Page 25 of Campfires & Canines
Flustered? I can’t picture Slate flustered.
"I was the one tripping all over myself. I went down to the creek to commune with nature and all that. But instead, I got a half-naked guy fishing me out of the water. Mortifying."
Marigold's laugh goes silent and she lays her head down on the table. My side aches from laughing and my eyes blur with tears. I haven't laughed this hard in ages, maybe years.
When I find my voice again, I can't stop myself from continuing. "And then he got all wet helping me up. All those muscles. I mean, who has a six-pack like that? Not to mention the fact he was in sweatpants." I bury my face in my hands. Why did I say that?
"Stop,” Marigold wheezes. “I can't breathe!”
"Sorry." I give her a moment. "I'll admire from a distance. Because once he opens his mouth, he's a vibe kill."
Marigold takes a deep breath and grips the table edge to steady herself. "Well, you're getting a tattoo from Mr. Vibe Kill right after this."
"Oh my gosh, the tattoo." My brain shorts out for a second.
"Do you still want to get one?" Marigold asks.
"Totally," I reply. "It was all I could think about this morning. But then we were talking about abs, and I kind of got distracted."
"Don’t forget, the hands attached to those abs are going to be all over you."
I glare at her. "You're going to make it weird!"
"I think it's too late for that,” she chokes out, laughter taking over her again.
"I'm such an idiot." How am I going to manage to sit alone with him after this?
Once she's gotten ahold of herself again, Marigold asks, "Where do you want the tattoo?"
"Umm, would it be awful if I got it on my sternum?" I blush deeper. It's the only placement that feels right, but it comes with some complications.
"So you want those hands on your boobs?" she quips.
"No!" I open and close my mouth, struggling to answer. "Well, yes, but no."
"Sure." Marigold is positively smug.
"I can't deal with you right now." She is the worst and the absolute best.
"Me, or the wet abs?" she pushes, a maniacal gleam in her eye.
"You're insane." I bite my lip, failing to suppress a grin.
Marigold sips her lemonade as if discussing the weather. "You're the one getting a tattoo from him. Enjoy."
"I'm going to get you back for this," I grumble.
The trees sway above me as I melt into the hammock. Wavy oak leaves and spiky maple leaves mingle with the canopy of pine and fir needles.
Marigold returns to her students and I wait for Slate to finish up his work for the afternoon. It's so peaceful, I'm not a knot of anxiety for once.
"Hey there." Slate's voice caresses me and my body responds with a lurch low in my gut. Down, girl. He strides forward like a panther, his movements confident. "How was your morning?"
"Good. You?" I reply automatically, swinging into a seated position with my feet on the ground. My hair fluffs up from static. I flatten my palms over it, trying to tame the poof.
"Quiet. Marigold's good?" he asks stiffly. This is a lot of small talk for Slate. Is he nervous too?
"Yeah. We had a nice lunch. She's... funny." My throat tightens. If she tells him anything I said, I will die.
