28
JOEL
Pain shoots up my arm like a bolt of electricity. “Fuck.”
I rub my elbow and stare at the perpetrator: the towel bar in this miniature closet aka RV bathroom. I’m trying to maneuver my body so I can properly brush my teeth without killing myself.
“You okay in there?” Adrian’s voice is muffled through the door.
I roll my eyes but take my tone down to appreciative. The campground bathroom had a mile-long line, and Adrian was good enough to let me barge in even though he was already sound asleep. “Yeah. I’ll be out of your hair in a couple of seconds.” I wait for another response, and when I hear Adrian’s rumbling snore signaling his return to his afternoon nap, I breathe a sigh of relief.
For five days, I haven’t had any time to myself. Living and working with three—or four now—other people twenty-four/seven has brought me back to my time as a soldier in basic training. I’m living in a vortex, where my perspective is skewed and every little thing is pissing me off.
Like how this bathroom is so narrow I can touch opposite walls when I extend my arms outward in any direction. How this RV rocks no matter how gently I walk to the front door. How I can’t help but see Victoria, half naked, leaning against the counter of the kitchenette.
How I wish she were here and not with Luke.
Talk about a fucking sock in the gut. After a near-perfect segment where we were able to play off each other and where I swore the chemistry was palpable, she leaves to be with him.
I changed my own rules. I thought twice about walking away. I let her matter to me.
Not once did I think she would flip the tables.
And what did I do? Absolutely nothing. I saw how he was looking at her: he was proud of her; he grinned like he had something to do with her success, even if he had jack to do with it.
I didn’t say a damn thing because I didn’t think she would leave, and when she stepped out of the tent, I deflated into the man I was trying to move away from, the one who’d been all right with letting life and people pass him by.
I am such a dumbass. This is what I get for throwing myself into situations, for expecting more from others and from myself. Earlier today, when she laid our relationship on the line and called it what it was—temporary and casual—I’d gotten offended. But weren’t those the things I wanted? It was me who set the terms.
After throwing water on my face, I dry off my hands roughly on a towel, then walk out of the bathroom. The shades are drawn, and the only light in the rig is the lantern perched on the vinyl kitchen countertop. I tiptoe my way out and pass Adrian, a lump in his sleeping bag. It’s only 5 p.m., but this trip is taking its toll on the group, and we’re all exhausted.
When I open the rig door, I see the outline of a person crouching in front of the fire ring. Victoria. Except when I leap down the stairs, the outline takes the shape of a man.
Disappointment courses through me, but I drop into the chair across the fire ring. “Hey, Lowell. Didn’t think we were going to do a fire tonight.”
“Yeah, everyone’s tuckered out. Tara’s in her tent asleep, too.” He clicks on the long-nosed lighter, firing up the kindling in between logs. “I was craving a s’more though.”
“Well, shit, hook me up.” Realistically, I’m not going to be able to sleep tonight, not until Victoria gets back, anyway. This would be a good chance to catch up with Lowell after today’s segment. As a crew we watched the final product before our late lunch of Arby’s takeout, since our resident cook was gone.
I accept a marshmallow-loaded stick from him and wait for the roar of the fire to settle. “Great work today. What did you think?”
He gazes up at me through thankful eyes. “That means a lot, man. It was a rush, being the solo cameraperson. I was grateful for Tara; she knows what she’s doing.”
“Yep. She’s a little heavy on the school spirit, but otherwise, I trust her eye, and you should, too.”
“I’m still wondering what I like most. Film? Television? Journalism maybe? How did you know what you wanted to do?”
I stick my marshmallow into the fire. After a second, it catches, and I pull the stick out, twisting it to spread the burn until the marshmallow chars all the way around. The flame dissipates. “In the beginning I wasn’t picky about where I would go as a cameraman—I just wanted to work. I bounced around to different projects, then landed with Food Right Now. Been there for a couple of years doing reality-type and live stream gigs. Graham cracker?” I grab a couple of crackers from Lowell. “But, yeah, there’s a rush in journalism, in reality TV–type shows, or live stream. The entire environment has a level of stress, because you can’t re-create scenes. Film crews will say that they have their magical moments, too, but out on the road where you’re dealing with elements you can’t control, drama has its way of surfacing.”
He leans forward in his chair and extracts the marshmallow from his stick, playing with it first before popping it into his mouth. “I can see that. Like that last couple you shot: Bryn and Mitchell.”
I nod, biting into my s’more. “Exactly.”
“Or like you and Victoria.”
A cracker crumb gets caught in my throat. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Aren’t you hanging out waiting for her?”
I hedge my answer. “No. I was actually about to head to my tent but stopped to keep you company.”
“Hm-mm.”
My muscles tense at the insinuation. “What do you mean, hm-mm?”
He shrugs. “Didn’t say a thing.” Settling back into his chair, he spins around, as if to see if anyone is within earshot. He changes seats to the one next to me.
“I know your secret,” he whispers.
I imitate his eagerness but make sure to top it off with sarcasm. “What secret?”
“You know . . . that there’s something going on between you and Victoria. I mean, that’s the reason why Olivia Russell decided to put the both of you in the shot, right? You two have some mad chemistry from where I’m standing.”
“Yeah? Well, your view is a little skewed. There’s nothing going on between us. We knew each other before this gig, so there’s going to be some chemistry, but not like you think.”
“If you say so.” He laughs.
I feign ignorance, though irritation courses through me. Are we that obvious to the whole world, and what does the rest of the crew know? I gobble the last couple of bites of the s’more, and stand. “I’m gonna get rid of the garbage. Take care of the fire for me?”
“No prob.”
“And I’d appreciate you not spreading that thing about Victoria and me around, because you’re wrong, you know.”
“Got it. Your secret is safe with me.” He gives me a thumbs-up.
I hoist myself to my feet and haphazardly gather napkins, empty soda cans, and bottles of water from the picnic table. Worry nags at me that our newest cameraman might know too much, but I push it aside when I pass by the RV window and hear Adrian’s rumbling snores.
I check my phone. Four hours have passed. Where is she?
After tying up the garbage bag, I send Vic a text message: Fair warning. Adrian took your bed. I’m grabbing your sleeping bag and throwing it into his tent.
And I do exactly what I say in the text, taking my time and waiting for the phone to buzz with a response in my pocket, though it doesn’t come.
Still antsy, I grab the garbage and hike out to the campground entrance to unload both it and my annoyance off my shoulders.