Grapes Upside Down

60. Hors d'oeuvres

~Madisen~

"Fucking hell!" Noah curses as he and Raymond dissemble the tent after breakfast the following morning. 

I'm just returning from the restroom, and I squint my eyes with curiosity as Clara doubles over in laughter.

"What a spectacular piece of shit!" Noah declares, forcefully tossing the frayed remnants of the tent into a heap at his feet. 

"Could you imagine if we had another night of camping left?" Raymond asks, shaking his head with bemusement. 

"¿Qué pasó?" I can't help but sidle right up to Noah, even though we aren't officially anything more than friends, and our hiking mates have no idea that we kissed at the top of a mountain yesterday. In the most natural manner imaginable, he snakes his arm around me and squeezes.

"One of the poles literally snapped in half!" Clara blurts, wiping her eyes. 

Noah's next move is to scoop up the tent carcass, march across the campsite and stuff it matter-of-factly into the garbage bin. The way that he's genuinely pissed off at the tent is more than adorable, and the fact that his irritation never manifests as threatening causes my heart to melt a little bit further. 

Rather than a waterfall of scorching lava, the love flowing from the center of my chest is a slow simmer of bubbly, golden butter.

"Carpa de mierda," Noah mutters upon his return, cursing the tent once more for good measure--this time in Spanish.

"Look on the bright side!" I chirp, my mood annoyingly perky. "It held up for the exact number of nights we needed it. We should be grateful for that!"

I crack up before finishing my pep talk, observing as Noah's eyebrows bend into a dramatic V-shape. 

Stepping towards me, he speaks with embellished indignance: "Excuse me. Were you the one re-engineering our form of shelter for an hour each night for the past five nights?"

I cover a loud, throaty snort with a hand clasped over my mouth.

This type of little act is Noah's secret weapon of humor; he pretends to be more upset by situations than he actually is, affecting reactions that are simultaneously melodramatic and subtle. The best part is, he fully commits to the part and never really lets on that he's joking.

"Seriously, though." Clara says. "We were about to be so screwed. What would we have done?" 

"Daria and Daniela would've had to make friends with more park rangers," jibes Raymond, causing Clara to belt out one loud guffaw before she pushes his shoulder. 

Throughout the trip, they have started to get more physical with each other, creeping into one another's space and finding ways to touch. It's exciting to watch their chemistry grow right in front of my eyes, and the fact that I'm rooting for them means that I haven't given up on belief in healthy romance.

"We are so lucky it lasted the whole trip," I emphasize. "Also, I can't believe that it hasn't rained anymore!"

I had been so nervous when my rain gear immediately disintegrated into shreds. Now, that first day feels like a distant memory; my anxiety has been cleansed by the fresh mountain air, worry pumped from my blood stream with endorphins, the remaining toxins of shame pressed out my pours with each steady stomp through the mud. 

"Madisen!" shrieks Clara. "Why would you say something like that? We still have a six-hour hike today--you're going to jinx us!"

"I'm not sure my words have meteorological power," I quip back.