How to Channel Your Inner Tennis Champ…
Arabella
I stand perfectly still,doing my best imitation of someone who is actually brave while I wait for his answer. My heart fills with fear for both possible reactions. Because hiking through the night in the jungle is every bit as bad an option as giving up. Worse, even, because it's horribly dangerous. But the truth is, if I fail at this, I might as well give up because I’ll have to go back to my little boxed-in existence, and I know if I do, I'll die there anyway. So, I might as well die out here instead.
I stare into his eyes—the same eyes that only yesterday gazed at me lovingly and caused my stomach to do happy little flips. But now they’re cold and hard and I hate them just like I hate the rest of him.
And I loathe the fact that I need him to get me through this, but I do. “Look, I don't have a lot of time here, so make up your mind. Are you going to man up and do what you need to do, or quit like a little bitch?” I shrug. “I know what Bear Grylls would do, but, hey, you do you.”
Will shakes his head and rolls his eyes. “Did you really think that was going to work? You could just compare me to that phony, and I’d come along on this death march to prove I'm better than him? You really must think I'm stupid.”
“Whatever, dude. Only one of you has your own line of camping equipment. Just sayin’.” Okay, I know I'm pushing it now, but I really do need him to come along and it's not exactly like we’re in a place in our relationship where I can appeal to his sense of sympathy. Where compassion will fail, you need to attack the ego. It's negotiations 101, taught to me by my big brother, Arthur. And now I walk away and give him time to say yes.
I make my way into the bush, find a bit of spongy moss, then have a quick pee. That’s right, I can openly admit to having bodily functions now. Yay, me. Taking a deep breath, I strut back to the raft, head held high. Giving him an icy stare, I say, “Well? Are you coming with me or not?”
“I’m going with you,” he says, pointing a finger at me while he scowls. “But not because I want to help you or because I give a shit about besting that goofball. It's because if I don’t, the entire world will blame me for letting you get yourself killed out there.”
“I really couldn’t care less why you come, as long as we leave now,” I say, walking over to the tree and trying to untie the knot. It’s too tight and it won’t budge. Damn delicate fingers.
He walks over, brushes my fingers out of the way, then unties it one-handed. What a show-off with his stupid manly hands.
“Let’s be clear about one thing.” He leans in and lowers his tone. “Don’t go fooling yourself into thinking this is your opportunity to get back together, because whatever we had is over.Finished. Never going to happen again.”
“Pfffft.Don't flatter yourself. I wouldn't sleep with you again if all the dildos in the world suddenly disappeared.” Oh my, I’m getting good at the tough talk, no?
He gives me a nasty grin. “Perfect. Because the only thing I want from you is to get your sorry arse over that finish line in time so I get paid.”
“Fine by me. Just make sure you walk ahead so I don’t have to look at your smug, stupid face again.” I take a couple of steps toward the raft and crouch down in front of it.
“Get on,” Will says. “There's no way you can push this thing into the water.”
“Watch me,” I say, straining as hard as I can. It doesn't budge and Will chuckles, bringing out a fury in me I didn't realize I had. I grunt like Serena Williams hitting a forehand, while I give another big shove. The raft starts to move and I hop on, then catch my balance and kneel down with my hand on the rudder. “Are you coming, Wilma?”
He scrambles down the hill, then wades into the water and manages to climb on before it’s too late. I turn my face toward the opposite shore, smiling on the inside at the fact that I've managed to shock him.
“That was actually pretty impressive,” he says quietly.
My ridiculous heart jumps at the thought of impressing him, but on the outside, I remain cool. “Thanks, but I'm really not looking for your approval.”
* * *
The sun went down two hours ago, and in that time, I've learned that hiking through the jungle at night is not only a terrible idea, it's also disgusting and terrifying. Did you know that there actually are giant rats out here? It's true. I thought Will was just trying to scare me when he mentioned them on our first day out here. But they’re real. Very freaking real, and they’re the size of a bloody house cat. Apparently, they also like to come out at night to hunt for food. As do a shit ton of bats. There are plenty of them out swooping around.
We’re both wearing the headlamps, which carry with them the unfortunate side effect of attracting swarms of moths. So, since it got dark, I'm swatting behemoth moths as they try to land on my face while I simultaneously duck from the bats and watch for rats.
Oh, wow! That last moth was easily the size of a not-so-small bird. “Motherfucker,” I mutter, flinching and flailing my arms to hold them back. “Just fuck off already. That’smyheadlamp.”
Will is moving fast through the forest, slicing a path for us with his machete while I try to keep up. I'm panting so hard, my lungs ache. I feel weak and thirsty and exhausted, and to be honest, I just want to lay down right here and sleep for a couple of days. We've been walking for ten hours now with only two short breaks to eat, drink water, and rest—both of which have been done in a silent but simmering rage.
I haven’t checked yet, but I already know my ankles are cut again and each step feels like someone’s rubbing sandpaper against an open wound. But I won't stop. I can't. I force my feet to keep going, focusing on the lifetime of respect I'm earning one meter at a time. An owl hoots in a tree nearby and I flinch, my heart racing even faster.
Will is far ahead now, hurrying along like he can’t get away from me fast enough, which is fine by me. We come to the bottom of another steep hill. God, no. No more hills, please. Unless they’re down.
Of course, he scrambles up it quickly and with ease, and even though I want to slump down onto the ground and have a cry, I force myself to catch up. He stops at the top, shining his light down while I climb. He reaches a hand down to help me, but I don't take it.
“Suit yourself, Your Highness.”
“I intend to,” I quip.
