Something Wilder

“Hmm. Well, when I was a kid, I used to go to sleepaway camp every summer and hated it. I’d spend more time dreading the day my parents would drop me off than I physically spent at the camp. I was an anxious child, so I never canoed or did the obstacle course… or anything but ceramics and campfire songs, really. Last night, I really didn’t want to be here. But after sleeping on it, I’m thinking of this as a camp do-over.” He glanced at the others before doing a little bow in his seat. “Thank you.”

Nicole snorted. She had a weakness for the soft, earnest ones. He’d already won her over.

“Terry?” Lily said. “Now it’s your turn.”

He took his time setting down his fork, folding his napkin, holding court. “I’ve been out here a number of times,” he said, reaching up the sleeve of his camo T-shirt to scratch his shoulder and expose his relatively unimpressive biceps. “Depending on where we’re headed, I might have some suggestions on more efficient routes. In my day-to-day life I run the Cabela’s in Newark.”

“He works in the stockroom,” the loud one interjected.

“—with a flourishing side business of my own.”

The loud one again: “He sells hacked iPhones.”

Lily was tempted to remind everyone that they’d get a turn and to stop cutting in, but Terry was already on her shit list; she just let them roll with it.

For his part, Terry easily ignored the interruptions, leaning back as though holding their rapt attention. “I consider myself an adventurer overall. A hunter. I like getting outside, shedding the bullshit of society. Lately it’s too much homo everything and gender-neutral whatnot. Jesus Christ. Outside, at least I can embrace what it means to be a man.”

Lily felt her fists instinctively curl with anger.

“So far I’ll admit he’s my least favorite,” Nicole said, voicing Lily’s thoughts, without any attempt to lower her voice. Leo choked on a bite of bacon.

Lily gave her a warning glance, and Terry continued. “I attended the fourteen-day Ultimate Man primitive living course in Boulder, paddled a couple hundred miles up the Colorado River, and did a bungee jump off the Bloukrans Bridge in South Africa.”

“You all did these together?” Lily asked incredulously.

The loud one pulled back in alarm. “Are you kidding me? Hell no.”

“No,” Terry clarified. “These pussies wouldn’t have made it out of the parking lot. These were trips I organized with the Cabela’s boys.”

“Terry doesn’t usually come on these trips,” Walter murmured.

Ignoring him, Terry glanced at Lily. “Sorry, am I allowed to say ‘pussies,’ boss?”

“What do you think?” she volleyed back.

Lily didn’t miss the way the other three guys seemed to want to vanish into the ether.

“How would I know what a chick likes?” he said, laughing cockily.

The loud one barked out a laugh. Lily gaped at Terry, wondering if the world had ever witnessed a self-own that slapped that hard. He hadn’t seemed to hear it, but out of the corner of her eye, she could see Leo bring his hands up to his face. She watched Terry pensively. “Are you going to be a problem?”

He smirked at her. “Wasn’t planning on it.”

“Glad we agree on that.” And Lily was officially ready to move on. “Blondie?” she said, turning to the loud one. “You’re up.”

The same age as the others and good-looking, with wavy blond hair and blue eyes, he stood, smiling a dramatically sexy smile. He knew it, too. In another world and on the right night down at Archie’s, Lily could imagine herself going home with him, primarily because she usually chose the terrible hot ones.

“I’m Bradley. I don’t answer to ‘Brad.’ I’m a professor of archaeology at Rutgers.” A professor of archaeology. Interesting. Lily had met her fair share of them through Duke’s work back in the day, and Bradley did not fit the type. Rather than wearing head-to-toe weathered North Face or Patagonia gear, Bradley was in a button-down western-themed shirt with the word BURBERRY emblazoned across the chest and boots that were made of soft black leather with polished hooks and eyelets. What a knob. Those boots would be so covered in God-knew-what by the end of the week that they’d no doubt be left behind.

“I’ve been on a horse once or twice,” he continued, “but not for years, and even then, I’m sure I was pretty terrible at it. I play softball on the weekends, am the greatest uncle in the world to Miss Cora, and run once in a while with that loser down there.” He pointed to Leo. “Basically, I’m here because I just want to be a goddamn cowboy for a week. Do I pass the test?” He dug his hands into the pockets of his very blue, very new jeans.

“Works for me,” she said with an easy shrug, and Walter gave him a sweet yay as Bradley took his seat.