“Who’s idea was this? Someone remind me please.”

Schuyler Tate hefted the cooler from the bed of his truck and set it on the picnic table in their campsite with a definitive ‘thud.’ He surveyed his three companions, each sizing up the other and, no doubt, deciding who it would be best to lay the blame on. He rolled his eyes and went back to the truck, grabbing some folding chairs and a table. The guilty culprit still hadn’t been decided on when he dropped those on the ground next to the picnic table.

Fan-freakin’-tastic.

Here he was, stuck in the woods for the next three days, four if he included today, with three people who conveniently forgot whose idea the entire trip was. Commander Cruger had decided they needed some time off—a week to be exact. And Z—yes, it had been Z—suggested they go camping the first weekend, and make it an extended trip by leaving Friday afternoon and not returning until Monday morning.

He wasn’t sure what sins he committed in a previous life to deserve being stuck in the woods—well, state park—with Bridge, Z and Syd for a weekend, but he must have done something. Something bad.

Since no one wanted to volunteer Z, he just said, “Can someone besides me help unload the truck?”

That snapped everyone to attention. Z smirked at him as she climbed into the bed of the truck. Her yellow tank top didn’t quite meet the waistband of her shorts, revealing a tattoo on her lower back. The Chinese character for happiness? Huh. He learned something new every day. She passed a plastic container of dry goods to Bridge, and handed him the box that held the other supplies—matches, cookware, clothesline, charcoal and other such necessities.

“Stop whining,” Bridge told him in an almost conversational tone. “This will be great.”

If ‘great’ involved the California summer heat and the SPD Princess… sure.

“Agreed,” Z added, now dropping duffel bags over the side of the truck. Z and Bridge both looked like they’d packed accordingly for the long weekend. Syd, on the other hand, appeared to have brought her whole wardrobe and then some. Good grief! What did the woman think she was possibly going to do with all that stuff? He refrained from shaking his head and caught his backpack as Z threw it at him. “Is that all you brought?” she asked.

“Yes,” he replied tersely.

“Sky, I seriously doubt there’s another whole outfit in there.”

“We’re camping. I don’t need outfits.” He’d packed the bare essentials—how he had packed for camping trips since childhood. One pair of jeans for cold nights, a few pairs of lightweight shorts, a few t-shirts or tank tops, and a pair of swim trunks… he wore his hiking boots, and his flip-flops and a lightweight jacket were inside the backpack. Seriously. Couldn’t everyone else fit that much in a normal backpack?

“Camping,” Bridge said. “Not outdoor survival.”

Sky bit back the response that when his family went camping, it was outdoor survival.

Bridge turned from the gear on the ground next to Sky’s truck and to the shelter. Sky had to admit, the only good idea Z had was reserving a campsite with a shelter and not one of the primitive ones with only a picnic table. “So… sleeping arrangements?”

Good change of subject. “Girls can have the shelter,” Sky responded quickly. “We’ll take the tent.” Bridge nodded in agreement.

“Sleep on the dirty floor?” Syd said, her voice close to a screech.

“That, or sleep on the ground,” Sky told her evenly.

“Syd, come on,” Z interjected. “There are plugs in the shelter. We can set up the fans.”

Fans. Sky snorted. Some camping trip they were on. None of them would last for five minutes on the latest incarnation of Survivor, now being shown on some tiny island in the Philippines somewhere. Never mind the fact that all of them had intense outdoor survival training, including survival training on planets with varying atmospheres. All of them knew how to stay alive along enough for SPD to find them if they had been stranded with only the clothes on their back.

He grabbed the tent from the pile of gear beside his truck.

“Bridge, let’s go,” he called, dragging his long-time roommate behind the shelter to start the process of getting the two-man tent up and their stuff stowed in it.

“All my make-up is going to melt in this heat,” he heard Syd comment as the shelter door banged shut.

This was going to be a very long camping trip.

“Oh my God,” Syd continued. “Who packed all these marshmallows?”

Had the woman ever heard of s’mores?

He let out a long breath. Strike his first statement, this was going to be the longest camping trip of his entire life.

