(18+) RED (Complete)

Ch. 39: Back to square one

"I'm joking!" Michael laughed when I threatened to pour the load of hotdogs over his head. God, how much I loved his laughter. I wasn't really annoyed at him either, because I knew he was just trying to pull my strings. And I gladly let him, because I simply couldn't get enough of it. This was how our friendship was from the beginning; teasing, joking and flirting, and I missed it more than I wanted to admit. The way we constantly bickered over the smallest and least important things, for one purpose only; to make the other one laugh.

"You know, all of this is quite surprising," I said and pointed around me. "It's like the last thing I'd expected from someone like you."

"Yeah? But you like it, right?"

"Very much. Although, it's more like 'glamping' rather than camping though, with the beautifully set table for two over there and the luxurious food we didn't eat. And not to forget the huge tents."

He chuckled.

"Oh."

"But I like that, too," I quickly added. And he looked relieved. "Maybe even more than regular camping. No, definitely more than regular camping. And the tents look really cool."

"Well... A guy has certain standards..." he dragged and scratched his neck, clearly feeling a bit awkward about it. I thought it was charming, though.

"How did you come up with the idea, anyway?" I asked and handed him one of the hotdogs on a stick, ready to go over the flickering flames. The smell of fire and the crackling sounds against the darkness around us, made this night extra special.

"My brother Randy said I had to find something unusual. Something that shows that I really care about you. Because I do. I hope you understand that."

He stared into the fire where both our hotdogs gradually got a juicy, fried layer on them. They were almost done now.

"Look, what happened was unforgivable," he started, but I shook my head to make him stop.

"Michael... Please. I don't want to talk about that. Not right now at least. Let's just eat and have a good time, okay?"

He nodded and connected his eyes with mine. They seemed depthless with regret.

"Okay. But we need to talk about it eventually, to be able to put it behind us and move on. I don't want this to end because of that. This... Us. It feels too good to just throw away, don't you think? It's worth fighting for."

I sighed.

"Yeah. I agree. It's just..."

Then my eyes went wide open and I gasped.

"Oh, my God! Your hotdog is burning!"

Michael giggled but didn't make a big number of it. He just hurried to put out the fire by blowing on it, and placed the hotdog in a piece of bread and prepared to eat. And with that, the conversation had taken a new turn.

"Oh, well. They say a little soot gives you a good singing voice."

"Like you need that," I scoffed. "Did your mother feed you burnt waffles while you grew up, or something?"

Michael giggled again and I could vaguely see him blush. He looked down and smiled shyly, the way only Michael could do when people talked about his talent. How did he not see it himself?

"Do you sing?" he asked.

"Only in the shower when I'm home alone," I admitted with embarrassment.

"Can I hear?"

"No way. I'm not singing for you. That would be like you; building a castle of gold, while I'm building a house of sand."