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horseshoegirl · 5 months

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Set Me Alight - Part 1: Seventeen Going Under

📜I know I should be working on FFA (Forever After All). However, I got bit by this idea of a fire look-out of all things, then had a whole dream about it. Naturally, I had to fic it. Due to story choices and plot later in the series, I have made a fictional National Park. However, it is loosely based on Mount Rainer and Olympic National Park in Washington.

❗️+18, Strong Language, Enemies to Lovers, Original Female Character, Anything Can Happen in the Woods, Forced Proximity, Bradley Bradshaw x Natasha Trace, post-college daggers, Camping/Hiking AU.

Thank you to @desert-fern for helping me with the title!!

#6k Words

Masterlist | Part 2

Camping was the last thing you wanted to do on your week off.

It will be fun, Nat said. It won't be just the two of us going, she said. It's just hiking and a campfire and seeing the sights, she said.

It was not fun. It was not just hiking and a campfire. It was a fucking bad idea.

Why, you might ask?

It was hiking in a state national park, deep in the wilderness, with only a few fire lookouts as the closest thing resembling civilization. It was miles, miles, from your home state. It was going to be fucking cold, and wet, and rainy. It would be muddy slopes, climbing up cliff faces, and watching out for blind roots and sharp rocks haphazardly sticking up from the ground. You knew you wouldn't even get to enjoy the amazing scenery because you'd be too busy making sure you didn't accidentally die by stumbling over said rock or root down a cliff.

No, all that you could have handled, despite your initial protests. That wasn't the issue.

Because 24 hours post leaving your house and arriving in Seattle, she had failed to mention that fucking Jake Seresin had been invited along too.

It wasn't as if she didn't have a chance to. Oh no, there had been many ample opportunities for either her or her boyfriend, Bradley, to let you in on that secret. Like when the two of them picked you up from your apartment in the extremely early hours of the previous morning to start the journey to Seattle. Or the long drive there, or when you checked into the hotel that night.

Nat and Bradley had been shifty about who else had been invited in general too, but you suspected the usual group. Maybe their girlfriends, if the prospect of leaving the city wasn’t too much for them.

Despite your initial protests, you were actually excited to go. Lakespur National Park was a beautiful sight at any time of the year. The mountains were snow-capped and tall, like they were touching the sky. The trees were the brightest shades of green, especially after a bout of rain. The lakes and rivers were deep pools of unreal bright baby blue, and you knew from the website that there were a couple of waterfalls hidden amongst the trails. The cliffs were high enough, too, that if you managed to find a nice lookout, the views could have stretched on for miles. And neighbouring nearby, you could spot Mount Rainer standing non-threateningly as it could in the distance.

You wanted to paint as much of it as you could before the week was over.

You had awoken in your hotel room that morning in a good mood. You appreciated the few hours of sleep you could get before you had to spend a week in the literal woods, surrounded by bugs and animals who probably wanted to eat you, sleeping in a tent with nothing but a bed roll.

That same feeling carried over to now as you opened the truck door, the scent of dirt and fresh pine invading your nose. Grabbing the support handles on either side, you carefully lowered yourself to the ground, sunlight hitting the sides of your face. It felt good to be out here; the warmth, the fresh air, the sounds of nature going on around you in the early morning light.

Nat sighed affectionately, throwing her arms wide as if she was trying to hug the entire forest. "Ah, Nature!"

You rolled your eyes, but your smirk gave you away. "You said that yesterday morning when you picked me up. It's going to get old, really fast."

She closed her eyes, giggling to herself and starting to spin on the gravel, tilting her head back. You couldn't help but laugh with her as she twirled around, the stones and dirt crunching under her feet.

Nat’s friendship was the only one that had survived College. You’re not entirely sure how you became friends either; it just kind of happened out of the blue one day. She had been in a sorority and ran in the popular crowd, so to speak. You worked in the campus art supplies store selling paint and double-stapled-backed canvas’. And when you weren’t there, you were in the studio, painting or sculpting or doing something creative that usually ended up with you covered in whatever messy medium you had decided to work with.

From those things alone, she had no real reason to want to be your friend.

You suppose you could at least trace it back to that group project the two of had been assigned to do with two other people. Two other people who didn't do jack shit, despite multiple protests from both of you. The two of you had ended up pulling an all-nighter in your apartment off campus, and to your surprise, a girl from a high-ranking sorority had been way kinder than you expected her to be.

You wanted to say the two of you bonded that night, sharing stories and laughing at funny social media posts when you forced yourselves to take breaks. And when the project was done and over with, you didn't expect her to stay around.

But she did. Suddenly, in the aftermath, she was there, texting you about her favourite book series, dragging you out of the studio, and lifting your head off a literal canvas to ensure you had something to eat or drink. She'd sit with you in the library when you had to study art history and bring coffee. And when drama hit at her sorority residence, she moved into your apartment off campus.

That's how you met Bradley. And then his football team. And the biggest asshole to ever live. You regretted a lot of things on that night, and you not standing up to him was at the very top. Written in red. And underlined.

After what he said, after what he did, you never wanted to see his face again.

Once Nat steadied herself against the truck, you turned to catch your gaze on a few familiar figures unloading their gear. You waved hi to Mickey and Ruben as they made their way over to the three of you, gear and supplies thrown over their backs. Mickey was the first to reach you, sweeping you into a hug and ruffling your head over your baseball cap. You're smiling up at him when he pulls back.

"Ready for some adventure, Maeve?" he grins.

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe we’ll find some interesting things to get up to. Sightsee, tell ghost stories, see a bear or two.”

“Really, a couple of bears. You think I could take them on?”

You snorted, reaching up to slap the rim of his baseball cap down. “Only you would want to have a fight with one.”

“Come on, you’re not scared, are you?” he said, dramatically holding his hand over his heart before reaching for you. “Don’t worry, I’ll protect you.”

Suddenly, a new voice pitched up from behind him. "You are joking, right? You know he will be pushing the two of us in front of him and then running for the hills screaming like a little girl."

You giggled at Cora, his girlfriend's, remark as she pushed him out of the way to give you a bear hug. “The only way you’d ever come close to looking good in that scenario is her painting it.”

Mickey frowned. "That hurts my heart, baby. Really. You really think I'd leave you ladies alone to fend for yourselves?"

You and Cora snorted at the same time. "We know you would."

Mickey pouted, and Cora only laughed, resting her cheek on the top of your head as she laughed. But you were too focused on watching Jessica, Ruben's girlfriend, approach the group, and you had to brace yourself. While you hadn't known her long, Jessica's presence often accompanied an undercurrent of tension. Her lips were curled up in what you deemed a practiced, superficial arc, the kind of smile that was more a social formality than a genuine expression of pleasure.

"Hey Jessica," you greeted her with as much warmth as possible.

She offered you a smile, but it didn't reach her eyes, and you had to force yourself not to take a step back out of Cora's arms or shutter at those eyes, wanting to tear you apart. She looked harmless, with short brown hair that framed her bubbly cheeks. But inside, you knew and felt the familiar twinge of discomfort that came from interacting with someone who clearly harboured less-than-friendly feelings about you.

Instead, you searched for Nat, who was saying something to Bradley as she lay across the front seat of the truck, leaning across the centre console with the door wide open. You called out to ask her, "Who else are we waiting on?"

There was a long-standing pause before Bradley was the one to shout out, "I don't see Javy's truck yet!"

You were about to open your mouth to reply, the retort on your lips, before someone honked a horn, and you came face to face with Javy’s Blue Chevy, kicking up stones as the massive tires rolled into the parking lot. The metal frame sparkled against the early morning sun, and you had to cover your face with your elbow to shield your eyes from the glare. Ruben called out, clapping his hand against his fist, calling out, “They arrive, finally!”

Mickey reached over and slapped him on the back, letting his hand rest on his shoulder. “Fifty bucks says pretty boy spend forever getting out of the shower?”

You jolted at the nickname. To anyone outside the group, the pretty boy reference could have been referring to Javy. But you had the context. There was only one person they could have been referring to, and like a volcano, you wanted to blow your top.

It was at this very moment you realized Nat and Bradley had purposely lied to you by omission.

“Oh no,” you grumbled out, and Cora instantly stepped back, taking her hands off you as if you were on fire and holding them out in front of her. And the two idiots realized what they had admitted, eyes wide as they took you in.

“Oh, Maeve, we thought…”

“Thought what?” you seethed. "What did you think, exactly?"

Javy cut the engine of his truck and swung open the driver’s door, turning in his seat to see everyone, a huge smile on his face as he took everyone in. That was until he landed on you.

“Maeve…” he called out cautiously, hopping down and holding his hands out in front of him nervously.

Don’t Maeve me! Who is in your truck with you? And don’t tell me it’s just Veronica.”

Javy bit his lip, contemplating what he could possibly say to you that would get you to calm down and just listen. But the longer he took, the more you came to the realization that that asshole was, indeed, riding shotgun in his truck.

And when the front passenger door opened and closed, the second you saw the flash of blonde hair, your vision turned red.

