After a largely sleepless night, during which I had to use my inhaler twice more, Professor MacDowell keeps his promise and asks Professor Yuan to drive me into Moab using the camp's one vehicle.

The old Jeep, which a previous set of grad students had outfitted to look like the ones from Jurassic Park, has seen better days. It's practically a fossil itself, and typically reserved for use in the vicinity of camp. Unfortunately (and understandably, in my opinion) no one back at the preparation lab in Moab had been willing to sacrifice an entire day out of their busy schedules to drive all the way out here, pick me up, take me to a health clinic, and drive me back again.

I can tell Professor Yuan isn't excited by the prospect, either, and can only hope we have enough in common to allow for conversation. I'd almost rather walk to Moab than endure ninety minutes of awkward silence. There's always paleontology, of course, but Professor Yuan's area of interest is paleobotany, which I don't yet know much about.

Whether or not the professor and I had anything besides fossils in common becomes a moot point when, instead of Yuan, Hazel hops into the driver's seat, keys in hand.

"What are you doing? Where's Professor Yuan?"

Hazel grins. "Happily digging up dead things. I'm the camp assistant, after all. Driving people around is my job. 'Other duties as required,' and all that."

"Does your dad know?"

"Yup. Actually, it was partly his idea. I only asked to come along, and he said Xiaoming and I didn't both need to go, so I said 'pick me!' and he did."

Inserting the key in the ignition, he turns it. The Jeep's engine sputters and coughs a few times before rumbling to life.

"You can drive stick?" I ask, as he maneuvers the gearshift into position.

"Sure. Since I was ten."

"Ten?"

He shrugs. "Not much else for a bored kid to do in a place like this. After my mom died, I spent every summer in some godforsaken corner of the world, stuck with a bunch of adults obsessed with rocks." A humorless laugh escapes him and he shakes his head. "My dad thinks forcing me to come here is me and him 'bonding,' somehow. For me it's just a bad memory come to life."

"I'm sorry." Unsure what else to say, I add, "At least your dad wants to spend time with you."

Hazel casts me a glance as the Jeep bounces down the unpaved track from camp and onto the only slightly smoother road below. "I guess. So, how did you spend your summers as a kid?"

Sensing a desire to change the topic, I comply, and we spend the rest of the ride into town in safer territory. He keeps me entertained the whole way, laughing at his stories and jokes, and we're pulling up and parking in front of the urgent care health clinic before I know it.

To my surprise, Hazel gets out as well and follows me towards the front door.

"You're coming in with me?"

He shrugs. "Sure. Why not?"

I cringe at the unexpectedly loaded question. Why not? Because people might think we're a couple; that's why not, if I'm being completely honest.

"No reason. I just didn't expect you to. You don't have to, either. You can go do something else, if you want. It'll probably be a long wait."

Failing to pick up on the desperation in my suggestion, he shrugs. "Nah, I don't mind. I'd rather stick with you, anyway, than wander around alone. I used to go to appointments with my mom all the time."

Not knowing what to say to that, I stay quiet as he holds the door for me.

Inside, I check in at the reception desk and take a seat, clipboard and paperwork in hand. Hazel keeps talking the whole time, commenting on everything from the office decor to what we'll get to eat later, and whether it will be lunch or dinner by the time we're done.

Meanwhile, all I can concentrate on is the stares of the other people in the waiting room, and the imagined speculation and judgment in their gaze.

No one in this town knows me, and I'll be gone in a little over a week. If I'm not even brave enough to be out here, how am I going to handle it once we're back in Crestwood? What if Hazel tries to hold my hand in public? What if—

In my peripheral vision, Hazel moves. I snatch my hand away, then make an awkward show of scratching my other arm, as if that's what I'd meant to do all along.

After a few seconds pass, I sneak a glance at Hazel. From his expression, I can tell that, whether he'd actually been reaching for my hand or not, my reaction hasn't gone unnoticed.

"Charlie, I—"

"Charlie Hill?"

I bolt to my feet as the nurse calls my name. "That's me."

"This way, please."

Hazel starts to follow me, but the nurse holds up her hand. "Excuse me, sir. Who are you? Only patients and family beyond this point."

"Oh. Um..." Hazel glances at me uncertainly. "I'm just..."

