Akara adjusts his earpiece, his muscles flexed. “You ready for that shower?”
Her face reddens. Don’t blame her when Akara’s question could imply we’ll be taking a shower with her. Like we did after the cougar attack.
He runs a hand through his hair and his eyes drift over her for a second. “We’ll be outside the door.”
“Fuck, yeah. No, I knew that.” She’s quicker than normal hightailing it to the bathroom. And it takes me a second to catch up and jog out in front of her.
The campground only has one communal bathroom, equipped with three shower stalls. Before she reaches the knob, I open the door and check each stall. Confirming they’re empty.
I nod to Akara in the doorway.
He nods back.
Sulli bypasses me to the furthest shower from the door.
“We’ll be right outside,” I tell her. Christ, my voice sounds fucking deeper. “Yell if you need anything.”
She gives me a thumbs-up, her chest rising in a heady breath, then disappears. Tension strings between her and us, and I can’t cut it. The campground isn’t as private as the other one.
It’s not like before.
But holy hell am I pent-up. Moments like this from an Olympian are giving me Olympic-quality blue-balls.
Going outside, I shut the bathroom door and stand beside Akara.
He leans against the brick siding. “I screwed that up,” he exhales, his eyes drifting to the other campers. “I hate this campsite.”
“Copy that.” I pop a toothpick in my mouth. “Can’t even pee in the woods without looking over my fucking shoulder.”
We go quiet.
I want to ask him something. I glance at him, then scan the campsite.
He glances at me like he wants to ask something too, then looks away. “Are you going to say it or am I?”
“You are my leader.” I bite on the toothpick.
Akara goes ahead and asks, “Did we have a threesome?”
I lean back too. “Is it a threesome if you and I didn’t do anything?”
“Fuck if I know, man.” Akara snaps a finger to his palm. “I’ve never hooked up with a girl with another guy before.”
“Me either.”
Akara asks, “What about two other girls?”
I shake my head. “No, have you?”
“Once.” Akara frowns, thinking. “This felt so different than that. It wasn’t casual or…” He has trouble finding the exact words.
“Yeah, I know,” I nod, already understanding.
It was the most emotional, intimate moment I’ve ever had with a girl. And we didn’t even have sex. And another guy was there.
The worst part is liking what we did. Because one of us isn’t going to be with her. The silent fact lingers, and we share a more distraught look before our gazes return to the campsites.
“Incoming,” I say.
Two campers have left the orange tent.
A dirty-blonde, curly-haired woman and a wiry, white guy with a North Face headband venture our way.
Tilting my head, I whisper to Akara. “What do you know about them?”
“They’re a climbing team named Team Apex. They live in Bozeman, but they hop from campsite to campsite around the Yellowstone region for climbs.”
Do they have ulterior motives?
Some fans are masquerading as hecklers. They go in for a simple autograph or selfie but actually wish a famous one would do something awkward or say something stupid—just so they can post a human slipup for clout with their friends.
I mean, one snapshot of a glare, and they’ll just deem them asshole celebrities.
Truth: I prefer the clients who want me to shove strangers away from them. Like Xander and Sulli. I love when I can be short and threatening and not give a damn if a heckler throws a tantrum at my feet. I’ve had to haul asses away from Xander so that he could just simply cross the fucking street.
And while Sulli’s not nearly as famous or draws as many crowds, I’ll do the same for her.
Even now.
I gear up to lightly brush them off.
But I don’t expect what comes out of the guy’s mouth.
28
AKARA KITSUWON
“Ryke Meadows isn’t welcome on this mountain, and neither is his daughter,” the scrawny Team Apex guy states like this is a casual opener to a conversation. I recognize him from Instagram. His name is Lincoln and the girl beside him is Jordyn.
While he stuffs his hands in his pockets, he leans back on his heels like he nonchalantly said, hey, how’s it going?
Jordyn nods in agreement with him.
Lovely.
We’ve encountered two pricks who think a mountain belongs to them. Growing up in an affluent neighborhood, these are some of my least favorite people to run into. For Banks, who grew up in a poor neighborhood, these are also some of his least favorite people to run into.
He glares at them like they’re human stink bugs.
There’s less heat in my eyes. One of us needs to deescalate.
Calmly, I say, “I take it you’re not a Ryke Meadows fan.”
Banks effortlessly sidesteps to block the bathroom door fully, but they’re not paying him enough attention to notice.
Lincoln snorts. “The guy is a sellout, dude. Have you seen his Ziff commercial? He’s out there chugging a knock-off Gatorade for cash, and he wants to be known as the best climber? Fuck that.”
“It’s ridiculous,” Jordyn chimes in. “Climbing should be pure. Not something to be profited on.”
“Knockoff Gatorade,” Banks grumbles under his breath. They don’t hear, and I try not to smile. Ziff is a Fizzle product, and he might as well have insulted the Calloway sisters. Sulli’s mom.
Also, Ziff is quality.
I bite back an inciting retort. “Sullivan isn’t Ryke,” I tell them, hating that I even say these words because I’d like to defend Ryke too. But this will calm them faster, and we don’t need enemies at our camp. “She’s here to climb just like you two.”
“Not like us,” Lincoln points to the bathroom. “She’s in there alone. Taking up the whole bathroom. There are three stalls.”
Jordyn nods strongly. “Spoiled princesses shouldn’t be climbing Rattlesnake Knuckle. Tell her to stick to indoor rock walls.”
They both leave like that’s the endnote.
Shit.
“What asswipes,” Banks says gruffly. “Ben and Winona would never.”
“What?” I make a face.
“Those climbers don’t own this mountain,” he tells me more angrily.
I almost smile. “Don’t tell them that,” I say like an order. “We can’t have them pissed at us. It’ll just distract her.”
Sulli is going to eventually free-solo once she feels comfortable climbing the route.
Banks just nods, then grimaces.
“What’s that look?”
“I hate how easy it is for me to take orders that I don’t like.”
“It’s why you’re good at what you do,” I remind him. “Someone has to be the yes-man.”
“More like yes sir man.”
I give him a pointed look. “Start calling me sir and see what happens.”