And just let that - every single good feeling, every thought of not needing to worry about him showing his face - quicken into flashing white anger. The whole group seemed to know it too, tensing up as your face started to turn beat red, and your mouth was poised open, ready to give the worst shout of their lives.

"Fuck no, Nat! Absolutely fucking not!” You practically screamed, turning to face her with your hands on your hips. Mickey dropped his chin to his chest with a sigh. “Yup, there’s the Midge we all know and love.”

Natasha sighed, mocking your stance as she readied herself for the argument. "Come on, you wouldn't have agreed to come had you known."

"You're damn fucking right, I wouldn't have agreed!" you fumed. "Why on God's earth would you think a whole fucking week with the two of us in close proximity would be such a good idea?!"

Nat went to reply, but the sound of shuffling gravel and a low, resonant thud of weight shifting on the side of Javy’s truck interrupted her, letting all of you know who inserted themselves into the conversation.

"Good to see you still have that mouth on you, Midge."

You slammed your eyes shut in annoyance at the sound of his voice.

Midge.

The not-so-subtle nickname he had bestowed upon you that everyone had suddenly taken to using. They all figured it was in reference to your height, or maybe for short for your weird ass name, as Jake once called it. Out of all of them, including Nat, you were the tiniest of the group. The entire football team towered over you, and while they meant it affectionately, endearingly, in the kindest way possible, Jake had to be the cocky smart ass.

A Midge was also in reference to a fly. A small but fucking annoying fly. He just had to double-whammy you twice.

Bradley came around from the driver's side of the truck, a slight grimace on his face. "Sorry, Maeve, I thought she had told you he was coming.”

Nat might have played a part in not telling you Jake would be here, but she wasn't solely to blame for his presence. No, that was entirely Bradley's fault.

Jake was his best friend, after all.

You marched forward, staring into his face, a finger pointed and pressing deep into his chest. "Why the ever living hell did you invite him!?"

Bradley regarded you for a moment before letting out a sigh. "You know why," he mumbled under his breath only to you, looking down at the breast pocket of his jacket.

Your heart twinged in your chest. You did know why. You helped him pick out that ring. Bradley wanted to propose to Nat on this trip, and it only made sense he'd want his best friend around when it did happen. It quelled your anger for a few seconds.

You could have handled a day. Maybe. A morning or afternoon. A few hours. An hour. Yes, you could have managed to be in the same space as Jake for one single hour. One hour, with doors and indoor plumbing and a driveway where you could park your car for a conveniently easy escape.

Not a whole fucking week. In a forest. With him.

"Please, Maeve," Nat begged from behind you. "This week is important to me. To us. We just want to have a good time with everyone together.”

With your back still facing her, you slammed your eyes shut.

Only if she knew the real truth behind such a statement.

Letting your head rest back on your neck, you opened your eyes to stare up at the sky. You knew you had to do this for Nat. She was one of the few friends you really had, and she had done more for you than you ever thought possible.

You owed her that much.

You turned to face her, taking in her pouting lip before your eyes finally tracked to Jake. He had crossed his arms, still leaning up against the side of Javy's truck. You watched as he wetted his lips in amusement. Your eyes stalked the movement, and for the first time since he arrived, you finally set your eyes on him.

"Oh, come on now, Midge," the asshole grinned at you. "Surely we can get along for a couple of days."

You gritted your teeth, your face scrunching up in disgust.

It had been close to six months since the last time you saw Jake Seresin. He had brought some chaotic tramp who was obsessed with horoscopes and star signs to Nat and Bradley's housewarming party, offering up no conversation except she was a Cancer and that it had to be the explanation and answer to any bizarre behaviour she might possess. You hated that. You hated her, though hate was too strong of a word to use on someone you'd probably never see again.

It made you want to throw up to see how she clung to Jake like he was her personal meal and how he ate it up with no shame.

But Jake didn't look like he did back then. He was more laid back now, in a button-up shirt and a short beard, ray bans hanging from the hem of his shirt. Nothing like the stereotypical playboy college type with rich parents that you knew him to be. Not the man with sharply defined edges and polo shirts as if he was about to descend on his mother’s fancy golf club. Not if he had been handed everything in his life on a silver platter.

Turning your head, you saw Nat's pleading gaze, and when you turned to Bradley, he mouthed a desperate "please." Sighing, you motioned for him to open the tailgate, only to grab your hiking bag from the flatbed and hoist it over your shoulders dramatically.

Adjusting the straps on your shoulders, you huffed out, "Hell better be fucking freezing over if I was ever forced to get along with you."

Collective sighs went up around the group, and you swore you could even see a few sag their shoulders in relief. Yet, that cocky asshole only continued smiling, maybe even wider than before.

"Chin up, sweetheart. There are worse people you could be stuck with out here, in the wilderness."

Your cheeks felt hot. "I'm not your fucking Sweetheart, Asshole."

"Would you like to be?"

Six fucking months and he hadn't changed. Even before that, with how intermittently you saw him. You were too scared to do anything back then about him and his attitude and his fucking mouth.

Now? You’d hit him in a heartbeat now. You were about to, if not for a gentle hand on your arm that prevented you from stepping forward to take a swing at him.

"Come on, Midge, you can stay back with us."

You allowed yourself to be turned, coming face to face with Bob and his girlfriend, Grace. You unclenched your fists almost immediately.

You liked Bob. He was sweet and kind and always had a smile on his face. And Grace had been nothing but kind to you since the day you met her. She looped her arm through yours, securely holding it to her side.

"He's not worth the brain cells," she whispered in your ear. You giggled loudly.

Bradley whistled loudly, making the group gather around, placing him and Nat at the center.

“Thank you all for coming! We all need to check in with the park ranger first,” Bradley started. “But first things first, we need to go over the rules and responsibilities!”

Nat pulled out a piece of paper from her jacket pocket, unfolding the edges and holding it out in front of her.

“Bob and Grace, you’re in charge of campfires! That includes the wood, the setting up and putting out! We don’t need to create any forest fires, so you guys are on this one!”

It made sense, you thought. They were probably the most responsible out of the group. Though you were slightly surprised they didn’t put Bob in charge of the map.

"Bradley and I are in charge of food! You carry your own shit during the day, but at the end of the night, it goes in the bag to hang up in a tree."

Collective murmurs of agreement went around the group. Nat continued to sound out names and tasks. It was obvious Mickey and Cora would be deemed the group's first aid leaders, Mickey being a firefighter and Cora being a nurse. Javy and Veronica were assigned to be on the lookout for freshwater, though you suspected Javy would be more cautious of looking for the designated spots than Veronica would be. And Ruben and Jessica, you had to hold in your laugh when her face dropped into an absolute look of displeasure when Nat called out they'd be on trash and trail sweep duty.

“Finally, Midge and Jake.”

You raised your eyebrow at the implication behind the ‘and' and what form of torture she might have in store for you.

"Navigators," she called out, eyeing the two of you cautiously. "The both of you will take turns navigating us to all of our campsites, trading off the compass and the map. One day, it's Maeve, the other Jake."

You wanted to argue, to call out that Jake wouldn't be able to navigate himself, let alone a group of people, through a national park, but you stopped yourself. You knew of the delicate balance you needed to maintain. Nat knew it, too. It's why she approached you with a careful eye

“Don’t kill Jake,” she eyed you sternly before turning to Jake and pointing her finger. “Don’t kill Maeve.”

You sallowed. "I won't if he doesn't start it first."

From the sound of the shift in gravel, you knew Jake had set his eyes on you, and you could feel them burning holes into the side of your skull. You resisted the urge to meet his gaze, to challenge or confront the unspoken thoughts you felt hanging between you. Instead, you focused on Nat, nodding to acknowledge the assignment.

Nat knew better, glaring at the two of you discerningly. She knew the two of you well enough to sense the undercurrents of tension. You had been careful with her, never revealing the true reason behind why you held so much disdain towards Jake. And you had no idea what he might have disclosed to them, but you were sure it was laced with the same damn message as always, shouting it as loud as he could to the first person he saw.

Midge is a bitch. I don't know why you’d waste your time being around her. She is as two-faced as they come, and whatever she's said or done, it's a personal attack on me when I've done nothing wrong.

Nat sighed, her frustration evident. "I mean it. If you two can't get along, at least be civil. Or so help me, I'll feed both of you to the first wild animal I see."

You knew she was joking, but the seriousness in her eyes conveyed the underlying ultimatum.

"Fine," you huffed first. Jake rolled his eyes, huffing out a less than enthusiastic, "Fine."

You could almost hear the single collective thought of the group: 'This should be interesting.'

Although the pair of you agreed with Nat's terms, tension remained between you. Nat gave each of you one final, pointed look before rejoining the others, leaving an awkward silence in her awake.

Jake, with a knowing and equally cocky smirk, couldn't resist throwing in a final quip. "Who knows, maybe at the end of all this, we might share a tent," he called out over his shoulder as he began to walk away, his voice loud enough for others to hear.

Yet, all he did was loudly laugh at your reply when you heatedly shouted back in kind, "Fuck off, Seresin! Unkindly, fuck off!”

