“What did I do?”
“A minute ago, you were worried about my feet, but breaking my ribs is okay?”
“Fuck your ribs. Why are you so quick to assume it’s my fault?”
“Oh, please. It’s always the man’s fault.”
“Wow. Okay. Fuck the rest of you, too.”
Heath rubbed the sore spot on his side and glared. “Am I wrong?”
“Would you even believe me if I said you were?”
“Of course. I’m a perfectly rational adult.”
“You’re wrong.”
Heath scoffed, then jumped when Westin grabbed his bag from the back and hurled it onto the rocky dirt road.
“What the—My laptop is in there!”
“Get out.”
“What?”
Westin leaned in close enough that he could count the flecksof green in his golden-brown irises and smell the cinnamon on his breath.
“Get. Out.”
Heath blinked. “But what about my blisters?”
“I hope you get two per foot.”
“Evan—”
“Out.”
Heath sat motionless until the livid heat of Westin’s stare forced him to move. He climbed from the cart, slipping on the loose rocks along the steep hillside as he moved to gather his bag.
The moment he’d reached the back of the cart, Westin floored it, showering him in pebbles and dust as the cart shimmied, caught traction, and took off down the road.
Coughing, he brushed at his clothes and slung his bag over his shoulder, then promptly screamed and dropped it again at the sight of a massive lizard watching him from beneath the leaves of a large plant.
The reptile blinked at him slowly, one eye at a time, and then disappeared back into the foliage, where Heath heard it shuffling through the undergrowth. At least, he hoped that was what the shuffling was.
Keenly motivated, he averted his eyes, collected his bag a second time, and took off at a light jog.
nine
. . .
The quarter-mile trek was murder on his already aching body, but was admittedly a just punishment for running his mouth. It also gave him extra time to think and stew into an even thicker broth.
Christian had canceled their reservation. Yesterday. Was he truly surprised? Of course not. The inconsiderate ass hadn’t mentioned he’d run off with someone he’d only just met, either. Why would he bother checking with his old friend to let him know he’d be up shit creek upon arrival for the vacation they’d had planned for months?
No, the painful truth was Christian doubtlessly expected the news would send his foolish little friend slinking home to mope among his books and tubs of takeout. The idea of Heath going on the trip alone would be laughable. Even more painfully, Christian would have been entirely justified in his assumption. If it weren’t for Andres and Manuel, that’s exactly what he would have done.
Did that mean he was obligated to thank them and admit they’d been right? Oh, God. The humanity.
