NATALIE SCATORCCIO | YELLOWJACKETS

The metal clicked sharply as Natalie checked the chamber again, like the sound alone could guarantee something would finally go right out here. You watched from where you sat on the fallen log, arms folded tight across your chest, like you could hold yourself together if you squeezed hard enough.

“Do you have to do that so loudly?” you asked.

Natalie didn’t look up. “It’s a gun. It’s kind of its whole personality.”

“I mean the dramatic part,” you said. “You’re making it sound like you’re about to march into battle.”

She snorted under her breath, adjusting her grip. “Pretty sure hunting is the battle.” “Against what? A deer with emotional issues?”

That got her to glance over at you, one eyebrow lifting just slightly. “You volunteering to go instead?”

You didn’t even hesitate. “No.”

“Yeah,” she said, nodding once, like that settled it. “Didn’t think so.”

The quiet that followed wasn’t uncomfortable, exactly. It just... stretched. Long and thin, like something about to snap.

You shifted, kicking lightly at the dirt. “You don’t have to go right now.”

Natalie went back to the gun, but slower this time. “Kind of do.”

“It’s still summer,” you said quickly. “There’s berries. And... stuff.”

“‘Stuff,’” she echoed, almost smiling.

“You know what I mean.”

“Yeah,” she said, softer now. “I do.”

Another click. Another check.

You hated that sound.

“I just think,” you started, then stopped, then tried again, “that maybe you could... not rush off every time. Like—”

“Like what?” she asked, finally looking at you properly.

And that was the problem, really. The way she looked at you. Like she was actually listening.

You faltered. “Like you could stay.”

“For what?” she asked, but there wasn’t any bite in it.

You gestured vaguely between the two of you. “For... this.”

Natalie’s mouth twitched. “This is you sitting there judging my gun technique.”

“I am not judging—”

“You literally called it dramatic.”

“Because it is!” you shot back, standing up now, brushing dirt off your hands as you walked over to her. “You’re like—” you made a vague, sweeping motion, “—some kind of wilderness action hero.”

“Wow,” she said dryly. “High praise.”

“I’m serious,” you insisted, stopping just in front of her. “You don’t have to go every time someone says ‘we need food.’ Other people exist.”

“Not ones who can actually hit anything,” she said.

“That’s not true.”

She gave you a look.

“Okay,” you admitted, “it’s a little true.”

Natalie huffed out a quiet laugh, shaking her head. “Look, I’ll be back before dark.”

“That’s not the point.”

“Then what is?”

You hesitated, the words sitting heavy on your tongue.

It would’ve been easier to joke again. To deflect. That’s what you usually did. But instead, you just said it: “I don’t like it when you’re gone.”

The air shifted.

Natalie stilled, the gun lowering just slightly in her hands.

“...Why?” she asked, quieter now.

You shrugged, suddenly very interested in a loose thread on your sleeve. “It’s just... boring.”

“Boring,” she repeated.

“Yeah,” you said quickly. “And—” you added, like it was an afterthought, “—lonely.”

That did it.

Something in her expression softened, just a fraction. Enough that you noticed. You stepped a little closer, close enough to catch the faint scent of her—something old and sweet underneath the smoke and dirt. Like a ghost of perfume she hadn’t meant to bring out here.

“You smell great for a hunter, by the way,” you said, tilting your head slightly. “I thought they were supposed to smell like sweat and shit.”

Natalie blinked. “Wow. Thank you. That’s—really flattering.”

“I’m just saying,” you went on, a hint of a grin tugging at your mouth, “you’re kind of ruining the brand.”

“Yeah, I’ll try to be more disgusting next time.”

“Please don’t.”

You were close now. Closer than you’d been before without it being an accident.

She didn’t move.

Neither did you. And then, before you could overthink it, you leaned in—just slightly—and pressed a long, soft kiss to the side of her neck.

It wasn’t dramatic. It wasn’t even that passionate.

But it was enough.

Natalie froze.

Completely.

The gun in her hands might as well have turned into stone for how still she went. You pulled back just enough to see her face.

“...You okay?” you asked, trying—and failing—to sound casual.

She swallowed.

“Yeah,” she said, but her voice came out thinner than usual. “Yeah, I’m—”

She stopped, exhaled sharply, then tried again.

“Well,” she said, shifting her weight like she suddenly didn’t know what to do with herself, “I— I.. I can actually... stay. For a little while longer.”

You blinked. “Oh?”

“Yeah,” she nodded quickly. “Just, uh—”

Her eyes flicked to you, then away, like looking too long might give something away.

“Just keep doing that.”

You raised an eyebrow, folding your arms like you had no idea what she meant. “Doing what?”

Natalie let out a quiet, frustrated laugh, dragging a hand through her hair. “You know what,” she muttered.

“Hmm,” you said, stepping closer again, just enough to make her breath hitch. “Not sure I do.” She looked at you then. Really looked.

And whatever she saw made her shoulders drop, just slightly. Like she was giving in to something she’d already lost a fight against.

“Neck thing,” she said, almost under her breath. “Do the neck thing.”

You smiled—soft, but victorious.

“Gladly.”