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The sleeping arrangements remained regardless. If not to protect them from the wild animals, then at least from the cold.

While the three had slept soundly, you stared into the partial darkness with heavy eyes. A small electric lamp shed its dim yellow light behind the sleeping bags, and it allowed you to see the lovely face of Lainey on your left. It didn't matter that she had an arm and a leg right on top of you--- she was perfect.

On the other hand, even the peaceful, quiet face of John to your right made you sneer. To think you had to sleep beside him, a complete stranger! Lainey was crazy.

His stupid mohawk looked even stupider, and his beard and mustache, looked, well... surprisingly well kept.

When morning dawned, the men were the first to rise. They let the ladies sleep in for a bit while they headed down to the nearby creek to take an early morning dip.

By the time they arrived, the ladies were up, fresh as flowers. The scent of coffee, tea, grilled cheese sandwiches, and sausages beckoned them like the Pied Piper. They appeared from behind the trees, bare chested and towels around their necks, fully awake from the cold bath.

"Mornin'!" chirped John, waving at you and Lainey. "Smells good."

"Where did you guys go?" asked Lainey, leaning back from the fire.

"Went for a little swim," Simon replied. "I told Johnny about the creek yesterday and he's been hankering for a cannonball ever since. He screamed when he hit the water, by the way."

"I did no' scream!" protested John, eyes darting to you for a split second.

"Really? So whatever we heard of a monkey maniacally screaming in the distance was you?" Lainey smirked.

John continued to protest it was not him and that she must've been dreaming. Lainey only shrugged.

"Whatever, come and eat before the food gets cold. And don't mess up the tent with your wet feet! Wipe them before you get inside," Lainey shouted as the men walked past them.

"Yes ma'am," Simon huffed.

They disappeared inside, and you let out a sigh you didn't know you were holding. Your eyes sharpened over the sausage frying on the pan, the flames licking the rim. Lainey turned the sausage over with a spoon, scorched side up. She cracked an egg on the edge of the pan and down plopped the contents, sizzling loudly. You watched as she added three more.

"Can you open these?" she asked, pushing a bag of canned beans at you. "The opener is inside."

"So we're having a Full English today?" you asked, picking a can and turning it over in your hands.

"Half English. Because we don't have tomatoes, mushrooms, or bacon," Lainey replied, laughing.

You smiled as you opened the cans and handed them to Lainey. She dumped them out in a pot and replaced the frying pan with it. You helped her plate the sausages and the eggs, and assembled the sandwiches.

When you set the plates on the table and returned to Lainey's side, you found her gaze on you, searching and curious.

"What?" you asked.

She gave you a tired little smile. "I hope you'll be better friends with John," she said.

Your face contorted with your frown. "And why should I be? Not everyone is meant to be friends."

Lainey shook her head as she dug a spoon into the syrupy beans and gave them a stir. "He looks like he wants to be your friend. You should give him a chance, you know. As adults, it's difficult to find people who will be friends with us. Don't you think you should take the opportunity while it's there?"

You sat down beside her, watching the beans bubbling. Your knees pressed against your chest. "What if it doesn't work out?" you whispered.

Lainey bumped your shoulder gently. "Then it's okay. Like you said, not everyone is meant to be friends."

Your jaw clenched. "And then what about the emotional investment? If the friendship doesn't work out--- what then?"

Your friend sighed. "You think too much. There is nothing else to do but to let go and forget about it."

"Easy for you to say."

Lainey didn't answer, but she didn't pull away from you. Neither did you. Your head nestled against her shoulder, the only comforting place you knew.

You knew John wanted to be friends. It was obvious. The way he looked at you when you danced with Simon the previous night, you saw it intensifying in real time.

You weren't even sure you wanted to be friends with him right back. He seemed nice, even if he had a stupid haircut, too blue eyes, and a stupid accent.

You groaned in frustration. Lainey shook her head and put an arm around you. "There, there. Don't break your head about it," she assured you.

The men came out all dried and dressed and gathered around the camping table to feast.

