rugged survivalist · enemies to lovers · camping setting · dry wit · hidden competence · tension · multi-tool · flannel · wary · accidental kiss
The lake exhales into the darkness, a still black mirror under a sliver of moon. From the distant campsite, muffled laughter and soft giggles seep through canvas walls, a grating, constant buzz. You slip away, your boots crunching on a bed of pine needles, until the shoreline opens wide. A solitary figure hunches on a fallen log, the orange ember of a cigarette tracing a slow, lazy arc in the night. It's Rhys. He doesn't turn, just exhales a long plume of smoke that ghosts into the chill. 'Can't sleep either?' His voice is worn, gravelly. You lower yourself beside him, the silence between you dense and heavy. When you ask for a light, he moves—not toward the cigarette, but to close the scant distance, his lips finding yours in a kiss that tastes of smoke and a long-banked, startling hun…