---

You reached the first campsite around early mid-afternoon, having navigated these woods thus far with the agility of a deer avoiding a thicket of thorns and stones, always aware and always at least several feet apart from the one thing you were sure would kill you if you weren't careful.

You had stayed at the back of the group with Bob and Grace as much as possible, catching up with them while Jake took the lead, navigating everyone toward what would be your home for the night.

Grace spent the time talking about her job at the museum. She was a curator, which is probably why you got along with her so well. While she was passionate about the history surrounding a piece of art, you loved the actual creation process. That's how she met Bob, who had been hired there as an archaeologist.

Somewhere along the way, you realized you were only catching snippets of the conversation, her latest exhibit she was building with Bob. You felt bad but placed the blame entirely on the asshole with the compass.

It was a miracle the group ended up at the actual campsite. Jake had done everything wrong. From holding the compass incorrectly to naming the wrong trail markers or reading the map as if it were a field guide to an 18-hole golf course at a rich man's club. With each move he made or every word he spouted, saying it was "This way" or "That," you had to bite your tongue. Even if you tasted blood, you weren't going to start something he couldn't finish.

It didn't stop the glares, though, or the dirty looks. Or the fact your brain couldn't stop trying to figure out what point he was trying to prove by dressing like that?! If you hadn't spent as long as you had hating him, you'd even go as far as to say he looked good.

Fuck Maeve, you are not going there!

Your home for the rest of the afternoon and night was a sparse little clearing framed by several big trees, the branches high enough that it seemed like they were protecting the space below. Everyone had instantly split up, searching for a spot where they might set up camp. You found one easily enough, not too far from everyone else but enough to make the space your own.

Setting up your tent, you watched with a smirk from a distance as Jake wrestled with his tent, the poles flying in all directions in some comedic fashion. You contemplated whether or not to go over and help him, though it almost seemed sweeter to watch him struggle.

The further away he was, the better.

You had strategically chosen a quiet corner, just close enough between Bob and Grace and Cora and Mickey. You wouldn’t dare go anywhere near Nat and Bradley’s tent unless you didn’t want to get a decent night’s sleep. You were already scarred from College. You didn’t need another instance topping that one.

Grace and Bob had already taken the liberty of making the fire for tonight, rearranging the designated stone pit in the middle of the site into the correct shape and loading it with firewood. Everyone was already sitting around it, off in their own stories and conversations before dinner. You’d initially been drawn into the conversation with Nat and Grace sitting next to you, but it had taken a different turn, and your initial laughter had sounded more forced than you’d care to admit.

And you were too busy watching Jake on the other side of the fire, waiting for the moment he’d strike. But the afternoon lagged on, and he never did. Not until he finally caught your eye, that familiar smirk playing on his lips - the one you know he knew got under your skin - that your ability to tolerate his presence cracked hard.

You stood abruptly, not allowing him the chance to wind you up like some toy.

"I'm going to go for a swim," you said pointedly to Nat and Grace, ignoring the asshat sitting in the corner. "I shouldn't be long."

They only nodded at you, continuing back to their conversation. Bob was the only one who seemed to address your remark.

"Be safe!" He called out after you. "The park ranger said to be on the lookout for bears!"

You mocked-saluted him with two fingers. "Scouts honour!"

You didn’t hear the hushed whispers or giggles you left in your wake from Jessica or Veronica, nor did you see how Jake’s eyes narrowed, watching you depart from the group.

The lake wasn't far off from the campsite, maybe about a five-minute walk. The promise of cool water and some peace and quiet to sort out your thoughts was enough to entice you away from the group and lift your spirits. You didn't know how many opportunities you would be able to find on the rest of the trip to escape like this, so you knew you needed to take them when you could.

In addition to the warning you got about the bears in the area, the other wildlife you might encounter, and even the strict warning the group received about this being peak wildfire season, the Park Ranger also mentioned this particular campsite would be the only one with decent cell service. If you wanted to call anyone before you ventured further into the park, you had better do it now.

You called your aunt as you walked. She picked up on the fourth ring.

“Did you step on a snake, or did you get mauled by a bear?”

“Hello to you too, Aunt Viv.”

Your Aunt Viv was considered the crazy one out of your family. Not because of her mannerisms or personality or the fact she probably was borderline close to adding “Friendly Wine Aunt” to her title, she was the only one to have broken off from tradition. She was, perhaps, one of your favourite people in the world for that reason alone.

“Well, when you told me you’d be spending a week out in some fucking forest, I assumed you wouldn’t have cell reception.”

You rolled your eyes, haphazardly avoiding a sharp rock sticking out from the ground, when you finally realized it was in your path.

“At this point, I wish it was one of the above. That way, I’d have an easy and reasonable way out,” you pouted.

There was a pregnant pause on the other end until you heard the thump of a bucket drop to the ground somewhere. “You were so excited to paint those landscapes. What happened? Is he there?”

You huffed. She knew you better than your own parents and your own brother.

“That obvious?”

She sighed through the phone, and you could picture her shaking her head. “Honey, nothing ruins your excitement more than that fucking waste of a man.”

You giggled at her remark. “I regret ever showing you his photo.”

“A woman my age can fantasize all she likes, even if he is a downright bastard.”

“And did say mention of said bastard just make you drop a bucket of apples?”

It was harvest season for her, all the way back in California. Aunt Viv’s apples were probably some of the best you could ever get on this side of the West Coast. Growing up, you always loved to run through the lanes of Galas and Smiths, climbing the trees for the best and brightest apples to eat.

“Don’t you worry, my dear. You know the worms aren’t that fast.”

You shook your head affectionately, finally lifting your eyes off the trail to take in the water. There was a part of you that regretted not bringing your sketchbook down with you, but you knew you could never do it justice. The blue of the water would never have matched the correct shade, and you wouldn't have been able to get the curve of the shoreline the right way or shadow the rivets of water at the right depth.

Sitting on a nearby rock, you dropped your head between your shoulders, letting it hang low.

“I don’t know what to do, Aunt Viv,” you sighed into the phone, pressing your hand to your forehead. There was another pause.

“Maybe you could talk to him about what happened?” she offered hesitantly.

“No, absolutely not,” you rushed out in a single breath. "I barely knew him for a single night before he started running his mouth about me. Why should I give him a chance when he never gave me one in the first place? Besides, he doesn't even know I know what he said."

You were met with more silence on the other end before she affectionately admonished, “Maeve, you don’t have to be scared of him. He’s just a man.”

Her words echoed in your mind, a gentle reproach that chafed against your pride. You weren't scared of Jake. Not really. Not of him, exactly, but of facing those feelings his words had stirred in you - feelings of inadequacy, of not being enough.

It held your breath hostage in a vice grip, tight.

“It’s one week,” you said, the words a half-hearted attempt to convenience yourself of the idea more than her. “It’s just one week where I can find ways to stay out of his way and not be a bother, and then I can leave and come help you out and drink all the dirty apple cinder I want.”

“You can have all the dirty apple cinder you want when you get here, but Maeve, don’t you shrink yourself down for a man who wouldn’t know a diamond if he held it in his hand, okay?”

Your grip on the phone tightened, her words stirring the embers of your resolve. “I’ll just keep to myself and the painting. That’s what I’m here for, right?”

“And your friend, right? Nat?”

You were. But even then, there was a small part of you that was deeply unsure of the why.

“Yeah,” you replied softly. “Bradley, too.”

She gently reminded you to have fun and to be safe before she had to go. The second you hung up your phone, you sighed, rubbing your eyes.

Pushing your towel off your shoulder and placing it on the rock beside you, you reached for the hem of your shirt, peeling it away from your body before doing the same with your leggings. You let your fallen pieces of clothing pile on the ground, and you closed your eyes, letting out a deep breath as you breathed in the clear air, finally allowing yourself to relax.

“Boyfriend trouble, Midge?”

Almost.

Gritting your teeth, you made to cover your body, your arms wrapping themselves tightly around your torso, your nails digging hard into your skin.

"Why the hell would you want to know, of all people?" you snapped at him, turning slowly on your heel. Standing before you, it took you a second to remember just how massive Jake was.

It had been a while since you’d been this close to him. His height and build, attributes that in another context might be admired, now served to remind you of the vulnerability you felt around him. You, with your smaller, short frame staring up at his face, were only reminded of that fact. The broadness of his shoulders, stretching the fabric of his button-up in a way that spoke of strength, with the way he always seemed to carry himself, made him see larger as if he was occupying more space than what was physically possible.

You stood there, trying to hold your ground, but the disparity in your sizes made you feel exposed, almost childlike. He's just a man, your aunt had reminded you.

Yeah, he is a man.

A man you hated with a burning passion. That was clear as day.

"Why are you here, Seresin?" you asked pointedly, ignoring the absence of a reply. He eyed you back. "Same as you. Bradley's going to purpose and wanted his best friend here."

You rolled your eyes. "No, what are doing fucking following me?"

"Fishing," Jake shrugs as if it's the most obvious thing in the world, spreading his arms out to prove a point, the rod and fishing line bouncing in his hand.

