“What? Now you're ready to talk?” I didn't even try to keep composure. “I've heard enough.” 

“Please, don't.” He caught my wrist desperately. Ignoring the curious stares watching us from a distance. “Please don't go.” 

His voice crackled. I looked at him at last. His eyelids turned into dark rings. His eyes glassy. Mouth slightly open, like the words weren’t coming fast enough to save him. It was the face of a man about to lose everything. 

For a second, I felt something old and raw twist in my gut. But I shook him off.

“Don't touch me. I'm not some plan B you can pull out when everything else goes to hell.”

“You're not. You never were.” He was almost crying. 

“And you're doing it again.” I crossed my arms, furious. “Saying whatever you think the other side wants to hear. You're a great performer.”

“It's not like that…”

“No? First you're apologising, almost begging for a kiss. And now what? Pretending we never happened - again! Playing house with her. Are we both toys to you?”

He didn't answer. Shame painted all over his face. I nodded, lips tightening into a cold grimace, and turned for the truck - but in a flash, he stepped in front of me.

“Don’t.”

“Move, Jack.”

“No.”

I tried to sidestep. He blocked me again. My grip on the keys tightened.

“We're done, man.”

“Give me the keys.”

“Like hell I will…”

He lunged. Not violent, but determined. His hand closed over mine, and for a second, we were locked there - breathing hard, chest to chest, keys clenched between us. Then, with one sharp tug, he yanked them free. 

“Get in the car.” He said, calm but firm. 

I stood there still, shocked he really did it. He cornered me like a child. 

“Get inside.” He repeated more violently, each word like a command. “Now.”

I hadn’t seen him like this in years. Maybe ever. He was always the passive one. The maybe-guy. The one who took what came. Now he was a wall.

His tone caught me off guard. In different circumstances, I might’ve found it thrilling. Now I was just taken aback.

“I'm not going to repeat myself.” He marched past me, slid into the driver’s seat, and shut the door.

I glanced back toward the firepit. The others were still watching us - openly now. Kevin looked baffled. Patrick worried. Only Jared seemed satisfied. As if Jack's reaction was exactly what he’d hoped for.

“Fine,” I replied, dry as sand. “Just don't make me regret it.”

I slammed the door shut and leaned my head against the window. My elbow anchored on the doorframe. Waiting.

The engine started. Gravel cracked beneath the tires. We left the campsite, silence buzzing between us. 

I observed the scenery outside. The forest slid past the windows, painted in mist and early sun. Trees covered in rusty tint were spelling fall’s arrival.

 

Jack navigated towards the main road. His neck stiff, lips shut tight, hands clenched on the steering wheel. The air inside was oppressively still - thick with words none of us dared to say. Every few seconds, I could see him stealing glances at me out of the corner of his eye - quick and cautious, like I might vanish if he looked too long.

I kept staring out the passenger window, fists balled in my lap, jaw grinding. Tapped my knee once, twice. Still no words. Only the sound of the wind crawling through the cracked window, the engine, the quiet tension of breath held too long.

A hawk sliced across the sky. The road narrowed. I noticed we were heading out of Tetons and in the direction of the Wyoming-Idaho border. What the hell was he thinking? Was he playing for time?

“Do you even know where you're going?” I snapped, unable to hold it any longer. 

“I do. Kind of.” He blushed a little, avoiding my gaze. “I hope I remember the road.” 

“Idaho?”

“Yep.”

I inhaled deeply, a flicker of understanding tightening my chest.

 

“Do I know it?”

“Better than anyone.”

His words cracked open something I hadn’t touched in years. Long summer days by the Bear Lake. Kayaking, ice-cream, singing songs by the fire. Sneaking out under the stars to swim until our skin wrinkled and our secrets felt safe. Recalling these innocent moments filled me with warmth I didn't think I was able to feel ever again. 

“Bear Lake.” I said under my breath. 

“Yeah…” He nodded. “I couldn't sleep tonight after we…” 

He tightened the grip around the wheel. As I'd thought - those things were much harder to face sober.

 

“Kissed?” I helped him finish.

He nodded, still unable to say it out loud. 

“I was thinking about our teenage days. About those summer camps. How we'd do everything to be in the same group each year.” He let out a shift laugh. “Remember?”

“Hard to forget.” 

I smiled under my nose, recalling that well-tanned youngster with the sun-burnt fringe falling all over his big hazel eyes. 

Maybe it was during those humid days under the Idaho sky, when my heart first melted for the sight of his. I had fallen for him before I even had the words to name it.

“I wanted to ask you to take me here,” Jack said, “before everything with Jared...”

“He saw us,” I cut in. “At the truck. He knows.”

Jack exhaled hard, like it was a blow.

“You two talked?”

“He’s pissed. Rightfully.”

“I have to tell her,” he muttered. “I know I do.”

“Then you’d better do it fast,” I said, turning my gaze back to the road. “If you want to outrun him.”

Jack nodded at my last words. The road narrowed again, tracing the edge of a dry ravine. A sign for Montpelier flashed past us. Not far now.

“I’ve never told her the truth,” he said, voice almost swallowed by the engine. “I made her think I was confused. That I grew out of it.”

I said nothing. It wasn’t my job to help him feel better about it.

“But it wasn’t confusion,” he went on. “It was you.”

That one landed. I turned my face away, not sure if I wanted to hear more.

“I think we're almost there.” 

This time, it was me who decided to run away. Ironic.