Page 48 of Secrets and S'mores
“I know,” I say with a smile I can’t help. Her grin widens until she’s beaming at me.
“I didn’t see it coming, but I think you guys are good for each other. He can be kinda wild, but he’s hilarious and really sweet and I think that’s a good fit for you.” Hazel concludes, looking satisfied.
“I appreciate that, but-” I start, but Marigold stops me.
“Hey, we are here for fun. No more worrying about problems. Everything will work out, and we are here for some girl bonding. So, I say we prank the boys.”
“Slate was going to take them all out on a run,” Hazel muses.
“I have just the thing. I thought they were so funny, I ordered them for an art project or something,” Marigold says.
“What?”
Ten minutes later we’re sneaking into Marigold and Jasper’s cabin. It’s empty and no sneaking is required, but the girl bonding energy has gotten ahold of me and I can’t stop smiling.
Marigold comes out of their spare bedroom with a little baggy of tiny plastic chickens. She pops the bag open and pulls a few out to show us. They’re about the size of my thumb nail, and absolutely adorable.
“I was going to make something with them for Cedar,” she says quietly. “But this is better.” We each take a handful and begin moving through the cabin, stashing them in partially hidden places. Marigold takes the bedroom and tucks them into Jasper’s pockets. I tuck one behind the masculine looking bath products and then another behind the toothbrush that isn’t bright pink.
“Alright, I’m all done here,” Hazel whisper-yells.
“Me too,” Marigold answers.
“Alright, who is next?” I say, feeling ridiculously excited.
Fisher and Clove look a little puzzled when we arrive, but Hazel is honest about the prank and Clove laughs for a while before she can nod her approval.
Hazel picks her way through the rest of the house to find anything specific to the twins, while Marigold and I take their bedroom. We tuck little chickens into the shirt pockets of the plaid work shirts Cedar prefers for gardening. She places one on top of his gaming console. I slide a couple into each boy’s pillowcase and then tuck them up on the higher display shelves in between the various knickknacks from their childhood. One of them had a thing for painting pet rocks at some point, and they make the perfect platform for a chicken.
It’s odd being in his room without him. I’ve been in here before, but last time it was heated. The sheets are wrinkled and I remember the feel of his mouth against my lower stomach. Despite all the reasons I shouldn’t, I want him. More than just his touch. I’m quickly getting addicted to his thoughts, both the snarky ones and the kind ones.
“Okay, I think we’re done here. There’s only a few left to use on Slate,” Marigold says, snapping me out of my thoughts.
We walk back to Hazel’s cabin, and Marigold links her arm through mine. I stiffen, but then force myself to relax. It’s strange having female friends, but they’re sweet and seem supportive. As long as I don’t make any mistakes, maybe I can keep these friendships.
Hazel laughs her head off while she tucks chickens in Slate’s art supplies and then into his closet. Marigold drags me back to the sofa and we help ourselves to the snacks. I finally try a chocolate and it’s divine.Just as I’m reaching for my second one, my phone buzzes.
Sienna: I need you to get some information from that pack without them knowing.
What? Does she seriously want me to spy on them? They’re our allies and they’re trying to make good on that promise. Gritting my teeth, I type back.
Ember: That’s not a good idea. We need their alliance.
Sienna: That’s why I said without them knowing.
She sends a list of reports, like the locations of their security cameras and the schedule of patrols. Everything they’d need to raid the pack.
Ember: Don’t ask me to do this. It’s not right.
Sienna: This is your dutyand it’s an order.
Ember: Why? How is this going to help the shit show you’re dealing with?
Sienna: Do not question me. This is necessary, and you’re going to do it.
“Everything okay?” Marigold asks. I click my phone off and stow it away.
“Sorry, my mom is being annoying,” I say, quickly picking up my half-melted margarita and sipping it.