You raised your eyebrows at him. “Fishing? Really? Then please, be my guest. Poaching is a great way to get yourself kicked out of the park.”

Jake scowled at you. “You ever hear of catch and release, Midge?” he scoffed.

The laugh you let out was heartless. “Clearly, you know the concept all too well.”

You were dead set on escaping him, turning on your heel and marching towards the water without another word. Jake clearly thought the opposite, reaching forward to grasp at your elbow, pulling you back.

"Midge, stop! It's so like you to run off and ignore all your problems!"

Your turn towards Jake was sharp, a swift pivot that tore your arm from his grasp. Your eyes blazed with raw, unfiltered fury and resentment.

How dare he touch you!

"My problems!? What fucking problems would those be? I'm not the one purposely playing show and tell with my ego!"

Jake's face hardened. "My ego? You're the one making a scene every five minutes. You're the one that needs to calm down."

You glared at him, unwrapping your arms from around your chest to hang them at your sides, balling your hands into fists.

If he wanted calm, you'd show him the exact opposite.

"I'm not the one offering up cheap shots with every other breath. If you throw it at me, I'm going to throw that shit right back!"

Jake's eyes dropped to your exposed skin and the black bikini you had quickly changed into when you set up your tent. You saw it happen, and with each pass over your body, it felt like scrutiny, as if he was picking apart your every flaw, every scar, every wrinkle or flabby piece of skin. It was more ammo for more cheap shots later, no doubt.

Oh, so it's my fault then?" he sneered. "You're the one always ready to jump down my throat at the slightest provocation. Maybe if you weren't so defensive all the time, we could actually have a civil conversation and not ruin the fucking weekend for everybody."

You went to cover your body once again. "What do you fucking suggest then? Considering you cannot stand to call me out on something every two seconds?"

"Me?" he scoffed. "You're the one that seems to shutter in complete disgust every time I'm within breathing distance of you."

The retort was there, right on the tip of your tongue, ready to be unleashed on the world. That he said the same about you first, behind your back, no unless. It hung on your bated breath, waiting for the first word to be spoken, but something tethered you remain silent.

You couldn't admit that you knew, not know. You couldn't confront him about it either. He had proven here, and many times before, that the fault solely rested within you. And if you confronted it, that meant dredging up all the pain you meticulously buried under your disdain.

Admitting the real reason behind your spite, acknowledging the hurt he had caused, felt like giving him power over you, and that was the last thing you wanted.

You were going to back out before you said something you might regret.

"Okay, how about this? " You stated, holding your hands up in front of you, equal width apart. "This is you, and this is me. And this," you exaggerated, moving one of your hands into the center of the imaginary space you created, "is the boundary. We do not cross the boundary. We do not talk unless necessary, and we don't get into each other's way but to pass off the fucking compass to one another."

Jake scoffed. "You can't expect me to believe that is going to work?"

You dropped your hands to your hips. "Well, Mr. Smart Ass, have any other ideas that don't involve ruining Nat and Bradley's week?"

"I'm not that fucking heartless, Midge!" Jake retorted, his voice rising. "I'm not going to ruin it for them, but I won't tiptoe around you either. Whatever your problem is with me, it's yours to figure out on your own. Until then, put your selfish feelings and attitude aside and let them be happy!"

Something hit you square in the chest with his words. Your eyes began to sting, the sensation warning you of the impending overflow of unforgivable tears, and you tried to covertly blink them away. Everything was converging into a single, painful point in your chest, your mind now racing past every insecurity, every moment that had been magnified by Jake's previous words the night you met him - now being echoed yet again.

It was a raw exposure you hadn't anticipated, nor one you were prepared for.

"I'm not being selfish." You tried to hide the hurt from your voice. "But I guess that's a little too much to ask from someone like you."

Jake clenched his jaw. "Fine," he shouted, throwing up his hands. "You stay out of my way, and I'll stay out of yours!"

"Fine!"

You stomped off with a shaky breath towards the shoreline, trying to ignore the tremor in your hands or how your stomach was flipping inside out, falsely warning you of some unknown danger or threat. Jake stormed off at the same time as you, stones crunching under his boots, and you had to force yourself from turning back to watch him leave.

Instead, you stepped into the water, the cool temperature shocking your system, but you pushed on, stepping forward until your waist was level with the lake.

Wading deeper into the water, you try to cast him from your mind. The lake water enveloped you, the cold water soothing on your skin and joints. You tried to pay no mind to Jake as you heard him cast his line off down the shoreline, letting your hands glide along the water's surface instead. You watched how the ripples cascaded out, surrounding your hand, and you found the motion soothing.

You suddenly sprung forward, diving under before you kicked yourself up into a dead man’s float, trying to push every single intrusive thought from your mind. Slowly treading the water with your hands, you let the silence flood your ears.

It wasn't an impossible task. You could do this: ignore him for the entire week and get away without interacting with him unless absolutely necessary. You could stay back with Bob and Grace or Cora and Mickey while he did whatever with the rest of them. You would let Nat have her moment to celebrate with her friends when Bradley did decide to pop the question, and you would smile and hug and toast to whatever came of it.

In some ways, you already had been. Because if staying at the back of the pack, away from Jake and out of everyone's hair, was the one thing you could do to make this experience the happiest for her, for them, you would do it.

So it was at that moment you decided Jake fucking Seresin was not going to have any opportunities to drive that fucking wedge any deeper than it already was.

But if a bear did decide to show up, you knew just exactly who you were tripping first.

Tagging a few people from the tag list form! Let me know if you want to be tagged! Or if you're interested in being tagged in fics now or in the future, Click here.

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-Lucky/Wickett/Em

Part 2: Abracadabra - Coming soon!

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horseshoegirl · 4 months

Text

Set Me Alight - Part 3: You're So Vain

📜Back to our regularly scheduled broadcasting of these two in the present day, trying to 'not' kill each other. Maybe...

❗️+18, Strong Language, Enemies to Lovers, Original Female Character, Short OFC, Bradley Bradshaw x Natasha Trace, Verbal fights, bullying, camping, injury, pranks, and angry/snarky Midge.

#7.9k

Part 2 | Masterlist | Part 4

*Present Day*

"Rise and shine, sleepyheads!"

Metal banging. Metal fucking banging. That was the noise you heard outside your tent as you woke up, groaning and hiding your face into your tiny pillow.

Somebody was clanging the ever-livin' shit out of a metal pot outside your tent. You had a pretty good feeling who, and it only made you reach for the edges of your sleeping bag to pull it tighter over your head.

Grace in the tent next to you whined out, "Somebody, please turn it off!"

"It's fucking six in the morning, Jake!" Bradley called out hoarsely from somewhere across the campsite.

The banging stopped, followed by Jake calling out, "We have to get a move on if we want to get a good campsite for tonight!"

It wasn't even past lunch, past breakfast, and he was more worried about where he was going to sleep tonight.

It's a hiking trip, not navigating the fucking airport.

You moaned, rolling onto your back and calling out, "Who made you the alarm cock?" before faking a loud cough and following up with, "Oops, I mean clock."

There was a pause. Then, all of a sudden, you could hear the sound of leaves being crunched under a pair of boots approaching your tent. Within two seconds, the person grabbed the fabric at the top of your tent and started to pull. Your entire tent shook, and you screeched as the flimsy plastic bars holding it up appeared as if they would snap at any second.

Covering your eyes with your forearm, you shouted out, "Jake, stop it! You asshole! You're going to break my tent!"

He didn't. At least not right away. Jake pulled at least another five times before he decided to stop, laughing loudly and obnoxiously.

"You could always share with me! Come on, you don't think that would be fun? We could tell ghost stories and all the gossip. Maybe even share a sleeping bag and keep each other warm."

Clearly, he had already forgotten about the little fight and agreement, if you could call it such, yesterday.

"Over my fucking dead body," you deadpanned, throwing your arm back to the ground with a thump.

"It's too early for your guy's shit!"

That could have been Javy, you thought, but it also could have been Mickey. Either one could have been just as equally pissed off at waking up at any time before ten.

"Tell that to him," you called back. "I was asleep!"

Collective groans sounded off around the campsite, singling Jake had succeeded in waking everyone else up with his antics. You don't know whether to laugh or cry. If he wanted to start shit this early, there was no telling what else he was going to pull as the day went on. Because if this was anything to go by, Jake had no intentions of staying out of your

That didn't mean you would, though.

You weren't going to pull anything. At least, not until this trip was over.

There were some shuffling noises in the dirt before Jake finally called out to you from a distance, "Time to get up, Midge! We aren't going to wait for you!"

Maybe you could find Poison Ivy somewhere out in the bush and stuff it into his bag on the last day.

Sighing once, you stretched against the bed roll, deciding you probably should get up. You were hankering for a cup of coffee, and you knew without a doubt you'd need the caffeine to get through the day.

It took you a few minutes to get dressed and organize your sling bag so your paints and brushes would be within easy reach. To make up for the half day yesterday because Nat was about fairness, Jake would take charge of the compass for one more day. If he could manage to follow the instructions on the back of the map, ones you and Nat had laid out, you should be stopping at a cliffside for an incredible view of Mount Rainer at a distance for lunch.

