"WHAT THE HELL, Sydney," I seethe, wishing I had something to whack him over the head with. He evidently needs to have some sense knocked into him. "Why are you here? How did you—wait, did you microchip the dog?"
"This looks bad, I know," Sydney says, rubbing the back of his neck as he leans against the driver's side door of his Prius. "But I can explain, okay? I was worried that Morgan would go all Chris McCandless and never come back from his hike. He's from England. They don't have mountains or bears or the right to bear arms in that country, and he can seriously piss people off with that accent of his. But most importantly, practice starts next week, and we need our goalkeeper. We couldn't sit back and let him go alone."
"I doubt the English football player has read Into the Wild," I retort, conscious of Morgan's presence. He's just lifted himself out of the passenger seat with the rugged grace of a fighter pilot.
"Underestimating me is a sport for you, isn't it, St. Clair?" Morgan's accent infiltrates our conversation with all its usual cheekiness.
I grit my teeth. I haven't spoken to Morgan since June, but I'm already over his shit. "You shouldn't be here."
Morgan walks around the rear of the car to stand beside Sydney and holds my gaze for a beat before a mischievous grin slowly spreads across his face. He's looking at me like he knows something I don't. "What exactly did Park say–"
"Like I said, we've got practice every day next week," Sydney interrupts, shooting Morgan a pointed look. "So it was today or not at all."
"Then it should've been not at all. Or you could've gone literally anywhere else in this state. It's fucking massive." I feel like a vintage cartoon character with steam shooting from my ears.
I'd told Sydney about our plans, but I didn't ask him to keep them a secret from Morgan because I didn't care if he knew. While I could understand why Parker had wanted to safeguard his feelings, I wasn't compelled to live under a veil of secrecy. At least until this very moment when that sentiment has come back to bite me in the ass. There's no way I'm going to immediately let Sydney off the hook for this, and I'm going to tell him as much.
The sound of a window rolling down seizes my attention, and I look back to find Tatum Wolff mid-yawn in the backseat of Sydney's Prius.
I bite down on the inside of my cheek to prevent some kind of startled squeak from escaping me.
We couldn't sit back and let him go alone.
I can't believe I didn't register Sydney's words from moments ago. And because of course Tatum's here. It only makes sense that he's accompanied his two roommates into Olympic National Park on this fine September morning.
Still biting my inner cheek, I dare to give Tatum a once over. His mussed hair gives the impression that he's just rolled out of bed, and he's donning his usual dark-framed glasses. It's a good look. One I wish that I wish I didn't know existed because my mind will surely exploit and recycle it for unsolicited daydreams.
Morgan chuckles. "Enjoy your nap, sunshine?"
"This wasn't part of the plan," Tatum states, sounding over all of our shit. He appears to be staging an act of defiance by remaining inside the car, but it wouldn't kill him to acknowledge me. Not when I'm standing right fucking here.
Irritated, I turn around to address the high pitched whines coming from inside Parker's Prius. Bear sees Sydney and wants to get out (much like me from this situation). Grateful for the distraction, I retrieve a dog treat from the ziplock bag I keep inside my raincoat and stick it through the open window. Bear scarfs it down in under a second.
"God forbid I wanted an actual toilet to piss in, mate," Morgan laments.
Tatum mutters a few words in German, and it's not hard to pick out the curse words. Maybe it's just the nature of the language, but every syllable seems clipped and intense.
"Wait, so why are you here?" Sydney asks, appearing beside me and reaching into the car to rub Bear's head. "And where's my short blonde friend? Don't tell me she's joining arms with the elk-hunting brigade."
I wipe the trace amount of dog slobber on my leggings, leaving a shiny residue. Lovely. "Parker's Prius is defecting. She's in the trading post buying oil...hopefully."
"Is she okay?" Morgan asks, abandoning the cheek he'd shown Tatum.
I swivel to face him, crossing my arms in front of me. "Yes. Barring the car issues, she's perfectly okay. She's great, actually."
Sydney elbows me in the side. "At least it's clear now that I drive the superior Prius. Mine would've never chosen to defect in the wilderness."
I glower. "It's a little too soon for jokes." Especially because I'm beginning to worry that two nearly identical cars parked next to each other will attract the elk hunters' attention.
