dog, at least. Basil was clearly a puppy, prancing around the fire and sniffing everything, peeing on every tree and bush in the area. He wolfed down his dinner at top speed while we ate, and had to be distracted from begging for red hots with rope toys. It was a good thing, because even after the Pee Incident, it was really hard to resist those sad puppy dog eyes. I probably would have given him half my dinner if he hadn’t been lured away.
After dinner, Ryan and Basil left for a walk, and I was relieved to be left alone for a while. That had been the whole point of this trip, and with some daylight left I could get caught up on reading. Though the leaves hadn’t started to turn, the days were getting shorter. Fall was my favorite time of year, and I was looking forward to wearing comfy, worn-in boots and snuggly scarves and drinking hot cider.
Caught up in daydreams, I’d completely forgotten the book that lay open in my lap. Once I’d started reading, though, I couldn’t stop thinking about real life lurking at the end of the weekend. The lists just formed in my head on their own. I needed to get into true weekend relaxation mode and stop dwelling on looming unemployment, but thinking about my current situation came with its own set of worries.