Just as you stepped outside of your tent, you were greeted by the sound of footsteps approaching. You turned your head, spying Veronica making her way to the entrance of your tent.

“Ah, Morning, Midge.”

You want to either hide or hurl. Maybe even both.

Your interactions with her had been limited at best. She and Javy had only started dating two years ago, and even then, encounters with her were limited to larger social gatherings. You often suspected she preferred it that way. Between going to school and being a social media influencer, there was not a time when you saw her without her phone, capturing moments with Jessica or Javy, even Nat, only to turn them into content for her TikToks.

There was not a time when you didn’t see her with Jessica either. The two of them seemed inseparable, the dynamic so ingrained into your mind that it was difficult to separate the two. Wherever one went, the other was guaranteed close behind.

“Painting in the wild, I see?” she said, gesturing to her bag. “Never thought you’d get out of the studio.”

That was the thing about Veronica. She was as hot and cold towards you as they come. What you ever did to her, you will never know.

You huffed a laugh. “Surprised you even knew I have a studio.”

“I keep tabs on everyone,” she declared, bringing her hand up to flick at a bright pink manicured nail. With her hand still raised, she eyed you with a narrow stare. "Sold any of your paintings yet?"

You would never admit it aloud, but her comment hit a nerve. As it probably was meant to. It was common knowledge throughout the friend group you were trying to gain more recognition as an artist. While it was true you probably didn’t hit the ‘big wig’ level Veronica believed to be the pinnacle of success, you had indeed sold some of your paintings to a small but dedicated following. Playing the long game was better than producing something with no quality.

But it had been a few months with no success. Something Veronica, being who she was, would have latched on to without remorse.

Why she had decided to be a bitch to you this morning, you weren’t sure why.

“And what’s your point of asking me that? Cause I know for a fact it's not cause you care about what I paint.”

"I just thought I'd check in on your little hobby and see if it's going anywhere," Veronica said, her tone evidently laced with condescension. "But clearly, you're too sensitive to take a bit of friendly interest."

You laughed. Hard.

“Is this just your way of feeling important this morning? Because, honestly, you could try something new, like minding your own business for a change. I don't ask you why you don't have brands jumping into your DM's to collaborate with you."

Veronica’s face started to flush a bright shade of red, her shoulders stiffening. You watched it happen, not before your eyesight shifted to the group of people standing next to the firepit. Jessica was watching the two of you interact with wide eyes and a smug smile stretching across her face.

You knew right away why Veronica had approached you. Clearly, she woke up deciding to be that attack dog on the other side of a very, very tight leash.

You barely registered Veronica as she brushed past in a fury. Her elbow made a swift, seemingly accidental contact with the bend of your arm and your bag. In an instant, the bag’s flap came undone, and your paintbrushes, their case, and your tin case of watercolour paints clattered to the ground, scattering in all directions.

Your heart sank fast, a sense of panic twisting a knife in your stomach at the thought of any damage being wrought.

"Oops, how clumsy of me," Veronica said, her tone dripping with feigned innocence. She didn't stop or look back, continuing her path as if nothing had happened, already seeking out Jessica standing by the firepit with everyone else.

You knelt as you heard slight giggles in the distance as you reached for the first brush, wanting to inspect it for damages. Watercolour brushes were expensive, if not delicate. You wouldn’t have risked bringing them on such a journey if not for how easy it was to use watercolours for this type of thing. Not to mention eco-friendly.

Luckily, no damage had been done from what you could see on the one, and the tin case of paints had landed in a soft spot of mud. The tin had mud gracing its surface, but you knew the tiny pucks within wouldn’t have split with such a soft landing. The thought makes you sigh with relief.

"Here, Maeve, I'll help you out."

You looked up to see Bob kneeling down next to you, reaching for your paints. Despite the knot in your stomach, a soft smile graced your face, and you thanked him quietly, reaching for the farthest brush away from you.

"Don't let him get to you. Or Veronica. They are just being shit disturbers."

You scoffed, adding the brush to the pile Bob had created. "I didn't know we'd be encountering more than one ignoranus on this trip."

Bob paused for a second, raising his eyebrow thoughtfully before he let out a snort and reached for your brush case. "You know that's not actually in the dictionary."

"One can dream."

Bob shook his head, beginning the process of sliding each brush back into their individual slots.

“Can I help with anything?” Nat asked as she walked by with a smile on her face.

She did not see any of that, you realize. You shook your head, managing a tight grin as you titled your head towards Bob. “I think we have it covered. Thanks though. Could you maybe snag me a cup of coffee?”

Nat nodded, making her way over to the drip pot someone had brought. You watched her go, feeling a small sense of relief at the thought of a hot cup of coffee. It was a minor consolation but welcome, nonetheless. However, when Nat returned, her hands were empty, and her expression was apologetic.

“Jake packed it all away,” she said.

Of. Course .

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Your voice had risen more than you intended, causing Jake to glance over at you from his chair. You narrowed your eyes at him as Nat left you to join Bradley.

“So, I can’t even have a cup of coffee before we set off on the hike?” Your tone was sharp, your annoyance with the situation, with Jake, with the entire morning, everything.

“We need to hit the road, Midge. I didn’t think it would be a big deal.”

“A big deal?” You couldn’t believe his nonchalance. “Silly of me for expecting a bit of normalcy on this trip.”

"You can’t always get what you want, Midge," he shrugged from his chair, a grin on his face. "There's some hot water left, though."

Jake turned his head back in the direction of Ruben, who was standing over the grill covering the fire, stirring some oatmeal, and you couldn't help but hang your mouth open.

The sheer audacity of his remark makes you fall back on your heels, glaring at him. You're pretty sure you're breathing fire. And if they could, your eyes would be turning a pretty shade of bright ruby red, directed at him. You want to stand between his spread legs as he sits in that fold-up chair. You want to grab the hair at the back of his head and yank. Maybe even knee him in the groin when he wasn't looking and make him grunt with pain.

"Ah, you alright there, Midge?"

"Just dandy," you gruffed out to Bob, not taking your eyes off Jake as he slipped his coffee, the red 295 ml YETI rambler encompassed solely by the palm of his hand.

He probably just got it, along with all his other camping gear. It would totally be something only he would do, rich kid prick.

He looked like it, too. Lounging in that Green and brown Patagonia sweater that probably cost more than anything you owned. And his watch - vintage, clearly expensive, and limited edition. That one accessory on his wrist probably held more monetary value than any piece you'd ever or would create. It was infuriating how good he looked, how effortlessly everything seemed to come to him. Even you couldn't deny that frustrating fact.

So did Jessica, it would seem, waltzing over to where he was sitting with a certain gleam in her eyes, one that said she knew exactly what she was doing.

"Shit," you muttered under your breath, your fingers clumsily searching for your brushes without success. Your eyes, however, never strayed from Jake. Your hand closed around one, and you brought it towards your lap, fully intending to place it with the others. But watching them converse, you only gripped that single paintbrush tighter in your hand.

And Jake, damn him, just soaked it all up. He was basking in her attention like it was the most natural thing in the world. He lounged back in his seat, practically radiating confidence as he gleamed up at her, letting her stroke at his shoulder.

She had no shame ogling at him, even flirting with Jake when her boyfriend was literally right there, making her breakfast for her. The thin piece of wood of your painter's brush nearly snapped under the pressure of your tightening grip.

Bob placed his hand on your shoulder, lightly squeezing it once, then twice, bringing you out of your heated glare. You shook your head, eyes meeting Bob's friendly face. "I know it doesn't compare, but I have some tea in my bag instead. I can make you a cup?"

Your anger calmed under Bob's kindness, and you loosened your grip on the thin piece of wood, letting your thumb stroke absentmindedly over the spot where you had pressed into it. There was an indent from your nail, and you cursed to yourself.

These were brand new, too.

You nodded at him with a swallow. "That's kind of you, Bob. Only if you are making one for yourself."

He returned your nod with a smile, getting up to find his bag. You however, turned your gaze back to Jake, though less intense.

How you would get through the day, you had no idea.

Poison ivy, yes. In his underwear? Definitely.

----

Barely.

Just. Fucking. Barely.

That was your answer to your question. You're pretty sure your tongue has permanent bite marks scarred into it from how many times you resisted the overwhelming urge to call Jake out on his bullshit.

Why did you decide to be the bigger person? You honestly can't say why. But the urge was there in everything Jake did, whether it was opening his mouth or simply standing still.

It was the exact same as yesterday. You're at the back again with Cora and Grace. You attempt to add to the conversation where you can, but being the last person, your position puts you in the prime spot to people-watch.

It's difficult not to keep your eyes off Jake. He's drawing attention even when he's not doing anything noteworthy. It was even worse when every time Jessica or Veronica seemed to complement his skills flirtatiously, he flirted back. No doubt enjoying the attention and making it all about him.

Not to mention how he selectively listened to certain members of the group more than others. Like Bob, who pointed out the tracks of a deer in the mud along the trail. And how the deeper indent on one of the tracks indicated it sensed you guys were coming, for it to twist and take off into the bush.

