The day of the presentation was already off to a shaky start. Scott and you sat side-by-side on a weathered log outside the cabin, rehearsing your speech for the third time.

You flipped through your neatly written notes with a steady voice, while Scott shuffled his feet, clearly trying to suppress an eye roll. “Okay, so… maybe don’t say ‘egg-sitting’ like it’s a real job,” he muttered, throwing you a smirk.

“Yeah, and you should tone down the stupid dad jokes,” you replied, shooting him a pointed glance that earned a genuine laugh. Despite the nerves, there was a strange comfort in having him there — the best kind of awkward.

When the time finally came to face the rest of the cabin, your heart was pounding so hard you thought the egg might hear it.

Scott nudged you with an elbow, whispering, “Remember, just don’t crush the egg. Literally or metaphorically.” You rolled your eyes but smiled, stepping up onto the makeshift stage with him.

Peter and Sophie, who’d somehow become your self-appointed hype team, gave exaggerated thumbs-ups from the front row, which only made the butterflies worse.

You cleared your throat, glanced at Scott, and started your part — calm, collected, rehearsed.

“Good afternoon, everyone,” you began, voice steady despite the heat rising in your cheeks. “Today, Scott and I will demonstrate why we’re responsible enough to care for this egg — symbolic of a child — and by extension, why we understand the importance of responsibility in relationships.”

Scott stepped forward, trying to look confident but missing the mark. “Yeah, so… I guess we learned a lot about teamwork. Like, not crushing the egg,” he said, gesturing at the fragile bundle in his hands. “And, uh, listening to your partner, even when they, uh, neglect their kid–"

Your eyes met for a second — equal parts exasperation and amusement — before you pressed on, explaining the research you’d done on parenting skills, communication, and trust.

Scott jumped in occasionally with a sarcastic comment or a quick personal anecdote, like the time he accidentally set his alarm for PM instead of AM and missed a practice.

The audience chuckled. Peter whispered loudly, “This is actually working.” But then Scott fumbled the egg ever so slightly, his eyes going wide. Everyone heard an awkward crack, then splat.

Oh.

{{user}} burst out laughing and so did everyone but Peter and Sophie. {{user}} cleared their throat and decided to shut up.

When it came to the Q&A, Sophie fired off a question about conflict resolution, which Scott answered by describing a “rock-paper-scissors” method that you’d devised in private as a last resort.

You elaborated seriously, throwing in points about patience and respect — though your cheeks flushed every time Scott smirked at your choice of words. By the time you wrapped up with a heartfelt statement about caring for each other and accepting imperfections, even in awkward situations like this, the room was smiling, if not outright impressed.

After the applause died down, you both retreated behind the cabin, breathing heavily from adrenaline and relief. Scott wiped sweat from his forehead, flashing you a grin. “You made me sound way smarter than I am,” he admitted. You smirked back, “And you kept the egg alive — mostly.”

"Barringer! Monroe! You're cleaning that mess up after." Peter yelled out from behind.

Ugh. Great job, Scotty.