- - - - -

Z watched the others’ faces, oddly distorted in the flickering firelight. Night had fallen, but that didn’t mean a lull into the peacefulness like outdoor survival training. No, crying and screaming kids, parents blasting Disney music and a group of Boy Scouts thrashing around in the woods made the scene anything but quiet. They, themselves, the four current members of the B-Squad, had fallen into silence, each of them staring into the flames. It was oddly soothing, watching the fire crackle and burn.

Bridge was munching on a s’more—at least Syd had finally figured out why there were so many marshmallows, graham crackers and half-melted Hershey’s bars in with the rest of the food. The night had cooled some, but it was still hot outside. Sky was off in his own little world. She figured that if anyone called his name, he’d jump about a foot. And Syd…

Well wasn’t that interesting? The Pink Ranger was eyeing up Sky, and he was completely ignorant of it. Then again, a straight woman or a gay man would have to be dead to not be turned on by Sky right now. His red nylon shorts—a concession to his new ranger color—were rumpled and emphasized all the right things. His wife beater was just a shade or two off being pristine white, but the fabric was old and hugged his torso like a second skin… and the man was ripped. And not run-to-the-gym, personal trainer, carefully cultivated muscles ripped. He was built from the hard training at SPD, especially since he had taken all kinds of Special Ops training. The rumor had been he could have become a Navy SEAL.

Very interesting.

She turned to Bridge, who was attempting to eat his s’more without getting melted marshmallow and chocolate all over his gloves… or his face. Z angled her chair closer to him. Syd had propped her head on her hand, staring dreamily at Sky. Probably hoping he’d get an attitude change and declare his undying love, like those stupid romance novels she read all the time.

Yeah right.

That only happened in the movies and this wasn’t a movie.

Sky suddenly snapped out of his reverie and glanced at his watch. “We should turn in,” he said, standing up and moving towards their water bucket next to the fire.

Z nodded, moving to help. When camping, it was easier to go to bed early—once the sun set—and get up with the sun. It minimized the dealings with flashlights. Besides, she was rather glad that she and Syd had the shelter. Z had left her flashlight back in New Tech City.

Soon enough, the fire had been extinguished to Sky’s perfectionist standards and the men were bidding them goodnight. Z followed Syd into the shelter and grabbed her toothbrush, waiting impatiently as Syd extracted a huge shower kit from her multiple pieces of luggage.

“So… what’s with you and Sky?” Z asked casually as they made their way along the lit path to the women’s bathroom.

Syd nearly tripped on an exposed tree root. Z took that to mean that she didn’t have a witty reply available to that particular question.

“What’s with you and Bridge?” Syd shot back after a long moment.

“Absolutely nothing, except hanging from chandeliers having wild monkey—“

“That’s Bridge!” Syd interrupted. “And that’s gross.”

“Can’t tell me you don’t want to get it on with Sky?”

“Not hanging from a chandelier.”

They fell silent as they finished the relatively short walk to the bathroom. At just before ten in the evening, the bathroom was apparently the hot place to be. The line snaked out the door and around the wooden building. Z tapped her foot to a rhythm in her head, mulling over what Syd had said. The Pink Ranger had always had a thing for Sky. But in all their interactions, Z had seen nothing to suggest that Sky viewed Syd as anything more than a wayward little sister or cousin. Someone to be indulged and put up with, but out of sight, then out of mind.

“You know,” Z said finally. “We did pack some Absolut and a lot of beer.” She paused. “He hasn’t partied in a couple years—his tolerance will be down.”

“Are suggesting we get Sky trashed?” The Yellow Ranger nodded. “In hopes that he might not treat me like a kid sister anymore?”

“That’s the idea, Princess.”

A wicked grin split Syd’s face. “Tomorrow night,” she said definitively. “Bridge won’t mind bunking in the shelter.”

Z rolled her eyes. “Oh come on, if I suggest it, Bridge will do anything. He seriously thinks no one knows he has a crush on me… I’ve known it since day one.”

“Well, he is a little obvious about everything. 

“Yeah, but I don’t plan on getting him trashed.”

“Let’s just hope the Ranger doesn’t check up on us.” Because alcohol was strictly forbidden in state parks.

Z fought back a laugh. Time to let Operation… well, Operation Something or other begin to unfold starting with tomorrow night’s dinner. Poor Sky. He really wouldn’t know what hit him.