"You boys better finish up all the beans or else I'll shove them down your hole. And don't ask me which hole," threatened Lainey as she brought over her cup of tea to the table.

"Finish the beans? Easy. I can eat this whole thing by myself," bragged John. He ripped off a bite of the sandwich and chewed. "Wow, fuck me, this is so good."

"____ made it," Lainey said, throwing you a sly glance. "She's always in charge of the sandwiches."

"That so?" John smiled at you brightly. "This is amazing. I'd eat a hundred more."

You looked down at your plate, suddenly feeling shy. "Thanks," you muttered.

Lainey watched with secret satisfaction the way John's eyes sparkled at the sight of you. She stabbed her fried egg with her fork and slid it onto one empty slice of bread before ladling a spoonful of beans over it. As she took a bite, her eyes darted between you and John. He stole numerous yearning glances, while you had your eyes fixed on the sausage you were cutting up.

"We're going hiking after this, right?" Lainey asked.

"Yeah." Simon nodded. "Up to Stonehall Castle. It'll be quite a hike. You can handle it, Johnny?"

John mumbled incoherently around the spoonful of beans in his mouth.

"Okay, but make sure you don't forget anything," Simon replied, shaking his head. "You always forget to take an extra bottle of water with you."

The ladies exchanged looks. How on earth did Simon understand him?

---

The four of you set out on the hike. It was going to be five kilometers all the way to Stonehall Castle, but the terrain would be pleasant and not painfully steep.

Lainey brilliantly paired you and John together. "Just talk to him," she said when you tried to argue. "And try not to roll your eyes every five minutes. Simon has known him for a long time. You can rest assured that he's harmless."

You relented. Just like you, Simon was picky with his friends. Any friend he had had to be trustworthy and truly good. Since you esteemed Simon, you decided to just give it a shot.

John whistled a little tune while you all walked. Lainey and Simon walked ahead, leaving both of you to yourselves. Your mouth remained obstinately shut, and your eyes fixed on everything else but the man with you. Gravel and leaves crunched under your boots, birds and squirrels chattered in the trees, but you made no sound.

"What makes a sandwich truly good?" asked John suddenly.

You fought the urge to roll your eyes. "Quality ingredients, cheese and something pickled."

"How do ya make one?"

"Simplest one is thinly sliced red onions mixed into a brine of vinegar, sugar, salt, and warm water. Leave for thirty minutes and you can add it to a sandwich. It'll give it a nice crunchy tang."

John looked at you with so much admiration then that it made you squirm. "The sandwiches I make always turn out boring. I'll try a pickle next time."

Peckle. That's how he pronounced it in his stupid sounding accent. Flattening out all the vowels. It sounded funny.

"Why are ya smiling?" he asked, the corner of his lips twitching.

You pressed your lips together. "I wasn't."

"I must've said somethin' funny."

"No, not at all," you answered, clearing your throat.

He let out a quiet "Hmm", and walked on beside you. From the corner of your eye, you noticed him stealing looks at you.

"Tell me something," he began.

"Hmm?"

"When ya meet a guy and he finds oot ya like makin' sandwiches, does he say 'Go make me a sandwich'?"

You grimaced. "That has happened way too many times for my liking."

John sucked in a breath. "Och. I'm sorry."

Silence again. Gravel crunched, birds conversed, trees rustled, and the wind whispered. Ahead of you, Simon and Lainey were debating and arguing about something. Probably some nonsense like, how the burning of the library in Alexandria affected the career of Benedict Cumberbatch.

"What was the name of that song you and Lainey sang last night?" John spoke again.

He never runs out of things to say, does he? You thought. "Bayou Woman, by Tony Joe White."

"You like it?"

"A lot."

"Why?"

You looked at him. He stared you, eyes shining with curiosity.

Goodness, his eyes were so blue. And that was a complaint, not a compliment.

Light colored eyes had this uncanny quality of almost peering into your soul, and you kind of hated it.

At least, when you looked into Simon's brown eyes, it was like looking into an abyss. Much more comforting.

