Fuck.
I try one and barely chew before spitting the hunk in the flames too.
“Here.” Akara comes closer. “Let me help.” He’s about to take the pan from my hand, but I rock back.
“I’ve got it. You’ve already had time with her alone in the tent. Just let me try to make a fucking pancake.” I have some batter left. And this would be a power-move on my part if I could actually cook a goddamn fucking pancake.
Akara is like a king, bishop, and rook on a chessboard. I’m just one knight trying to move in an L-pattern that makes no sense half the time.
After I toss the third pancake on the plate, I pour more batter in the frying pan.
Akara sinks down on a rock across from me. He just keeps looking at me.
“What?” I ask.
“I’m not used to seeing you this frustrated. Not much gets under your skin. Except me right now.” He sends me an apologetic look.
I exhale roughly, hating being in a state of agitation. Feeling like I’m going to come up short when I pride myself on being there, without question or hesitation, for people who need me.
Quietly, I tell him, “It’s the situation. I’ll get over it.” I pass Akara a bowl of scrambled eggs.
“Thanks.” He finds a fork. “Sulli is still sleeping, you know. We weren’t kissing or having some kind of marathon conversation—and I can’t believe I’m even giving you these details.” I can’t either. He didn’t have to tell me any of that. Akara stabs the eggs a few times, then says, “It’d be easier if you were some asshole blueblood like the Rooster.” His eyes meet mine. “Then I’d just kick your ass.”
I laugh. “You can still kick my ass if you want. But I’ll probably put you on yours.”
He shakes his head, smiling. “In your dreams, Moretti.”
I smile back. “I’d take that dream. It’d be better than the shit I’m sleeping through these days.”
Akara’s features grow more serious. “You’re having bad dreams?”
I lift a shoulder and flip the newest pancake. “Just restless ones.”
While he takes a strong bite of eggs, he stares at the ground. He must be thinking hard about something. If it were related to work, he’d confide in my brother in an instant. But I’m not sure if this is about security.
“Something wrong?” I ask.
He looks up and lets out a dry laugh. “Other than the fact that we both like the same girl?”
I flip the pancake again, looks golden. “Other than that unfortunate thing, yeah.”
“Unfortunate is an understatement,” Akara replies into a sigh. “I hate that we’re competing for her attention…her affection. Because I want it, but I’m also going to feel badly when you don’t get it. And I’m going to feel like even worse shit when you do and I don’t.”
“Same here.” I bounce my head, a migraine shooting pain in my left eye. I try not to close it. “Guess that’s what happens when someone you care about falls for the girl you like.”
“Yeah.” He runs a hand through his hair and then answers my earlier question. “I’ve been having dreams.”
I tense and scan him quickly. “That’s what’s bothering you?”
He nods once, then swigs from a water bottle. He’s about to reply, but Sulli zips herself out of the tent. She’s already dressed in workout gear and carries a perfectly coiled rope. “Hey, guys. That smells good.”
Before it burns, I toss the golden pancake onto a plate. “Lower your expectations. Akara’s food review came in and it wasn’t good.” I sprinkle the top of the pancake with yellow gummy bears. Standing up, I walk over to Sulli.
“Akara’s not a good food critic, so it’s probably amazing.”
“Hey, I’m a great food critic for mainstream tastes,” Akara defends. “Not your sweet-tooth concoctions.”
She smiles at him, then really looks at the plate I hand her. “Did you only put the yellow gummy bears on here?”
“Yeah,” I say. “Aren’t they your favorite?”
Her smile is on me now. “Yeah. I just…thanks.” She nods a lot. “That was really fucking sweet.”
My chest rises. It’s not often a girl calls me sweet.
Akara cuts in, “Wait until you taste it before you give him the five-star, Sul.”
“He can get five-stars for the fucking delivery and presentation.” She nudges Akara’s knee with her foot.
Akara smiles at me. “She’s giving you a participation trophy.”
I close one eye. Fuck this migraine. “That’s one more trophy than she’s given you.”
Akara flips me off.
I flip him off.
“Alright—none of that in my fucking presence,” Sulli says in panic. She wasn’t here earlier to catch our heart-to-heart. “All friendships must remain intact and survive the duration of Yellowstone. I have annihilated too many friendships already—I don’t want to be known as the fucking Friendship Assassin.”
We laugh, and Akara says, “That’s too cute not to call you that.”
“Stop,” she groans.
He feigns hurt. “But my Friendship Assassin.”
“Kits.” Sulli tries not to laugh. “I want to be the lover, not the fighter, definitely not the killer.”
The air heats as the word lover hangs for a much longer beat.
Sulli shifts her weight, her face brighter red. “Not that I know how to make love, but one day, I probably will.”
I tip my head, wondering why she added probably—like she’s still not sure if she’ll ever lose her virginity. So I tell her, “You will.”
Sulli gives me a once-over, flushing more.
“You definitely will,” Akara chimes in.
Who’s going to guide her? None of us have the answer. Only Sulli can make that decision.
Her gaze pings from me to Akara, back to me. “Cool.” She nods, then shakes her head in a cringe. “Cool? Fuck me.” Her eyes bug out. “I didn’t mean to say that out loud or in front of you two…fuck.”
Akara is laughing.
Hell, I’m smiling.
Instead of running away, Sulli stuffs her mouth with the golden, gummy bear pancake. While she chews with her mouth closed, she smiles at the taste, then makes a perfect sign with her fingers.
Take it back—I fucking rock. Move over, Thatcher, a new Moretti chef is coming to town.
Tension recedes as we joke some more about my cooking and Sulli’s sweet tooth. Soon, we all end up huddled around the fire. Sitting on three rocks, we eat the last bit of breakfast I cooked.
I switch back to a lost topic. “What kind of dreams have you been having?” I ask Akara.
Sulli frowns into a swig of water. “Did you have another one?”
Akara nods, then explains to me, “Lately it’s always the same dream—or at least a version of the same one.” He describes the snow and the steel room. “Last night, I saw it again.” He pauses, and Sulli and I exchange a concerned look.
Maybe he’s not getting enough sleep.
Akara massages his hands. “Only this time, I opened the door and found you two trapped inside.”