Page 72 of Forest Proximity
“The meeting, for starters. Would you agree that things are getting sort of insane?”
A laugh escapes. “Yes.” I choose my words carefully. “It’s unusual that town officials have gotten involved, but there’s a lot of money at stake, and the town is invested.”
There’s shuffling on Stevie’s end, and I wonder what she’s doing. Is she lying in bed? Sitting on her yellow couch? I want her here.
“This was only supposed to be a dumb bet with my friends.” She yawns. “I wanted to make a little money doing sasquatch tours and selling T-shirts. Now you’re on this boneheaded committee, I’m going on dates with strange men”—she growls again—“and we have to hide.” She sighs after her rant.
“So, it’s Ike’s fault for getting the town involved.” I like the guy, and he’s a good friend of Stevie’s, so there’s no malice behind my words.
“Actually, everything started to go haywire when Marlow became the town bookie.”
I chuckle. “Yes. Everything is Marlow’s and Ike’s fault. We need a committee for that.”
“I’ll make T-shirts. They’ll say ‘Everything is Ike and Marlow’s fault’ in huge block letters. I can get a bulk discount, I bet.”
I laugh again. I’m entering the phase of exhaustion where everything is hilarious. Stevie might be getting there, too, because we’re both laughing.
Our laughter winds down, and she sighs. “Adam?”
“Yeah?”
“Is it too much?” she asks timidly. “Are you having second thoughts about us now that I’ve pulled you into the crazy?”
She’s giving me an opportunity to exit graciously. This is diplomatic of her, so I consider the question seriously. Is this all too much—the committee meetings, the secrecy, and being dragged into civilization against my will?
I’m outside of my comfort zone, but maybe that’s not a bad thing. I’m growing. This might even be an adventure. Either way, the needle on my inner compass won’t point to anything but her. I can’t seem to help that. If she comes with a little crazy, so be it. “Nothing could ever be too much when it comes to you, Stevie Sullivan.”
Chapter 27
Stevie
Adam crashed my date last night. It’s only fair that I get to crash his dinner with my parents, right? Yes. Definitely. There’s no way that dinner is happening without me. It stings that my mom didn’t include me, and it’s also telling.
What is she up to? She’s plotting something. Should members of the Committee to Determine the Outcome of Bigfoot Versus Boyfriend have private dinners? Is that unethical? Am I desperately grasping at straws because I feel excluded and butthurt?
No. I’m not.
I’ve washed the leftover stink of fried food out of my hair from my short shift at the diner, and it’s almost go time. I frown into the mirror, twisting a curling iron through the last strand of my straight hair when my phone buzzes on the counter. I swipe it open with my free hand while my hair cooks.
CRISPIN:
What’s your schedule like on Saturday night? Are you up for some more Squatch Watching?
I unwind the curling iron out of my hair, debating how to respond. I’ve shown him everything I can in the area where I had my sighting, but I’m not one to turn down easy money. And I need to spend as much time as possible in the woods. This one’s a no brainer.
ME:
I’m up for it, but I’m not sure I can show you anything you haven’t already seen.
He responds with a string of laughing emojis, then:
CRISPIN:
I like how you always catch me off guard.
CRISPIN:
Meet me at that little diner in town at 5:30? We can grab a quick bite before we leave