"Running into you guys wasn't the plan, I swear," Sydney says, noticeably lowering his voice."And it technically wasn't even our idea to come."
Just as I open my mouth to demand clarification, I clock Morgan in my peripheral —he's lifting his hand in an exaggerated wave. I don't need to turn around to know that Parker is back, but I do anyway and almost feel bad for Morgan. She's standing in the space between the two cars, her hazel eyes drilling into Morgan. She looks borderline mutinous, though I suspect that her time spent inside the trading post wasn't a glamorous wilderness retreat.
"There better be one hell of an explanation for this," she says in a cool, measured voice that ought to have Morgan begging Sydney to drive him back to Seattle.
But all it takes is one look at the Englishman to know that an imminent departure is not in the cards. In fact, he's sporting a proud little smirk, like he's passed some sort of test.
However, before any mayhem can ensue, the backdoor of Sydney's Prius opens and Tatum hauls himself out. He's wearing a navy t-shirt and dark joggers that I recognise from the night I'd returned Morgan's vintage crap to 3B.
"The car needs more oil, yes?" Tatum's looking at Parker—or rather, the orange bottle in her hand that I'm only now noticing. I'm also noticing, against my will, that between the marble sky and the deep shadows of the looming pine trees, his eyes look more grey than blue. Like storm clouds.
"If the manual's to be believed." Parker practically shoves the bottle into Tatum's hands. "Please tell me this will do the trick."
Tatum inspects the label for a prolonged moment, a subtle wrinkle forming between his eyes. "Yeah, I reckon it will."
"Do you know how to fix it?"
Parker's question catches me off guard because she only ever asks for help under extraordinary circumes. She's Miss Self-Sufficient. But considering our current state of affairs...yeah, her Prius having maintenance issues in the Olympic National Forest probably classifies as extraordinary circumes.
Tatum nods. "I've done something similar before. It's a quick fix."
Morgan drapes a brawny arm over Tatum's shoulders. "Wolff's always so modest. His beloved Opa has a vintage car collection out on Bainbridge. He's been messing with engines as long as he's been playing football."
An unsolicited vision of baby-faced Tatum tooling around in an Aston Martin DB5, à la Daniel Craig's James Bond, invades my mind. I bet he had white blond hair as a child. I bet he now drives those vintage cars out on Bainbridge. I bet—no. I don't have time for this right now.
I flick my gaze from Tatum to Parker, who completely ignores Morgan and keeps her attention on Tatum. "Good." She exhales sharply. "That's good hear."
"I also found this Youtube video," I pipe up in a voice that doesn't quite sound like mine. "It's of some guy—a mechanic—fixing what needs fixing on Parker's exact car."
Sydney grins. "Fixing what needs fixing?"
"Don't test me." Now I recognise my voice.
"Send it my way," Tatum says, looking at me for the very first time as he shoves off Morgan's arm. The storm clouds in his eyes seem to clear, as if responding to a change in the light. "There's no harm in getting help from..." He lifts an eyebrow.
Oh, fuck. He wants me to say the name of the guy. Unfortunately there's no way out of this but through.
"Zookeeper Zander," I speak the YouTube handle like a confession.
Morgan and Sydney wheeze simultaneously while Parker affectionately rolls her eyes. And while their reactions may merit a response, I'm far too intrigued by the way Tatum smiles.
"Of course," Tatum says, nodding. "A highly respected mechanic, that man."
"Really?"
"No, but I'll see what he has to say anyway."
I scoff and silently curse my gullibleness as I send him the link to the video. The last thread of texts we'd enhanced was from June and concerned falling off his roof. Great, now he'll get a fresh reminder of that.
A tentative peace settles between the five of us as various plans go into motion. Morgan heads to the restroom, while Sydney, Tatum, and Parker stand over the popped hood of her car. They exchange technical terminology and consult the manual that Parker gave to Tatum.
Then there's me, doing the very important work of controlling Bear, who enthusiastically greets the two boys. I imagine the bossy little yip he gives Sydney as he puts his front paws up on him translates to something like 'Hey, I didn't know you'd be here!' which I completely resonate with.