Jake spoke over him, talking to Bradley about dinner, who was seemingly genuinely interested in what Bob had to say.

That one bothered you the most. Even when the group finally reached the outlook for lunch, it still played on your mind. So much so you had sat there for the better half of the lunch break, your sketchbook thrown across your lap and a brush in hand, staring up at the famous volcano, not once putting paint to the page.

Why did he always have to make everything about him?

And yet, you still had said nothing. Not then, and not even when you all packed up and left. Not one thing. You weren't going to do it.

So, what, exactly, was your tipping point?

When Jake suggested the entire group deviate off the trail and up the side of a small steep hill, though it looked more like a cliff face.

"No fuckin way."

Mickey grimaced. Bob stepped away from you. Cora and Grace huddled together, and Nat dropped her head only to wince, pinching the bridge of her nose in frustration. Bradley even held his arm out in front of Jake.

"Midge..."

"That's too steep for all of us with the stuff we are carrying!"

"We'll save an hour and a half going this way!"

"And risking everyone's safety for the sake of 'practicality' is just reckless. We're not all expert climbers, Seresin! One hour and a bit is nothing!"

You stepped forward, making a swipe for the map. Jake lifted it out of your way before you could grab it; however, the compass fell, and you reached down to collect it before he forgot about it.

In the midst of this, Veronica and Jessica watched from the sidelines. Jessica's face was alight with a mix of excitement at the unfolding drama and irritation that Jake's attention was so fixated on Midge.

"Guys, let's just think this through," Nat said, trying to mediate, while Bradley echoed, "There's no need to turn this into a bigger issue."

"Yes, Jake," you said pointedly. "There is no need to turn this into an issue when there was none in the first place." Your voice rose with each word, not quite angry but not civilized either.

"I'm not suggesting anything we can't handle, Midge."

"Really? Are you forgetting Mickey and Javy are carrying the food, which already weighs a shit ton? How are we going to manage to get it all the way up that?" you asked, gesturing to where they were standing, packs resting at their feet. "Or how Cora and Veronica are carrying their tents, on top of their own things? How can they climb something with that much weight on their backs?"

"Less time to be carrying everything, don't you think?"

"If you look at the map, the route we've planned out is smoother and easier on all of us. And predictable! We could lose our way by taking a different path."

Cora piped up from the back. "I agree with Maeve."

Grace nodded with her, as did Bob and Mickey. Bradley turned, placing his hand on Jake's shoulder. "Jake, I think we should listen..."

But Jake shrugged him off, stepping towards you.

"Midge, I've no doubt about your talent in leading a brush on canvas. But navigating in the wild? That's a whole different kind of art form, one you're clearly not as proficient at."

"Jake," Nat shouted. "That was very uncalled for!"

Something dropped in your stomach, and your eyes started to burn.

"Fine," you stated firmly. "You know what, I'm out. I. Am. Out."

Truly, you meant to gently toss the compass to him in the hopes he'd see it coming and reach out to catch it. You wanted to be rid of it and the conversation as quickly as you could. You were done. Done arguing, done caring and offering your opinion when it was dead-set clear Jake didn't care about it anyway.

But as you threw it, your anxiety took over. What should have been a simple toss turned into a frustrated, heavy-handed fling, like you were skipping a stone across a large lake. The compass flew faster, harder, and higher up than you intended, striking Jake squarely on the forehead.

Collective gasps shot around the group, yours included.

My bad doesn't even begin to cover it.

You don't know what's worse. The feeling of guilt settling in your stomach over it hitting his head, or for having felt that feeling of said guilt.

The silence throughout the group was just as bad, too.

"Enough!" Nat is the one to break it first, coming to stand between the two of you, her arms stretched out. Jake has a hand on his forehead, rubbing the skin through the back of his baseball cap. Your mouth is closed, and your nostrils are flaring hard with each rapid breath you take, purposely averting your eyes to stare at the ground.

"Given we have all this stuff we have to carry, we are sticking with Midge and I's original plan. We didn't spend all that time 'mathing' the hell out of those trails for nothing."

Not that you saw it, but Jake raised his eyebrows at Nat's words, his eyes then shooting to your body, taking in how you were looking at the ground.

"You and Midge planned the whole thing out?"

You lifted your head, squinting your eyes. "I know my way around more than just a paintbrush, Seresin."

"Midge..."

"Just save it, Jake," you snap, your voice on the verge of breaking. "You don't need to add to the damage that's already been done."

Without another word, you turn on your heel, holding yourself by your elbows across your chest as you go to hide behind Cora and Grace. Cora offered you a sad smile as you passed her, offering you her hand from behind her back as you came to a stop. She pulled you directly behind her so she might shield you from the looks of the rest of the group.

You didn't say a word to anyone else for the rest of the hike.

---

It was no lakeside or real private area, but the campfire Bob put up was a welcome companion. It's soft crackling, popping, and heat made you feel comfortable against the eerie feeling of being surrounded by the woods this late into the evening.

You were deeper into the park than yesterday, this campsite slightly bigger than yesterday. Despite Jake's instance that none of you would find a campsite for tonight, there are no other hikers around. It's simply just your group, so you have this place all to yourselves.

It doesn't feel like it. Out beyond the treeline, you are sure something is watching you. Stalking you. There are hidden shapes in the dark, moving and transforming with every searching look. Each rustle of the bushes or sweep of wind makes you hold yourself tighter, the concept that anything can happen in the woods was becoming real with each passing second.

Last night seemed to be okay. But now? You have no idea how you were going to manage to fall asleep tonight.

Nat and Bradley took off the second they got their tent up and ate dinner. You're not sure where, but you were positive it had something to do with getting some 'alone time.' Everyone else seemed to go off and do their own thing as well. You couldn't say you blamed them.

You wanted to escape, too.

You try to focus on the flames roaring out of the pit. Each orange twists as they reach towards the sky. Each colour changed as each flame tracked higher and higher. You think about how you would paint them, how each stroke would form the flame.

Until you aren't because the colour of the stone pit, the dull grey, reminds you of the compass. And everything from today comes rushing back in, accompanied by intense feelings of shame.

You had let your anger get the best of you. You knew that. You knew you shouldn't have thrown that compass directly at Jake's head. It wasn’t one of your prouder moments; the yelling and insults were as far as you’d ever want your dislike for Jake to go. Even after how he talked shit behind your back, he still didn’t deserve that happening to him.

You remembered the weight of the compass in your hand, the moment it left your fingers, and then the instant regret as it struck Jake. You closed your eyes, shaking your head.

It happened before it was too late.

So was the nature of these things with you, too. Even with your own family. A comment made here, voicing an opinion there. Then, the bitter feeling of wanting to be right and only to be right because that opinion should be recognized as fact.

And after every time, you always left regretting having ever opened your mouth in the first place.

Besides Cora and Grace, nobody seemed to want to talk to you either. Everyone avoided you, and you understood why.

Maybe you did deserve the silent treatment after all. The more you thought about it, the more it made sense, feeling the same feeling you fought to bury in the years after leaving school. You had been too much. Or not enough.

Maybe you were difficult to be around. Maybe it was you, not Jake. Maybe it was your presence that was the burden, more than you had ever realized. Maybe you had no right to feel hurt for what Jake said to that girl about you that night on Halloween.

You sniffed hard, wiping at your eyes.

Maybe I might be the problem after all.

Something covered in plastic landed directly on your lap with a dull thump.

"Tag, you're it."

Speak of the devil, he shall appear.

You looked down, the compass and the map carefully placed into a clear plastic bag. You didn't bother lifting your head, mocking a two-finger salute against your forehead as you set your eyes back on the flames.

"Thanks, Seresin."

It was wishful thinking on your part to think he'd leave you alone. You fully expected him to after you caught a glimpse of the small welt on his forehead while he was putting up his tent. The visual image made you wince.

Jake didn't move. Rather, he stood over you, staring down as if he was waiting for you to say something else. Looking for an apology, perhaps.

As fucking if. You weren’t going to offer jack shit, not when he thought of you as he did.

"Can I help you?" you huffed, purposely keeping your eyes off him. You knew full well he'd be pissed you weren't giving him your full attention. Maybe deep down, seeing the evidence of your outburst marring his forehead would have been too much for you.

Him seeing you crying would be but another victory he had over you, too.

"You know we have the waterfall on the list tomorrow, right?"

You scoffed, resisting the urge to roll your eyes. You didn't miss a beat when you causally threw out behind a tired smirk, "You plotting to push me off the ledge? Tell everyone I tripped and get rid of me for once and for all?"

"Temping, but no." Jake's response was quick. "I was thinking about us not getting lost. Don't be admiring the scenery too much to pay attention to the map."

Oh. This fucking asshole. No shit, that was for the compass.

"What? The treeline? The mountains? In a National Park? Or are you implying you're the thing I couldn't keep my eyes off?" you scoffed. "You wish, Seresin. I don't spend my time staring at assholes all day. I would rather admire the scenery that's actually worth it."