You looked away. "Because I like the singer's voice. It's so deep and... kind of sexy. And the song," you sighed, "it's so sultry and mysterious. I love it."

John asked if you had the song on your phone so he could hear it. You did, and when you started playing it, he walked close beside you, leaning into the phone speakers. Tony Joe's voice came crooning, simultaneously smooth and gravelly. His listener groaned.

"Och, that voice is criminal. I'm pregnant now," John exclaimed, a hand on his chest.

A giggle slipped out of your mouth, surprising you. He grinned widely.

"I can see why ya like him. Suggest me some more of his songs and I'll listen to them," he promised.

You blinked. It was rare to meet people your age who enjoyed old songs. Lainey was one, but she leaned more towards trendier songs.

"You like these types of songs?" you asked, pausing the tunes.

"I do now. I found oot somethin' new about myself. Thank you." And he gave you a smile so charming and sweet that it gave your heart the tiniest flutter.

Over the course of the five kilometer hike, every moment and every syllable uttered by each of you made you and him the more comfortable. So much so that by the time Stonehall Castle was in sight, your face glowed with delight from smiling and giggling. Lainey and Simon, who were still ahead, often stole glances at both of you. And upon finding you so diverted by John's conversation, they turned forward, sighing with relief and continuing their ridiculous debate.

Stonehall Castle was a large, ancient stone fortress sitting atop a hill. Behind its environs boasted the view of a deep valley of the lushest green trees and grass spreading into the blue hills as far as the eye could see. The steep, uneven stone steps leading to the castle was the hardest part of the hike.

After a ten minute break at the base, the four of you scaled the long, winding flight of stairs. Not even halfway through, the muscles in your legs screamed, burned, and cramped up in protest.

"I can't go on," you complained, leaning against the rocky bannister.

Simon, who was just ahead of you, staggered and slowed. But Lainey sped up the stairs with the agility of a deer, not stopping even to take a breath.

"Look at her go," John said, stopping beside you.

"You barely look winded," you observed, breathing heavily.

"The stairmaster is my favourite machine at the gym," he said with a proud snort.

Simon, who leaned his hip against the bannister, shook his head. "He can climb on it for an hour. It's mental."

"Are you lot coming or not?" came Lainey's voice echoing from the top. She sat at the very head of the stairs, stretching out her legs and waving her arms.

Simon waved back. "Let's go," he told both of you and turned forward, taking one step.

John looked at you, wearily straightening up and taking a deep breath in. He held out his hand to you. "Here. If ya ever feel tired, I'll pull ya up."

"No, I think I'll be okay," you said, shrugging slightly.

Simon, who was still within earshot, interjected. "I would take some support if I were you. We've got a long way."

You looked up at the summit. Lainey was a tiny speck of pink and blue. Sighing, you slipped your hand into John's.

His hand closed around yours, nearly swallowing it whole. It was warm, a little sweaty, but his grip was firm and solid.

The three of you started climbing. Step by step by step. Your thighs wailed and your knees buckled. Every time you opened your mouth to complain, John tugged your arm.

"Hup. I wouldnae stop if I were you. Keep going, hen," he'd encourage, squeezing your hand in his strong, reliable grip.

There was that little zing! again. All that wild fluttering in your chest.

When was the last time you've had a strong, confident man help you out like this?

"WOOO!" Lainey screamed as the three of you joined her up at the summit. Her shriek echoed, and the hills called back just as joyfully.

"Finally, we made it," you gasped. "That was crazy. I'm never doing that again."

John squeezed your hand, gently this time. "I think you'll do it again. A view like this is worth climbing a million flights of stairs."

But he wasn't looking at the castle or the valley.

Your heart stuttered. Your gaze darted away as you slowly pulled your hand out of his. "For you, maybe. You're the bloke who likes the stairmaster."

His fingertips lingered before pulling away completely. 

Part 3 coming soon :)

"That guy is Simon's friend, alright? Let's make him feel welcome now. Simon really wanted him to come because he loves camping and hiking."

"Well, I don't care."