- - - - -

Z counted to three and then hefted her end of the cooler. Bridge dutifully picked up his end and they started the process of dragging the heavy item out of the shelter and next to the lawn chairs by the fire pit. Between the ice, the two twelve-packs of beer and miscellaneous juice and items that needed to be kept on ice, the thing weighed a ton. The cooler had been borrowed from Sky’s family, as had almost all of their camping gear. He’d said something about how his family—whole, extended family—went camping several times a year. She rather preferred Bridge’s family, who all got together at someone’s house, cooked and baked, proceeded to alternate between stuffing their faces and lying around like beached whales.

Speaking of beached whales, that’s what she thought they’d be doing on this camping trip. She appeared to be in the minority, since she had wanted to sit around and sunbathe. Sky dragged them on all the hiking trails, then Bridge suggested they rent a paddleboat and take it around the lake. Good grief, she wasn’t this exhausted after a day of training. Being tired wasn’t a vacation and it wasn’t fun. Part of her wanted to throw a fit about it, but thought better of it. Sky would be in a better mood after getting trashed and hooking up with Syd.

Maybe.

“Why do we always gauge things by Sky’s moods?” Z grumbled as they lugged the cooler to the empty fireside. Sky had gone to buy some firewood from the ranger and Syd had decided to take a bathroom break.

“Well, he is the squad’s leader,” Bridge replied.

“No, I mean, we never had to tiptoe around Jack.” They set the cooler down—finally. “But with Sky, it’s like walking on eggshells.”

“He just needs to get laid.”

Z snorted, turning to Bridge. “Ignoring the fact that you just said that, you really think so?”

“I’m not naïve, Z,” he retorted, sounding a little defensive. “Besides, Sky’s been my roommate for years. If he hasn’t had a girlfriend, he’s had some girl around, right up until we were made Rangers.” Bridge paused, smiling almost nostalgically. “Syd used to get so mad when he’d get a new girlfriend every other week.”

“Whoa, backtrack.” The Yellow Ranger laid a hand on Bridge’s arm. “He had a new girlfriend every other week? Mr. Goody-two-shoes, I’m so perfect, I love myself so much I’d suck my own dick if I could?”

Bridge nodded. “Yeah, that’s about right.”

“Interesting.”

Z leaned over the cooler, opening it and rummaging through the ice. Bridge’s gaze was on her backside and she knew it—he really was painfully obvious. She hadn’t said anything yet, but was pretty sure she’d end up making the first move. “Miller or Dos Equis?” she asked him.

“Miller,” he replied.

She extracted a Miller and a Dos Equis. The sun was beginning to sink behind the horizon. In another half hour, the camp would be dark enough that no one would see what they were drinking. It wasn’t like no one else drank. She’d seen some guys grilling something earlier and openly chugging away at their Bud.

Syd wandered back into the campsite and grabbed a Miller for herself. Sky came back with the firewood and arched an eyebrow disapprovingly at their open consumption of alcohol. “Bridge and I will get the fire,” Z called, hopping into the bed of the truck. “You just go socialize.” She almost laughed when Bridge physically pushed him towards the fire pit, where Syd had pulled out an assortment of roast-over-the-fire food and was sitting back with her drink.

Despite their Red Ranger’s preconceived notions, she and Bridge were more than capable of starting a fire and keeping it going, without threatening to burn down the park. To her eternal surprise, Sky was actually drinking the Dos Equis. Even more interesting. She’d have to switch to the Miller in order for the plan to work. But it was a small sacrifice. What was it with these people and domestic beers? Or foreign beers. Whatever.

Z grabbed two marshmallows and stuck them on the roasting fork. It was too easy to catch the whole thing on fire, and even easier to squeal like a stuck pig, waving the flaming marshmallows around.

“Z, what the—“ Sky caught himself right before he said, ‘what the hell?’ He grabbed her wrist, preventing her from flailing the marshmallow around. He then gently blew out the puffy confections—now burnt to a crisp and unusable in a s’more, unless she decided that charcoal was good for her stomach.

“Gee, thanks,” she said, trying to muster up a sheepish tone.

Sky just rolled his eyes and went back to his lawn chair. Syd was grinning wickedly, meaning she’d succeeded in replacing Sky’s mostly empty beer with a fresh one. He frowned a little at the full beer, but didn’t question it, just drank deeply.