You could feel the tension radiating off him as he stood next to you. Probably clenching his fists, gritting his teeth. His jaw was clenched, and you could picture his jugular vein pulsing in his neck.

"Why? Admiring the view you're never going to paint?"

You bit your tongue.

Big. Fucking. Ouch.

But then the realization struck you. He was watching you at lunch today. Why?

"You seem quite invested in what I paint. Care to explain why? Or are cheap shots your new favourite thing? You seem to be doing a lot of that lately."

Jake remained silent, not bothering to answer what seemed like a very legitimate question.

He lets out a tuff of air, crossing his arms across his chest. You can feel the retort coming on the tip of his tongue, ready to lash out. It never comes. Instead, he swiftly turns the conversation back to the reason he approached you in the first place.

You almost wish he didn't. Almost.

"The waterfall, Midge. Bradley's thinking about using it as his chance to purpose."

You rolled your eyes. "You don't say? I wonder whoever gave him that idea, hmm?"

"I'm just saying, don't mess it up for them."

"I'm not going to be the one to mess it up," you argued. "I'm not the one that nearly got us killed today or the one that started shit first thing in the morning."

Jake huffed, his shoulders dropping hard. "You know what I mean."

"Do I? Do I really?" you call out sarcastically. "A man, whose every interaction I've had with him since I can remember, always ending up in a fight, is telling me I know what he means. I wonder how you got to that conclusion."

There is a pause.

"It didn't mean it like that."

"Mhm."

"Midge, I didn't mean it like that."

"It doesn't matter. You made your point, Jake. Don't mess it up. I got it."

The bitter sting of his words makes itself known in the quiver of your bottom lip. You shake your head once, finally allowing yourself to look up at him, attempting to pin him with a stare.

"If that's all, Seresin."

Your eyes land on the chair bag slung over his shoulder instead.

"Please tell me you're not thinking about sitting here," you blurt out.

What does the fucker do but suddenly light up and grin like it's the best idea in the world?

"It's a free country, Midge," he says, letting the chair fall from his shoulder.

"Yeah, no fucking thank you."

You went to stand, clutching the plastic bag to your thighs as your chair rocked slightly under the movement. Jake's voice, sharp and loud, made you stop.

"Come on now, Maeve. You're the one who didn't want to talk unless we were passing off the compass."

The use of your name, not Midge, makes you sit back down.

"Would it be the worst thing in the world to try and actually have a conversation with each other that doesn't have any insults being thrown around? Or objects?"

You grimaced.

Yes, is your immediate answer. Yes, it would be because it’s impossible.

You ignore the mention of the compass and the fact he's guilt-tripping you into staying because of it.

“Seriously? Civil is not even a word I would use to describe us. You bark, I bite.”

Jake dramatically pulled his chair apart, dropping it to the ground with the plastic legs clacking. Plopping himself down into the chair, he puts his feet up on the edge of the pit, crossing his legs at his ankles.

“Oh, so there is an us now? When did that happen?”

That five-second clip of that white cat yacking you’ve seen online comes to mind, and you are pretty sure whatever noise just came out of your mouth resembles that sound.

“Wow, nice one, Midge.”

You shot Jake a withering look. “If I had a dime for every time you’ve made me gag…”

Jake’s eyebrows shot high on his forehead. He licked his lips, bringing his bottom lip between his teeth only to bite down, the corners of his mouth turning up words.

You know right away what he’s thinking.

“Don’t…” you caution.

“Pun intended?” he huffs through a laugh.

You roll your eyes, turning your attention back to the firepit. “Why do men always think with their dicks.”

“Do you really want me to answer that?”

“Shut up, Seresin.”

There's a moment of silence between the two of you after that. The sky turned even darker, and the warm, bright light of the firepit seemed to span out to flood the entire campsite. The wood crackled, crickets chirped, and the wind gently rustled the leaves on the trees overhead. You had stopped crying a few minutes ago, more surprised Jake was letting this much time pass between the two of you without saying anything.

You'd dare say you found yourself content, even if he was sitting somewhat next to you.

But when Jake decides to try again, this time on easier ground.

"Bradley's nervous," he said aloud. "Keeps wondering if he picked the right moment to do it. All he does is stare at that damn ring and ask if it’s going to go okay."

You still said nothing. Jake presses on.

"I didn't mean that you were going to mess up tomorrow. I didn't mean what I said about you and a paintbrush, either. I just.. want it to be perfect for them. It needs to be perfect for them. Bradley's done a lot for me. He deserves this going the way he wants."

"You don't think I want the same for Nat?" You suddenly challenged. "She's my best friend. Practically one of my only friends. If I can help make her happy, then you'd be damn sure I'll be doing everything I can to ensure she is."

A ball forms in the back of your throat at the words you just said aloud, wondering why the hell you said that to him, of all people. You do your best to swallow it down, even if you feel like choking.

You clear your throat, digging your nails into the space between your collarbone through your vest. "Bradley, too."

Jake nods to himself. "I remember when he came bursting through our dorm room, raving on about how Nat finally said yes." He smiles to himself. "He couldn't stop grinning until the day of. And then, I think he has a certain smile reserved just for her."

Nat had told you the story. She had only been dating Bradley for about a month when she moved in with you. He had spied her at one of his football games, approaching her afterwards and flirting. Nat kept him guessing, not saying no but not saying yes either.

She wanted to be sure Bradley wanted her for the right reasons, not as a jersey bunny, waiting on the sidelines in case he might decide to 'tap it.'

Even after all these years, the same smile she wore every time she came home from a date or was in Bradley's presence never left her face. The thought of it makes the edges of your mouth turn upwards.

"She has one for Bradley, too," you offer hesitantly, more out loud to yourself. "It's soft like she doesn't realize she's doing it until a small patch of skin crinkles around her eyes."

"Bradley twitches his moustache. The god-awful thing."

You sputter a laugh. "I remember the day he started growing it. What was he thinking?"

"That he wanted to star in a 70s cop show?" Jake remarked, a playful smirk on his face.

You chuckled. "Or a very ambitious caterpillar found a new home and hasn't left for the past two years."

Jake snorted. "I think he lost a bet with someone."

"It's a cry for help."

Jake nodded in agreement before he cocked his eyebrow at you, mischief in his eyes. "You hold him down; I'll shave it off?"

A squeak of laughter escaped through your closed mouth, your body jolting. There was a small smile too, despite your best efforts to hold your reaction back. But you couldn’t help it. Soon, with your eyes slammed shut and dimples forming on your face, your body rocked back and forth with open laughter.

You glanced once, then twice back at Jake, who was fighting his own reaction. He couldn’t resist the pull of it, letting his own laughter join yours. It made you laugh harder. Because it was a sound, you had never heard from him. It was hearty, deep, and it was genuine. Not laced in disdain or condensation.

You laughed harder because Jake Seresin was laughing with you. Not at you. And for the fact, there's a kinder warmth instead of a fire spreading across your chest.

As the laughter subsided, you both paused, a little surprised by the ease of the moment. Caught off guard, your eyes locked on to Jake’s, a soft gaze forming on his face. The one side of your mouth crooked upwards into a one-sided grin.

Maybe I shouldn’t have judged him so harshly for something he said in his youth? Maybe I have a part to play in this game of ours, too? Maybe he’s not as bad as I thought after all?

It didn't last long. Your smile was the one to fade first into a look of discomfort as you saw Jessica and Veronica approach the campfire. Jessica’s smile was wide, but her eyes didn't quite match the warmth of her expression, and like always, Veronica followed a step behind.

A chill shot up your spine, and you hugged yourself tighter, watching Jake look up at the pair with an adoring smile. It is only then you realize the shame you once felt before Jake arrived has returned with full force.

Ah, hello, you fine-flicked bastard.

"Having fun, are we?" Jessica chirped, her gaze flicking between Jake and Midge. "It seems you two have 'made up.'"

You had a pretty good idea of where this was going.

"I never took you for the outdoorsy type, Midge," she offered behind a sadistic grin.

You narrowed your eyes, a knowing smirk on your face.

Karma can be a bitch, and so can I.

“We can’t all be experts in social climbing, Jessica. But then again, I guess it’s hard to pay attention to anyone’s hobbies when you’re only around for the photo ops and the popularity points. The outdoors doesn’t really offer the kind of attention you’re usually after, does it?”

Her smile faltered, winding back into a tight grin. The whites of her knuckles shun as she balled her hand into a fist at her side. It took her a second, but she regained her composure, tossing her hair back and sporting a new sly smile.

“Some of us don’t have the luxury of dabbling in things like painting. Unlike some people, I have to adapt. It’s about being relevant and knowing how to appeal to a crowd.” She leaned forward slightly in your direction, voice dripping with faux concern. “Not everyone can seem to grasp that concept.”

Veronica smiled, narrowing her eyes at you.

“Oh, you mean how you jump on every trend?” You unwrap your arm from around your stomach, placing your elbow on the armrest and letting your chin rest on the back of your fingers. “I’ve seen your posts. Tell me something, honestly, do you ever stick with one long enough actually to see it through?”