Lainey rolled her eyes. "Why are you so against him anyway?"

"Because we specifically decided only you, me, and Simon were gonna go. Must we always have some John, Dick, and Harry with us that none of us know--- and announce it last minute?" you complained, crossing your arms.

"It's Tom, Dick, and Harry," Lainey corrected.

The person in question, John, pointed something out to Simon in the sky. Both of them burst out laughing. You sneered.

"Okay, look, I understand. And I'm sorry we didn't tell you earlier. But it's gonna be rude if we send him away now. It's just gonna be three days and it'll be all over. You'll never see him again," Lainey assured you, hauling her backpack on the back of the truck. "Boys, let's get going!" she called out.

All the doors slammed shut. Simon got to driving and Lainey rode shotgun to give him directions to the camping spot and do her function as the DJ. You, unfortunately, had to sit in the backseat with the new guy.

You obstinately stared out the window at the moving scenery, feeling John's eyes on you. From the corner of your eye, you detected him constantly leaning forward, possibly to catch your attention. It was going well until he tapped your shoulder.

"I didn't catch yer name," he said when your turned to him.

Up close, he was a decent looking man. You thought his mohawk was tacky--- a very 2016 metrosexual football player hairstyle. His eyes, you decided, were too blue for your liking. And his Scottish accent was so strong, it gave you jitters. Still, just to be polite, you told him your name.

He grinned. "John MacTavish. You can call me Johnny."

You smiled tightly. "Good to meet you, John." And then you turned to the window and didn't talk to him for the rest of the drive.

After several bumpy off-road tracks, the pickup finally stopped in front of a clearing.

"Here we are!" Lainey announced, turning to the two in the backseat. Johnny cheered, while you grumbled and winced from his loudness.

The four of you unloaded the pickup, setting down ice boxes of food and drinks, a portable barbecue set, a huge tent, and camping chairs and a table. The men handled all the heavier stuff like the sack of coal and the barbecue set, while the women carried the chairs and table, unfolding and arranging them.

The four of you set up the tent. All of you would sleep in it for their three days, and you really looked forward to it. Maybe it would've been more enjoyable if Johnny MacDonald, or whatever his name was, was not around.

Lainey didn't know him very well, but with how chatty John was, she warmed up to him immediately. And while you and Simon cleared out the ground to make space for a fire, you asked,

"How long have you known him?"

"Too long," Simon grunted, digging the earth with a shovel, making a shallow hole.

You watched John as he and Lainey loaded up the barbecue grill with some newspapers and coal. Lainey threw her head back, laughing hard at something he said. A proud smirk tugged John's lips as he struck a match and tossed it in the grill. They peered over it, waiting for the fire to catch.

"I think it's clear enough," Simon huffed, standing up straight. "Can you get some wood?"

You walked off towards the pickup where the wood was still in its place. Gathering an armful, you slowly made your way back.

"Oi, need any help?" John came up to you, smiling eagerly. "I can carry some, if you want."

"No, thanks," you replied curtly. "I can do it myself."

You walked on fast, trying to shake him off, but he followed you all the way to where Simon was.

"Mate, the fire is not starting," said John to Simon. "Have a look at it, will ye."

Simon nodded. "I'll leave you and ____ to set up over here then."

Your eyes widened. No, no, no. You didn't want to be left alone with John. He'd talk your ears deaf.

But Simon didn't notice your fright, or chose not to. He walked off to Lainey, who was scratching her head in confusion.

You dropped the wood into the shallow hole, and they clattered in a pile. Sighing, you brushed the little splinters of wood off your t-shirt. John's gaze settled on you as you knelt down on the dirt.

"You have something to say?" you asked as you arranged the wood.

He gave you a smile. "I was wondering... Do ya often go camping with Lainey and Simon?"

"Yes, very often. Once a month if we can help it. And just the three of us," you said pointedly, grabbing a bunch of newspapers you had beside you, "unless Lainey suddenly decides to include a fourth person."

John squatted beside you, but kept a friendly distance. "And ya don' like an addition?" he asked, still smiling.

