The Monday morning after the photography exhibit, I meet with Bear.
Before Saturday, I’d been super excited about this meeting, because access to Bear is great on all counts. He can help me up my game on Wilder’s social media channels and make me a better content producer. But spending time one-on-one with him will also help me argue—not in words, but in actions—that I’d be an asset to him as a partner.
But this morning, I drag ass to the meeting.
It’s just…
It’s just those two fucking pinkies, touching.
Or, really, it’s my being an idiot about it.
As soon as I got out of that gallery and my head cleared, I felt foolish. So I’ve been having some confusing flashes of attraction for Hanna. So what? She’s an attractive woman who’s suddenly started wearing flattering clothes and makeup and generally putting herself out there as an available, sexual creature. Of course I’m going to notice.
But that’s all there is to it.
It’s just too absurd to imagine there being anything more.
Because then you get into scenarios like these, where I say to Hanna, “Hey. I’ve been spending a lot of time staring at your body lately, and I’m not so bearish on Bear. You should think about getting with me instead.”
Uh, sure. That’s going to fly.
I don’t have a clear picture of how she’d respond. Probably, she would just burst out laughing and say something suitably deflating, along the lines of, “Ha!”
And then it’s weird and awkward for a while, and my siblings notice and ask, and maybe Hanna even tells my sister and the others what happened…
Ugh. No.
Or…
Maybe Hanna says, “Huh! That sounds awesome,” and we look at each other for a long time before I lean in, and she leans in…
I don’t let myself imagine what happens next. I just skip ahead to where we get in a stupid spat about something, our friendship is ruined, and Gabe kills me in my sleep.
So, yeah.
Basically, I need to yank my head out of my ass, pull myself together. Probably get laid—
Britney?
I sigh, because it’s like imagining eating spinach, for health.
Not like ice cream.
Not even pistachio ice cream.
“Easton?”
Bear is watching me with an amused expression, paused midway through explaining about the scheduling software he prefers.
“Sorry,” I say, for what’s starting to feel like the ten millionth time in the last couple weeks. “I’m with you now. Swear.”
“I’m not boring you, am I?”
“Hell, no,” I say. “No. I’m all in on this stuff. I just thought of something I need to… take care of.”
I do my best to pay attention as Bear shows me how he plans his content schedule, how he decides when to reuse or repurpose footage across channels, and a bunch of other strategic stuff. It’s absolute gold, and I lap it up.
“You’re a quick study,” he says, sounding pleased, when I suggest a way he could break up a long YouTube video and use it to create some TikToks. “And you’ve got such a good feel for the TikTok vibe.”
“Thanks.”
“But I should let you know. The more I think about it, the less I like the idea of the job being remote. I’m going to make it an on-site position.”
On one hand that complicates things. Working for Bear would mean leaving not just Wilder Adventures, but also Rush Creek. But I’d also been thinking, since that conversation with my brothers in Oscar’s, that maybe getting out of Rush Creek would have its benefits.
“You still want me to consider you?”
I hesitate only a split second. “Absolutely.”
“Hey.” His voice gets more serious. “About Hanna.”
My stomach jolts, like the sickening drop of a roller coaster.
He doesn’t quite make eye contact with me. “She’s not… seeing anyone, is she? I just wanted to check to make sure I’m not treading on any toes if I spend more time with her.”
I open my mouth. Close it again. “Uh, no,” I say. “No. She’s not seeing anyone.”
“Not sure how to say this, but…” he hesitates.
Don’t say it! I think. If you’re not sure how to, that means don’t say it at all!
People, in general, are way too hasty to get their feelings off their chests. Better, sometimes, to just hold back until you realize they’re not actually all that interesting or important. Better to make a joke or just, you know, change the subject to something else entirely.
“You and she don’t have anything going on, do you? You guys just seem to have a thing. A… flirty vibe.”
I force a laugh. “Hanna and me? Definitely not. We’ve known each other since we were five. We don’t see each other like that. Plus, we work together—I mean, all day, every day, year round, not like on a few workshops—” Okay, definitely babbling. “—it would be weird. So, no. No… thing.”
Bear blows a breath. “Oh, good,” he says. “I, you know, didn’t want to ruffle feathers.”
“No feathers here,” I say.
It is definitely time for me to stop talking.
“Thanks, man.” Bear nods. “Appreciate it.”
“Yeah. Any time.”
We’re both silent for a moment, and then Bear says, “Oh, let’s talk about the Instagram algorithm and reels.”
We shift gears and do just that, but my mind is still shifty, tripping back to the conversation we just finished. The one where everything I said was true, and yet… not quite.