Z accepted the fresh marshmallows from Bridge. He was giving her an odd look—he hadn’t been brought into the plan. She mouthed, ‘I’ll tell you later,’ at him. He nodded, but didn’t look entirely convinced that the situation was entirely kosher.

After a few minutes of marshmallow-roasting peacefulness, Syd let out a blood-curdling scream, jumping up from her lawn chair and clawing at her hair dramatically. Sky automatically jumped up with her, trying to ascertain what the distress was.

“Spider,” Syd whimpered. “There was a spider.”

Z found it amusing that Bridge had ceased watching the spider performance and had begun to watch her every move. “Syd, it’s just a spider,” she called, striding over to the cooler.

“I hate bugs!” Syd whined. “They’re so gross.”

The Yellow Ranger popped open the cooler and pulled out a fresh Dos Equis. She popped the top off and replaced Sky’s mostly finished second beer with the new one. His old beer—finished off by her—was in the trash bag before Sky had turned away from Syd’s screeching. Surprisingly, he was being patient with the near-hysterical (or so he thought) Pink Ranger. He spoke soothingly to her and even combed through her hair to make sure the non-existent spider was gone.

Well, this just got better and better.

Z sank into a lawn chair, watching with some amusement as Sky sat Syd down, gently rubbing her shoulder. God, the Princess was a good actress. Damn good—Academy Award good. Bridge handed her a fresh s’more from the recent batch of marshmallows.

“Sky?” Bridge piped up after they’d finished their s’mores.

“What?” Sky asked, sounding exasperated.

“I think something’s wrong with the tent. Can you take a look at it?”

Damn, Bridge picked up on things fast. Well, he was psychic. Z had learned a long time ago not to play cards with him—especially poker. Sky sighed and drained his current—third—beer, before getting up and heading towards the tent that he and Bridge were sharing. Well, the tent they had shared last night. Syd quickly switched out the mostly empty beer with a full one. Z couldn’t quite believe that the plan was working this well.

And Bridge—who was quickly working his way towards Einstein in her book—came up with the next diversion. What was a camping trip without horror stories around the campfire? Sky didn’t appear to be paying much attention to the urban legends about a girl who found her boyfriend hanging from a tree branch. The storytelling and intermittent digging through the cooler provided more than enough opportunities to switch out Sky’s beers. Z actually lost count of how many he’d had.

Except that he was suddenly in a very good mood, despite not being overly articulate and having lost some sense of coordination and balance.

“You know, Syd,” Sky said suddenly. “You’re really pretty.”

Z snorted, while Bridge gaped.

Syd whispered something in his ear and he eagerly agreed to it. The Pink Ranger helped him stand, which turned out to be an Olympic feat in and of itself. “We’ll just put out the fire!” Bridge called after them as they headed towards the tent. He turned towards her. “Guess I’m sleeping in the shelter tonight.”

“Is there a problem with that?” Z asked.

“None at all,” he replied with a grin. “Hope they don’t get too loud.”

Headlights shone on their campsite as they started to put out the fire. Someone killed the engine of the truck and the park ranger headed towards them. Fantastic. “You kids all right?” the ranger called out, shining a flashlight over them. What was this? Cops?

“Yeah, we’re good!” Z called back.

“I just saw a young man looking unsteady.”

“Oh, Sky?” Z asked.

“He had a head injury a few years ago,” Bridge added, lying smoothly. “He’s over it, but if he stays up too late, his balance can get a little weird.”

The ranger looked interested. “What’s he do?”

“He’s with SPD,” Bridge said, acting as if he were letting the ranger in on some huge secret. “He’s one of the Rangers. Alien totally knocked out his morphed form and attacked him in civilian form. He’s lucky to be alive.”

“Oh,” the ranger sounded sympathetic. “Tell him to get some rest.” He headed back for his truck. “Night, kids!”

Z shook her head, shaking with silent laughter. A loud moan issued from the tent. “You were saying about being loud?” she asked, batting her eyelashes as Bridge finished putting out the fire.

“I just hope they have protection.”

“Or there might be a little bundle of mistake.”

Bridge laughed and motioned towards the cooler. “Let’s get this thing inside.” They hefted the cooler and succeeded in getting it into the shelter. Bridge opened it, shuffling through the partially melted ice. “How much of each beer did we have?”

“A dozen of each,” she replied.

“Okay, there’s eight Millers left.”

