Jerica endured Harold's stories longer than she expected. His loud laughter and exaggerated hand gestures painted vivid, if not entirely believable, pictures of his past escapades. But her attention drifted. Every now and then, her gaze would wander back to Jared, who seemed perfectly at ease in his element, chatting animatedly with the group. The firelight flickered across his face, highlighting the sharp angles of his jaw and the curve of his lips.
Jerica sighed and finally decided she'd had enough. Rising from her seat, she slipped away from the group, making her way toward Lila's tent. The chill of the night seeped through her thin jacket, and as she walked, she glanced around for Jared. Where was he? His absence nagged at her, though she'd never admit it.
Reaching his tent, she peeked inside, expecting to find him sprawled out, his shirt half-buttoned as usual. But the tent was empty, eerily neat, as if he hadn't been there at all.