Heat rises to my face and my heart pounds. Suddenly, and with perfect clarity, I'm aware that this is one of those pivotal moments on which a whole future depends. What I do or say now could affect how Hazel feels about me for the rest of his life.

I reach over and take his hand. "He's with me," I say.

A pink blush tints the nurse's cheeks. "Right this way, then."

She leads us to an exam room where she takes my vitals and asks nearly as many questions as I had to answer on the form. A few minutes later, the doctor comes in and asks for a more detailed account of my episode, after which she prescribes a longer lasting asthma medicine and an anti-anxiety drug to use in case of another attack.

Hazel doesn't let go of my hand the whole time. It's a little sweaty and awkward, but the happiness coming off him like sunlight can't be faked, and I wouldn't let him go for the world.

🐚

Once we're done at the clinic, we pick up my prescriptions from a nearby pharmacy and walk across the street to a little burrito shop for a late lunch. Hazel beams the whole time, and I feel like nothing could ruin his mood—an assumption swiftly put to the test when, having finished eating, we get back in the Jeep and it fails to start.

"Don't worry; it does this sometimes," Hazel says. "Just gotta give it a minute."

We give it several minutes, and several more tries before he admits defeat.

"Alright, nobody panic," he says, holding up his hands, then glances at me with an apologetic wince. "Sorry. Didn't mean to throw that word around."

"Don't worry." I rattle the bottle of pills. "I'm covered."

Almost without meaning to, I meet his eyes and find I can't look away.

Dusty afternoon sunlight streams through the windshield of the Jeep, striking his face at just the right angle to make his blue eyes light up like electric sapphires. His skin is smooth and tan from weeks in the sun, his jaw pebbled with stubble, and his smile is clean and bright.

"I'd really like to kiss you right now," he says, straightforward as ever. "But I won't even ask."

He reaches over and touches the side of my face instead, then lets his hand drop with a sigh.

"Why, and why not?" I ask quietly. It's if we're in our own little pocket of the universe, parked on the side of this nowhere street, trapped in a car that won't start in the summer heat. We might as well be at sea, for how adrift I feel, like Hazel is the only thing that's real in a world of dreams.

"'Cause you're fucking gorgeous, and because I'm in love with you," he says, wilting a little, "and because you'll say no."

All I can do is stare at him. 'In love,' still feels unreal. Maybe Hazel is the sort of person who can fall in love this fast, but I'm not sure I am. More importantly, I'm not sure he's got the patience to wait for me if I'm not.

"Anyway." He breaks eye contact first and pulls out his phone. "I'll call roadside assistance. Maybe the battery just died."

Half an hour later, a grizzled tow-truck driver delivers bad news.

"Battery's fine," he says, leaning over the Jeep's engine. "Best I can do is give you boys a tow."

Some time later, we arrive at the garage, and receive the news that the Jeep has a broken distributor cap (which means absolutely nothing to me). The good news is it's easy and relatively cheap to fix. The bad news is the mechanic is busy and can't get to it until tomorrow.

"Fuuuck." Hazel runs his hands through his hair and takes a breath. "Okay, lemme call my dad's sat phone and see what he says." We have that on our side, at least—we'd taken turns charging our cells on the way here. "He never picks up, but hopefully someone will."

With charging unreliable and coverage spotty, his dad's Iridium satellite phone functions as the camp's emergency line and is kept where someone will hear it if it rings.

From the sounds of it, that person is Kaja, one of the doctoral students, who promptly relays the call to Hazel's dad. They chat for a while, and I half listen while watching a line of ants march along the top of the low brick wall outside the mechanic's shop, where we sit. It's been a long day already, I'm getting tired, and when I get tired, I'm not always the best company.

"What did he say?" I ask, when Hazel ends the call.

Hazel sighs. "He said we better start walking, because he wants us back in camp by sundown."

"What!? That's impossible. He's got to be..." I trail off as I catch on.

"Kidding?" Hazel lifts a brow at me and giggles. "God, you're so cute. I just can't help teasing you sometimes."

Glaring, I scowl at him. "So, what did he really say?"

Eyes twinkling with roguish humor, Hazel grins. "He said we should get a room."

I know he's telling the truth this time, but at the moment, I can't tell if I like it any more than the idea of walking fifty miles back to camp.