“I had one, you had one and Syd had two,” Z counted off quickly.

“And there’s three Dos Equis.”

“I had one and Sky had… eight?”

They exchanged a long glance before collapsing into helpless laughter.

- - - - -

“Sky! Come on! Wait up! We don’t have to go this fast!”

Sky ignored Bridge, not really caring if his long-time roommate and friend caught up with him or not. Bridge was smart enough to find his way back to the campsite if he got lost. The current Red Ranger just continued down the trail, wondering if they’d ever get to the waterfall and small pool like the map said was there.

God, he didn’t know why he’d let himself go along with their little scheme last night. He’d known about the beer switches—what kind of idiot couldn’t see that? He hadn’t planned on getting through so many though, enough that he remembered why he’d declared himself the designated driver after going drinking with Dru a few times. A handful of blistering hangovers were enough for him. He wasn’t all that hung-over—just woke up with a headache and thirsty as hell. Oh yeah, and he’d woken up naked with an equally as naked Syd draped over his chest. Fantastic.

A part of him was exploding with righteous indignation. What kind of woman got a man drunk just to have her way with him? Apparently, Syd, aided and abetted by Z and Bridge. But Christ, would he have ever slept with her under normal circumstances? No. He wouldn’t have even dreamed of asking her on a date, let alone this. It just didn’t excuse the fact that she had used him.

“Please slow down!” Bridge called.

Finally taking a modicum of pity on his closest friend, Sky stopped, waiting for Bridge to jog the few yards that separated them.

“Look,” Bridge panted, catching up and leaning over to catch his breath. “I know you’re mad about last night.”

“That’s because you’re psychic,” Sky grumbled half-heartedly, already knowing Bridge’s automatic response to the statement.

“I don’t have to be psychic to know that,” was the retort. “And my powers don’t work like that,” the current Blue Ranger continued. “If I’m wearing gloves, I can’t read anything. Remember? It’s just my hands, nothing else.”

“What do you want me to say?” Sky asked. “That I’m not really angry about what happened last night and that I plan on marching off and declaring my undying love for Syd.” He shook his head. “This isn’t a movie.”

“Come on,” Bridge replied. “Syd likes you in a very non-platonic way and it’s completely obvious to everyone except you. And you know she’s got that romantic streak where she wants the guy to make the first move and all.”

“I don’t like her in a non-platonic way.”

“Would have slept with her if you didn’t, even in your subconscious?”

Probably not, but he didn’t say that to Bridge.

“Besides,” Bridge went on. “I know you were pretty trashed, but I also know you. Even drunk, you wouldn’t sleep with someone you weren’t attracted to, even if the attraction was purely physical.”

“Bridge, you’re not helping.” Sky let out a long breath. “I just have to work this out on my own and I can’t guarantee that Syd won’t get hurt.”

“Well—”

“Do not even try to tell me what she said or did this morning.”

Bridge snapped his mouth shut and Sky continued down the trail at a more sedate pace, mostly so his roommate wouldn’t complain about going too fast. He’d always been faster and stronger than Bridge, but the current Blue Ranger made up for that lack in flexibility and agility. Bridge could bend in some weird ways and quickly get into places that most other people couldn’t.

Sky had left the campsite shortly after waking up that morning. The park was still asleep for the most part and the showers had been empty. Even the pounding water couldn’t take away the stress and anxiety of what had happened. He’d left Syd alone in the tent, simply because he couldn’t deal with his emotions and hers. He didn’t know what she thought about last night—he wasn’t sure he wanted to know because his imagination was giving him a myriad of choices. Those choices ran from completely wicked elation to heartbroken.

“Hey,” Bridge suddenly said from behind him. “Isn’t this where we need to turn off for the waterfall?”

The current Red Ranger glanced at the map and back at Bridge. “You’re right,” he said simply and they turned onto the small footpath. He could hear rushing water and knew that they were getting close.

He stopped short once the pool came into view. Well, the pool was already occupied. That, in and of itself, did not bother him. But the current occupants did bother him.

“What are you—” But Bridge stopped speaking when he saw who was in the pool.

Okay, so Syd and Z obviously had the same idea they did. The girls had left Bridge alone at the campsite, claiming they were going for a walk. They hadn’t bothered to tell him where they were going, so when Sky suggested they try to find the waterfall, Bridge had pounced on the idea.

