Bad Friend

8- Sparks

"Is there a reason you decided to take us on a six hour drive when there were plenty of much closer campsites in San Diego?" I asked Harry after our third hour in traffic.

Harry looked over and smiled, all dimples and boyish charm. "You don't like camping?"

"Have you met my mother?" I quipped back. Camping just wasn't something my family did. My mother hated the outdoors and Dad was, well, Dad.

"I haven't, actually. Why is that?" he asked me, his eyes trained on the road ahead of him. His voice was level, conversational, but I could tell he was curious.

"Lucky you," I muttered. At his raised eyebrows, I quickly moved on. "She lives in Hong Kong now. It's just me and Dad down in San Diego, and you know how he is."

Harry hummed, but didn't say anything else. He'd met my dad enough to understand that he was a little peculiar, and that he rarely left the shop or our apartment above it.

It took a lot of convincing on Harry's part to get me to go camping with him. As a result of my upbringing, I had never been one for the great outdoors. And I didn't think Harry would be either, seeing as he had taken up a liking for Gucci, Yves Saint Laurent, and a number of other luxury brands in the last year or so. Yet there he was, leaning against the door of my sophomore year dorm room, bags packed and car running. After he spent twenty minutes trying to pull me out of my room, I eventually gave in. I was going to be leaving for the week anyway for Spring Break, might as well get a fun trip with my friend out of it.

Harry, of course, never told me the camping excursion was six hours away.

When we finally got to our destination, Harry made me set up the tent with him. It took longer than expected, Harry clearly not as adept in tent-setup as he thought he was, and I clearly had no idea what I was doing. We argued over the instructions and where the best spot to lay the tarp down was, but after more effort than anticipated, we managed to put the tent up. I was a little worried that it would fall over with a gust of wind in the middle of the night, but it was up.

Inside, Harry rolled out two separate sleeping bags for us. "Could be just one, you know," he said, a smug little smirk on his face. "Ow, okay, got it," he winced when I punched him in the arm as a form of response.

Despite my lack of appreciation for nature, we had a good time. We hiked different trails, laid next to each other by a lake, and ended our first night by a campfire that took way too long to make. That night we went to sleep in our own sleeping bags, but side by side.

"G," Harry whispered the next morning, shaking my shoulder. "G, wake up."

"What do you want, Edward?" I muttered, turning over and away from him.

"Come on, G. We're going on a sunrise hike," Harry said, unzipping my sleeping bag and dragging me out of it.

"I was supposed to be at a house in Ocean Beach, you know," I told Harry a while later once he managed to get me out of my sleeping bag and into a pair of shoes and fixed up a backpack with water bottles and protein bars in it. It wasn't all bad, I supposed. Once I was up and walking around, I woke up a little more, Harry buzzing around me like he'd had multiple espresso shots before he'd even woken me up.

Harry put an arm around my shoulders and pulled me into his side while we walked. "Were you? I'm sorry about that, but isn't this so much better?"

"Define better," I mumbled, but there was a small smile flickering on my lips.

"Oh, come on now," he said, skipping ahead of me. "A sunrise hike with your best friend—"