Warning: RWB spoilers ahead.
Some say the best love stories often take time.
Emery Chernychevsky has had a crush on Cameron Brooks since he can remember. Watching him date different girls all throughout high school was nothing if not pure torture...
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The thing about planned trips is that most of the time, they don't end the way you'd expect them to.
Over the years, Emery has taught himself to prepare for the worst as to not be overly stupefied by impending disappointment, which was why for tonight's hike, his expectations didn't exactly exceed that high. However, what he mistakenly did not take into consideration was that preparing for the "worst" was anything but enough because what the word "worst" entails is not something someone who is not trained for evening hikes could possibly see coming out of mere presumption.
Of course, Emery didn't know that, neither did he think that it could be worse than scraping his knee or stepping blind on a pile of crap until he found himself stuck alone in the middle of the hiking route his friends relentlessly claimed was "safer than Noah's zoo boat", which as he is now realizing, cannot be further from the truth.
"Shit," Emery hissed. The word could more than possibly be his last considering how many times he'd said it over the past five minutes.
Not counting the light coming from his phone, from where he is, everything was just about pitch black and the moon wasn't doing him much favor either. As if those weren't enough, he's pretty sure he just heard something growl from afar.
So yeah, as you've probably already gathered, he's lost, wandering in the heart of the woods with nothing on him but a dead signal and a broken flashlight. To add, he's almost certain that there's a high chance he's standing in the vicinity of a snake den.
To put it briefly, he's pretty much screwed.
"Come on, pick up, pick up, pick up," he muttered religiously under his breath, wild eyes on full alert in case a mountain lion jumps his ass or something. Emery cursed out loud again when all his calls went straight to voicemail. "Shit."
He wanted to convince himself that the rustling he's hearing from behind him was nothing but his imagination playing tricks on his already panicked brain, tried so hard to keep trudging what he believes is still the hiking trail that will hopefully lead him to his friends, but the noises kept coming.
As he's facing the possibility of a worst-case scenario called death, Emery is suddenly reminded of all the time he'd wasted browsing on Amazon and the half-done doggy sweater he'd knit for his pug Mattie he's yet to finish knitting. He fears he never will.
"God," he fretted, squeezing his eyes shut in fear. "I'm gonna die in here."
Was he being dramatic? Possibly. He hopes he is because he is sure as hell not looking forward to dying there. Especially not while wearing that god-awful outfit.
Two hours earlier
"Blake!"
Outside the beach house, everyone was chanting the name, eager to leave in a fit of pique and mosquito bites.
"Fina-fucking-lly!" Blake yelled as soon as he hopped out of the house, almost forgetting the lock the door before he jumped up the back of the pick-up truck, following his bag as it landed heavily on the metal floor. He faced his friends, who've all been waiting for him to come out in the last thirty minutes. "I told you guys this would happen."