His breath caught in his throat when Syd resurfaced. Her hair was straight from the pull of the water and plastered over her shoulders and back. And her idea of a bathing suit was less than underwear. Dear God… so Bridge was right about the physical part of the attraction. A person would have to be blind to not acknowledge she was gorgeous—curves in all the right places, smooth, tan skin… much better than the starved supermodel look. He’d always appreciated a girl that didn’t look like she’d break if he so much as touched her. Syd fit that bill perfectly.

Snatches of their conversation reached his ears. “He probably hates me now,” Syd replied to something that Z said.

“He’ll get over it,” Z said. “Didn’t you say it was great sex?”

That much was right. He didn’t remember much about last night, but what he did remember had been amazing. But was that enough?

Was the attraction purely physical? He’d always looked at Syd as a younger sister—someone who needed protection. She didn’t need his protection, as she was more than capable of taking care of herself, but did that overprotective-ness have something to do with the fact that she was petite and blonde and a target for predators? She was always cheerful and, certainly, a rich Daddy’s girl, but there was also a part of her easily hurt.

Maybe he should just go the normal route and ask her to dinner so that they could get to know each other before deciding on the declarations of love.

Bridge poked him in the middle of the back.

Sky snapped to attention and they made their way back up the small footpath to main trail. “You can’t deny anything now,” Bridge commented as they made their way back towards the main campgrounds of the park.

“Shut-up,” Sky grumbled.

“She likes Bronley Hale—he’s got a new movie coming out next weekend.”

“Bridge—“

“Definitely take her to that Italian restaurant downtown.”

“Bridge!” Sky yelled, getting his friend’s attention. “How do you know all this?”

Bridge tapped his ear. “I listen.” He paused. “Z likes Chinese food and cookie dough ice cream and she liked old kung fu movies better than the more recent stuff and one time she said she wanted to go overseas and visit Japan and—“

“I get the point,” Sky cut him off.

“Are you going to do it?” Bridge was suddenly beginning to resemble an over-eager puppy.

“Worry about your own love life,” Sky retorted. “Which should actually be existent since you just rattled off a monologue about what Z likes.”

“Hey, none of that,” Bridge said, striding off down the trail.

Sky just grinned and jogged to catch up with him.

- - - - - - -

The rain had started that afternoon and hadn’t let up into the evening. Sky sighed. He’d hoped to ask Syd to come on a walk with him, so they could talk about some things, but that plan had been shot down. He idly stared at the cards in his hand. They had been playing poker until the girls decided they needed a bathroom break—and since girls did things like that in groups, Z and Syd had pulled on some rain gear and headed out. Now he was stuck with Bridge. The pool for this game included a few bags of chips, a Hershey’s bar, two comic books, some butterfly hairclips, a lighter and, for whatever reason, someone’s morpher.

“Problems?” Bridge asked, gathering up the cards and shuffling them. He was surprisingly nimble with shuffling the cards, in spite of the leather gloves.

“This rain, for starters,” he replied.

“Kissing in the rain,” the Blue Ranger said in a sing-song voice. “It’s supposed to be really romantic!” He fluttered his eyelashes.

“Stop smoking whatever it is you’re smoking.”

“We’re back!”

Sky inwardly cursed at the sound of Z’s voice. The shelter door banged open and the girls trudged in, shedding ponchos and wet sneakers as they came. Bridge popped up from the table inside the shelter. “Hey, Z,” he said. “What were those CDs you wanted me to listen to?”

Captain Obvious strikes again. Sky wanted to hiss at him to shut-up, but Z agreed cheerily to his request and they huddled in one corner of the shelter. Z started digging through her bag and extracted a CD case stuffed to the brim. No choice now. With friends like Bridge, he was really starting to think that he didn’t need enemies.

Syd had stopped by the table, looking at him warily. He took a deep breath. “Can we talk?” he asked softly, sure that Bridge and Z heard him, but were pretending to be engrossed in the CDs.

“Sure,” she replied softly, the usual traces of arrogance gone.

Sky pushed opened the door to the shelter and they went outside, standing under the overhang. The gesture was pointless in reality—the walls were screened, meaning that Bridge and Z could hear every word they said, but it made an attempt at privacy. Maybe they actually would listen to CDs and not eavesdrop.