As I lead Bear away, eager to take some space, I catch myself wondering what the fuck the plural of Prius is. Priuses? Prii? And is the latter pronounced pre-eye? I make a mental note to investigate whenever I regain access to high-speed cellular data.
Only a few minutes have passed when Parker joins me at the treeline, where Bear noses through a patch of purple wildflowers. "Sorry about all of this," she sighs out.
"Oh my God, what?" I shake my head in disbelief. "Don't be sorry. None of this is your fault." I don't bother specifying the various things that are out of her control.
"Yeah. Yeah, I know." Parker smiles thinly but I sense that she's not at ease. How can she be when Morgan is here?
Deciding to put off asking her about Morgan, I jerk my head towards her Prius. "You figure it's fine to leave them unsupervised?"
"Don't worry, I can keep an eye on them from here just fine. Besides, Tatum genuinely looks like he knows what he's doing, and Sydney is an Engineering major so that probably counts for something."
I steal a glance over at them. Sydney now holds the manual while Tatum is bent over the engine. I don't know what exactly he's doing, but he looks criminally good doing it. His hands look so...capable.
I nudge Parker. "Do you think boys know how handsome they look when they fix things?"
Parker's grin is nothing short of coy. "I think Tatum might. Or maybe he's incentivised to look handsome because he knows you're staring."
My cheeks sting. "Jesus Christ, could you speak any louder?"
Her grin remains intact. "It almost makes up for them being obnoxious about knowing how to fix the car things. Almost."
I consider pointing out that Tatum has yet to be obnoxious, but something else usurps my attention. Aside from her initial reaction, Parker seems relatively unfazed by the boys' arrival. Then there's the comment that Morgan started to make before Sydney abruptly cut him off.
"Park," I begin gently because I'm not upset—I'm really not. If given half the chance, I would've done the same thing with Ryley. "Did Morgan know about today?"
Parker's gaze drops to her On Cloud trainers, and her shoulders drop as she exhales a long, quiet sigh. Resignation dominates her features. "He did."
I set a hand on her arm. "Is there a reason why—"
"Yoo-hoo, Jensen!" Sydney calls out. He's still standing beside Tatum. "It's a good thing this isn't the apocalypse because you're not contributing to the group."
I scoff and tilt my head to one side as I fold my arms across my chest. "Come again?"
"You're not contributing to the group. So step it up."
I openly gawk at Sydney. He's screwing with me—I know that—but he's failing to pick up on all of my signals that I'm in the mood for his usual antics. And I'm not inclined to offer comic relief—especially not at my expense.
"Well first, let's clarify the fact that we're not a group," I state, lifting one finger on my free hand, and promptly add another. "Second, this is our corgi that I'm supervising. And third, you can kindly fuck off. We can't all be randomly good at car related things like Tatum."
At the sound of his name, Tatum looks up, looks at me. He's still bent over the Prius, his hands doing god only knows what with car parts that I can't identify.
A barely-there smile tugs at his lips. "I'm sure you could stand to learn a trick or two from Zookeeper Zander."
"Or you, so it seems," I dare to suggest.
He stands upright. "Mm, yeah that would be a better use of your time. I've got better tricks."
"Oh, I'm sure you do."
"So that settles it," Parker smoothly interjects, her hands on her hips. "Jensen is contributing to the group, Tatum has tricks, and Sydney is an instigator. Now, not to sound ungrateful, but can we please just get back to letting Tatum fix my car?"
"It's done, actually," Tatum replies, a hint of pride in his voice as he uses a wet nap to clean grime off his hands. Sydney always keeps some in her centre console. "You're good to go, I swear."
"Ohmygodthankyou!" Parker replies in a rush, and hugs Tatum like he's the surgeon who's informed her that her loved one will fully recover.
Tatum is actually smiling now, and turns it on me as he returns Parker's hug. It's jarring and wonderful and it fucking gets to me. But not in the underneath my skin sort of way. Instead, there's this subtle yet impossible to ignore fluttering sensation in my stomach that nauseates me. Nothing good has ever come from butterflies.
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Because OF COURSE Tatum is also here! who's shocked? Certainly not me hehe
PNW vibes and hiking nonsense will continue next chapter. As always, please feel free to leave votes, comments, emojis xx