You raised your eyebrows, expecting her to answer. Her face, even in this light, seemed to blend with the glow of the fire. To your surprise, Jake was even holding back a chuckle.

You can see the imaginary foot stomp she wanted to give from her facial expression alone.

“I can’t believe you’d say that, Midge. It’s like you’re always waiting to criticize me and everyone.”

You chuckle softly at the childish display. "If you're going to dish it out, be prepared to get it back. At least Jake understands that fact."

Jessica ignored you, stepping closer to Jake. "Why is she always like this? At least you know how to handle Midge's... let's say, 'artistic temperament.'"

"It's a nice game we have going."

Veronica quickly joined in, "Yeah, not everyone can keep up with her. But you've got a way of handling things. And her."

Oh, I'm going to be sick.

You tried to tune them out, dropping your chin to your chest. The red marker lines you made on the map through the bag seemed more interesting than listening to whatever bullshit those three were spurting.

You should get up. Leave. You didn’t want nor need to hear this. Hear them flirt yet again and fawn over Jake. You didn’t want to hear him reply in kind, either.

That was until Jake’s shout suddenly punched the air.

“Bear!”

Shrieking, you shot out of your chair, trying to turn around to spot the animal. But the action must have been too fast as the chair, never designed for such sudden shifts, as it wobbled, buckled and finally collapsed beneath you. And down you went with a sickenly loud and heavy thud.

"Oh, bless her heart, she fell for that," Veronica snickered through her laughter.

It takes you a second to realize you are on the ground. All you can think about, all you can feel, is the pain shooting up your arm from the base of your wrist. You want to curl into yourself against the dirt and cradle your injured hand to your chest. You want to make yourself as small as possible and blindly hope even if you knew they did, they didn't see you fall.

You just wanted them to leave you alone.

They wouldn't. Not for the right reasons. Even though there is buzzing in your ears, you can hear Jessica's and Veronica's laughter stretch out to the boundaries of the camp. Who wouldn't? Even the crickets and the subtle chirps of birds are no longer letting themselves be heard, probably scared off by the noises they are making.

Between the two of them and Jake, they probably plotted to scare the shit out of you anyway.

The thought alone urges you to stand, tears unknowingly trailing down your cheeks as you hoist yourself up against the stones of the firepit. Jake was closer to you than he was before, hands swaying slightly like he was fighting the urge to help you.

You felt a wave of nausea as you gingerly tested your wrist, a sharp jolt of pain shooting up your arm with even the smallest movement. You couldn't even move it beyond the slight, bitter flex of your hand.

"Midge, I'm..."

Jake never got to finish his sentence. Jessica's sickly, sweet voice interrupted him. It was anything but - each word oozing out like molasses, but with a sharp, nasal edge that made the same damn shiver go up your spine as before.

“Bless your heart, Midge. You really ought to be more careful. Anything can happen in the woods.”

Veronica nodded in agreement, quickly adding, "If I had that much riding on my hand to make a living for myself, I wouldn't be going anywhere. Especially if your art is as delicate as your balance."

You felt blindsided, wrapping your good arm around your waist as if to shield yourself. More tears bit at the corners of your eyes as the spite of their words hit you, no courageous or witty retort coming to save you. You fought with yourself to make sure they didn't fall. It was a battle you lost almost instantly.

They had no idea what it was truly like. Nor would they. Standing behind Jake on either side, their faces shadowed by the light of the fire. The sight was menacing, and you couldn't help but feel like one of those small cartoon mice trapped in the corner of the room, a cat waiting to pounce on its prey.

You couldn't let them, let him, see you like this.

Suddenly, Jake was reaching for you, for your injured wrist. You shied from him, fighting tears as you pulled your arm to your chest. Fighting tears, you willed your shaky legs to carry you away from the campsite. You were deaf to the shouts of your annoying nickname from Jake's lips and deaf to the words of Jessica and Veronica telling him to give it up and let you go.

Nothing you could have said or could have come up with for some smart-ass quip would have made a difference anyway.

"Maeve, wait!"

Through the blood rushing in your ears, you manage to hear Nat's voice. The sound makes you stop in your tracks, though you don't turn to face her. She's running to you from wherever she had been with Bradley, feet heavy on the dirt behind you. She reaches for the back of your arm, pulling herself around and in front of you.

You didn't look up from the ground, but you did throw your injured wrist behind your back, trying to hide the wince at the snap of pain shooting up your arm.

As she took in your face, wiping a smudge of dirt from your cheek, you could hear Bradley's voice from a distance snapping at Jake.

"What the hell, man! You were supposed to talk to her, not..."

"Are you okay?"

Nat's voice cuts off Bradley's, and you lift your eyes to meet hers.

You finally nodded, trying to keep the pain from your voice. "I'm okay. I'm just a little shaken he'd do something like that."

How much she saw, you didn't know. Nor would you let on, like this morning. The last thing you wanted was something else ruining this trip for her. You didn't want to elaborate either. You just wanted to be alone.

Nat took her teeth between her bottom lip, registering the tears on your face and your shaky breath. "Do you want me to tell him off? Cause I'll do it. I'll throw his ass straight into the firepit."

You shook your head, mumbling under your breath, "I'm just going to turn in for the night."

Her eyes tracked your body anxiously. She wanted to press you further, but she didn't know if she really could. You were already on the run from the others when she approached you, and you didn't even laugh when she mentioned Jake, literally on fire.

That would have made you light up in an instant.

"If that's what you want to do. Just... Just get me or Bradley if you need anything, okay? We're here for you."

You nodded quickly, biting down on the edges of your tongue. Nat's eyes lit up in concern before she mouthed an 'okay' and squeezed your shoulder once before letting you go. You didn't say anything else as you turned on your heel and practically ran from her and everyone else, hoping they would leave you be for the rest of the night.

The second you reached your tent, you dove head-first into the small space, desperately trying to hold in the sob crawling its way up the back of your throat. Reaching for the zipper with your good hand, you pressed your wrist to your chest, the slight contact making you hiss sharply. Your entire arm seemed to shake as you managed to pull the tab down to the ground, and you were surprised the teeth managed to connect with the zipper on each wobbly tug.

The second the tent plunged into darkness, you rocked back, landing hard on your butt and finally allowed those tears and haunting cries to escape.

The first one was muffled, the sound just passing through your clenched teeth and closed mouth. You were trying to stifle the surge of anger and helplessness you felt, unable to do anything but hope there wouldn't be any lasting damage from his little 'joke.'

Holding your hand out, you gripped your pulsing wrist with the other, pressing your forehead into your sleeve. Rocking with the waves of pain, your hand was permanently locked into a claw, trying to flex under the surmounting pain and tendons straining under the throbbing ache.

How dare he?! How dare he pull something like that when he knew there was a chance something could have happened to you? He knows damn well how much your career as a paint rode on your wrist, your entire hand?!

A million thoughts surfaced, fighting against one another in your head.

Years of studying, refining your natural talent as your teachers told you, could be gone just like that. All because Jake couldn't help himself. He just had to rile you up. To piss you off. Because any attempt for him to play nice and to come with the other shoulder being dropped.

He would never listen to you. He would never 'like' you. He made that abundantly clear. And suddenly, you felt stupid for thinking a mere few minutes ago that there was a small sliver of hope Jake was capable of change.

Why you even thought he could, even for a second, you'd never know.

There was a slight rustle of leaves outside, and you lifted your head, biting your lip, a slight jolt of anxiousness and fear running through you. It could have been anything outside your tent: an animal, the wind, another person. But as quickly as you heard it, it was gone, and the following silence stretched on, making you believe whatever you had heard was a trick on your ears.

You turned toward your backpack, single-handedly searching for the tiny first aid box inside. In the darkness of your tent, your fingers finally wrapped around its edges, and you pulled it free from being buried under the rest of your things. Another cry rolled its way up your throat as you pinned the lid with your elbow against the ground, working to free the clasps on the box.

The lid popped free, and you dove for the tensor bandage wedged up in the corner, flicking the metal holders loose and bringing the stretchy material up to your mouth. Setting your teeth into the end of the bandage, you spun it out, then took the end that was in your mouth and wrapped it around the bend of your thumb.

You had seen your brother do it enough times, either to yourself or other people. The Doctor in the family who always seemed eager to showcase his talents, the steps seemed to be permanently etched into your mind without your permission. Bunch it here, pull there, and remember to watch the tendon around your thumb.

You'd no sooner seek out Cora or Mickey to help you out, but you doubted anyone would want to put up with your sorry excuse of an ass after today. Or risk the chance of something else happening.

Besides, even you can't fuck this up, your brother would say each time you hurt yourself as a kid, looking down at you and pulling the bandage with a cocky smile.

He would have done it better. He would have done it right. Nobody would have questioned him about it, either.

But your brother faded from your mind as you painstakingly wrapped your hand, hot tears streaming down your face. Each shout at each twitch and stab of pain only seemed to break down your resolve.

Because the one thought going through your mind was clear as day...

Boundary be gone, Seresin. I'm not holding back any longer.

This. Meant. War.

Are we out of the woods yet? 👀

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Part 4 - One Way or Another - coming soon!

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