Page 79 of I Think He Knows
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Forty-five minutes later, I’ve assembled one pink unicorn tent for Legs, and one regular black tent for myself. Our sleeping bags are rolled out in each (also one unicorn, one regular—they didn’t have a unicorn bag in my size at Target, for some reason), and the airbeds are blown up.
Next door, Jared is putting the finishing touches on his own camping set-up.
“Looking good.” I hold up my can of soda and cheers him. “Shall we find the girls?”
“Sure,” my new friend replies, standing and stretching. I appreciate that he’s treating me like a regular person. Though I’m wearing a navy hoodie, shorts and a ball cap (seemed like good campout attire), I far from blend in with the other dads, who’ve mostly been shooting me surreptitious glances.
In the end, the campout is an absolute blast. Hot dogs and hamburgers, three-legged races and cornhole tournaments, roasting s’mores on the fire, and finally, everyone gathering around the big screen for a viewing ofThe Parent Trap,which Legs thoroughly enjoys. She sits criss-cross-applesauce on the grass, resting her head on my shoulder. Every so often, she cackles with laughter or looks up at me with adid you see that?!expression. Especially when the twins hatch the plot to fool their parents.
After the movie, she’s so sleepy that I have to practically carry her back to the tents. But when she sees the unicorn tent, she wakes right up. “Oh my gosh, is that for me?!”
“Sure is. There’s a matching sleeping bag inside.”
Legs squeals and unzips the tent. When she gets inside and sees the bag, she squeals again. “Keisha, I have a unicorn tent and sleeping bag, too!” she calls to her friend.
“Woah,” Keisha says excitedly. “Now we both have the best tents. Ella’s going to be sooooo jealous. Let’s get ready for bed and see if we can find her. I think she went to the bathrooms.”
With a huge smile on her face, Allegra grabs a comically large bag of night things that Lana Mae packed for her (some of which has to be unnecessary… I mean, fleece sleep socks? In this weather?) and then ducks off with Keisha. Jared comes over and claps me on the back. “Seems you’re doing absolutely fine with the father stuff so far, dude.”
“If buying things with unicorns printed on them is all I’ve gotta do to ace this, I’ll be fine,” I joke.
“I wish.” Jared’s eyes twinkle in the dark.
I duck into my own tent and flop down on my air mattress, which sputters a bit, making me offer up a quick prayer that I don’t end up on the ground by morning. Multiple nights sleeping on Lana’s couch has got my back in agony. I’m going to have to move in with my chiropractor when I get back to LA… Which I really don’t want to think about right now.
I pull out my phone.
Carter:Legs loves the tent.
Lana Mae:Knew she would. You two having fun?
Carter:So much fun. But don’t be surprised if Legs suddenly starts pretending she’s her own long-lost twin.
Lana Mae:So, basically, if she starts using the word arse?
Carter:Don’t forget knickers.
Lana Mae:I never forget knickers.
Carter:Glad to hear that ;)
Lana Mae:You know what I meant!!
I laugh as I click my phone screen off and put it down on my chest. Since our engagement party last week, all I can freaking think about is Lana Mae. How she feels, how she smells, how close I was to kissing those lips and finding out what she tastes like…
Jeez, how badly I wanted to kiss her as we danced, our bodies close and our lungs breathless.
But I held off, remembering Elena’s words. If—when—I kiss her, I want it to be perfect. Just for us.
The morning after the party, Luke invited me to the Donovan family softball game. I went, unable to stay away from Lana for even a morning. Something changed in the way my best friend looked at me, the way she blushed when my eyes lingered on her face, the way her breathing sped up when I told her why I bought the ring. Like she, too, was remembering how our lips almost touched mere hours before…
It’s new territory for us. And I’ve been continuing to hold off all week, unsure what my next move should be. Unsure what all of this means.
Legs pokes her head into my tent, cute as a button in the thick flannel pajamas and infamous fleece socks. You know, for this positively balmy late May evening. “Hii!” she squeals, still high on sugar and unicorn consumerism.
I grin. “C’mon, kiddo, let’s get you set up in your tent.”