“Look,” Syd laid a hand on his arm. “I’m really sorry about last night.” She took a shaky breath. “I just wanted you to stop treating me like your little sister.”

He blinked. “Little sister?”

She let out a short, mournful laugh. “You do.” She shook her head, blue eyes piercing into him. “I don’t need protection.”

“I know,” he said automatically. “And that whole thing… it’s not you. It’s me.” He raked a hand through his hair.

She didn’t reply, but he could still feel her gaze on him. The rain pattered on the metal roof of the shelter and splattered into the puddles on the road. The precipitation actually cooled off the hot California summer day, making it bearable. In the distance, he could hear the sounds of camp—cars, people talking, crashes—but his own heartbeat pounded in his ears. He wasn’t mad about last night—not anymore. How could he be mad about great sex and a woman who was more than he’d ever imagined in his wildest dreams?

“So,” Syd said, breaking the silence. “Was last night good?”

He fought back a laugh. “Last night was great,” he replied seriously.

“Are you mad?”

“Not anymore. I just wish you’d gone about this the normal way—and not the route of getting me drunk off my ass.” He paused. “Although, shouldn’t I be trying to get you drunk?”

Syd laughed. “You need an engraved invitation?”

He gently pushed her hair back from her face, tucking it behind her ear. “Let’s do this the normal way from now on,” he said softly. “Dinner and a movie? Next Friday?”

She nodded. “I’d like that.”

The rain began to pound down harder. He gently took her hand and pulled her out from under the overhang.

“Sky!” she protested. “We’ll get soaked.”

“So?”

She allowed him to pull her into the middle of their campsite. He ran his hands through her wet curls and leaned down, touching his lips to hers. The kisses from last night had been raw and hungry, but this was soft and sweet, an apology and a beginning. She responded, her hands resting on his chest, palms hot on his skin.

He pulled back for a moment, gazing at the smile on her face and the light in her eyes. This felt right. For the first time in his life, he felt content. He wasn’t searching. For so long, and with so many girlfriends, he’d been searching for something and here it was. She wasn’t just the spoiled Daddy’s girl who happened to be able to kick some serious ass. She was…

Syd initiated the next kiss and he let her. She tasted like… everything he’d ever wanted.

A catcall from the shelter interrupted the moment. He gently broke the kiss with Syd and looked up to see Z ducking back down. He would never hear the end of this.

- - - - -

“You can’t tell me the camping trip was a total waste of time,” Z said early the next week. She punched a few buttons on the food replicator savagely, obviously forcing it to give her what she wanted. The thing was notorious for giving people a similar food, but not the exact food they’d wanted.

“If I recall correctly,” Sky said, keeping his gaze fixed on his book, “I’m still not speaking to you.”

“Are you still holding a grudge about the camping trip?” Bridge asked, looking up from the floor, where he tinkered with a controller board on the coffee table.

“Not about the camping trip,” he replied to his roommate. “More about her public relations announcement that she let slip to the gossipmongers on the C-Squad.”

“Could be worse. They think you guys are a cute couple.”

“We haven’t even gone on the date yet.”

“You think they care?”

Sky just went back to his book. In contrast to popular belief, he did read something other than the SPD Handbook. He just didn’t make a big deal out of it.

The doors to the Common Room hissed open. He looked up idly to see Syd walking into the room. She saw him and a grin split her face. She bounced over to him and plunked herself on the couch next to him. “What are you reading?” she asked.

He caught Bridge make a face at Z out of his peripheral vision. Dear God, those two were going to end up hosting a late-night talk show where they did nothing but spread rumors. He told Syd the title and the author, and she managed to wiggle her way under his arm, so that his arm was around her shoulders. Okay, so the public displays of affection would take some getting used to. He gently played with the ends of one of her curls.

“So was the camping trip a waste of time?” Z needled.

“I guess not,” Sky conceded.

“Because you’re getting laid!” Bridge squeaked.

“You’re dead,” Sky declared, standing up and chasing Bridge out of the Common Room.

He wasn’t a magician. He couldn’t see the future of any relationship, but, this time, he was willing to try. Could they come together on common ground? Perhaps. A lifetime or a day, he didn’t know, but that was the future, and every moment spent worrying about the future took a moment away from the present. 

The End

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