boys don't cry. [h.s]

twenty four

June

"How the fuck do you do this?!"

It was Niall's third swear-ridden exclamation in the last ten minutes, and it was still just as funny as the first one he'd made almost an hour ago.

He was standing shirtless with a snapback shoved backwards over his blonde hair, his shorts slung low on his hips as he waved the tent pole around dangerously. He'd already managed to smack Harry across the face with it, and Harry had punched him so hard in the ribs that Niall had taken a self-administered break from tent construction to recover.

"Harry, is this right?" Zayn said doubtfully. He was moaning just as much as Niall, but subtly so; deep sighs emitting from him every few minutes and mumbling curses under his breath. He held up a wonky looking section of the tent for Harry to inspect.

The two of them had somehow silently elected Harry as the leader, and Harry – to his credit, seeing as he was no more experienced than either of them – had accepted the role with grace. He wrestled silently with the tent, stopping every now and then to scratch the back of his neck and survey the oddly shaped, lopsided, poorly erected creation that the three of them had managed to make from a bag of pegs and poles.

"I don't think we've put it in right," Harry mused, pinching his bottom lip. "I don't think I should have stuck it in that hole."

"How many times have you said that before?" Liv snorted up at him, lying flat on her back on the ground. In the short time they'd been there, she'd wasted no time in pulling off her top and sprawling across the grass, lying only in her bra and shorts and a pair of sunglasses.

Caitlin and Isabel had taken to sitting in two of the camping chairs, their heads thrown back and their eyes closed as the sun radiated down on them. Isabel couldn't remember being this hot in a long time, and although the boys were making a mess of it, she was glad that they'd insisted they do everything so that she and the other girls could start drinking their way through the first few cans of beer that the boys had hauled all the way from the car park.

Technically they didn't have to camp – Liv's uncle had just about enough room in his house at the corner of the campsite for them to stay in – but the boys had argued that camping would be fun and so here they were. They were pitching their tents a little way away from the paying customers, just at the edge of the wood that led down to a huge lake, and from here they could just about see it, the glint of the sun off it through the trees.

There was something about camping that made boys suddenly much more aware of their Y chromosome, Isabel thought, because from the moment the two cars had met in the car park the three boys had insisted on doing everything. They'd dragged the crates of alcohol, along with the tents and their bags, across the campsite moaning and whining, but refusing all help.

And despite the fact that Liv was an experienced camper, and Isabel had been camping in Sweden lots of times too, the boys had insisted the girls relax while they put up the tents.

Or that is, attempted to.

"Don't need instructions," Niall had said breezily when Caitlin had suggested with a raised eyebrow that they ought to give the guidebook a quick scan before they set to it. He might as well have added "because we're men" to the end of the sentence, since the implication was there.

And yet, an hour later, here they were.

The sun was so hot that it was making Isabel drowsy. Camping chairs were surprisingly comfy – she'd always thought that – and before she knew it she'd fallen asleep with the can of beer still in her hand.

She was jolted awake by Niall jamming her in the arm with the leg of the camping chair he was doing battle with. Isabel noted he was wearing his tank top now, and he managed to successfully unfold the chair after swearing at it loudly a few times. He threw himself down into it with a loud sigh, closing his eyes and leaning back tiredly, clearly having accepted defeat on the tent front. She blinked and yawned, stretching and glancing over at Harry and Zayn. She had no idea how long she'd dozed off for, but now one tent was up and Zayn was going round and hammering in all the pegs half-heartedly with a scowl on his face. Harry was negotiating the second tent on his own, but now that they'd successfully done one he managed to get it up in just under ten minutes.