You felt Dutch’s hand on your back, pushing you and John inside the small tent on the camp border. “Don’t think you can get out before the two of you finally get along!” Dutch yelled.

A loud sigh escaped John’s lips, his hands rubbing over his scruffy beard. “Sucks to be us,” he commented. — For once you could agree with him. It was called.

You two simply couldn’t stand each other. Everyone in the gang knew you two disliked each other. And of course, took advantage of that.