You pursed your lips as you tore the papers into halves just big enough to fit under the teepee structure of wood you propped up. "That depends," you said vaguely.

John continued to look at you, eyes darting from your face to the match box in your hand. You slid out a match and struck it against the side of the box, igniting a flame. You tossed it on the newspapers and watched the flame slowly consume the paper.

You gulped, stealing a wary glance at your companion. Shockingly, he didn't speak much. He respected the silence that settled over you, but boy, it was awkward being around someone new and not having anything to say.

John whistled as the fire caught up to the logs and wrapped its orange fingers around the cracked wood. "You're good at this. I should've asked you to light the grill over there."

You rolled your eyes. "This is basic stuff. Anybody should be able to do this. And look, Simon has already gotten it going." You looked over, seeing a cloud of smoke rising over the grill. Lainey clapped as Simon handed her the matchbox.

"Oh, yer right. I'll go over there and have a look," he said, giving you another smile before he got to his feet and walked off.

You didn't turn back to watch him go. Instead, your eyes settled on the roaring blaze before you.

His accent was annoying. He rolled his r's too much and it was obnoxious. The Scottish accent was obnoxious, you thought. Though the ones who inherited it didn't have a choice in the matter, you didn't care.

---

When the camp was set up and the grill steadily sending up the smell of buttered corn cobs and cooking meat and vegetables, all of you huddled around the fire. The Sun took away its warmth when it retired for the night, leaving a damp chill in the air that could almost be tasted. The fire supplied the warmth and you happily toasted your hands over the flames, turning them over for your chilled fingers.

Lainey sat beside you with her acoustic guitar. Over the sound of crackling wood, her voice rose with the music. Strings squeaked and plucked with her deft fingers. It was a sound so comforting that an involuntary smile graced your lips.

Simon sat across both of you with John, poking the fire with a stick, pushing the unburnt logs to the center. Sparks danced in the air. He and John spoke in hushed whispers, a secret conference.

"I don't think ____ likes me much. I canny think why," John confided.

Simon sighed. "Don't mind her, she's always like that. She'll probably warm up to you by tomorrow."

John turned the words over in his mind as he stole a glance at you. The fire gave warmth to your skin, but the smile added more. Whenever you turned to Lainey, it increased.

"Like a cat, huh?" John asked.

Simon nodded slowly. "Lainey, can you play Bayou Woman?"

At this suggestion, John saw how your eyes lit up like fireworks in the sky.

"That's her favourite song," Simon informed John in a whisper.

Lainey began playing the intro, looking at you with interest. Both of you sang the first verse aloud, and with spirit.

Across the river an owl was callin' As he slowly made his rounds A midnight dew was softly falling On the ground, on the ground

"Simon, dance with me!" you said in between, jumping to your feet.

"Should I really?" Simon protested with a sigh, but rose anyway and walked over to you.

She was standing by the campfire I watched her move into the dance

Simon's arm encircled your waist and he held your hand, spinning you around. You laughed, and Lainey smiled as she sang.

And when she looked at me with those sexy eyes They seemed to say, "Hey boy D'ya wanna take a chance?"

It was at that moment, you stole a glance at John. More conscious and embarrassed than flirtatious. More "I wish you weren't here to see me like this" than "D'ya wanna take a chance?"

But John didn't have such complicated feelings. Your eyes met his, for the first time that day, and he was gone.

Bayou woman you make me feel it Dancing barefoot in the night Moving softly in the shadows In the pale moonlight

John watched you and Simon dance, utterly dazed, lips slightly parted.

When he first saw you, he thought you were pretty--- the sort of feeling one has when they see a beautiful flower. You look at it, move on, and forget about it.

But now, it changed.

You were gorgeous--- like a sunset over a parking lot that you just can't help but be awestruck by. You gaze at it, take a photo, and be upset that the camera didn't do it any justice.

You turned away from him, and disappointment trickled over him like the dew falling from the trees.

Tomorrow, he hoped, you would warm up to him.

Part 2