Theyareloud. Their voices carry in the arid desert air. Laughter and screams pierce the distance as I sit with my glass of wine and paperback copy ofThe Secret Garden. I always pick a childhood book for these trips—to transport me back to my old bedroom with the star reading light, a papier-mâché contraption that my mom made and hung over my bed for my late-night reading habits.
I read the same paragraph about Colin’s hump for the third time when a glowing light catches my eye. It gets closer and I realize it’s Ellis holding a lantern.
“Evenin’,” he says in a funny little drawl.
“Evenin’.” I watch as he approaches me, a little hop in his step. So excited to see me—and a part of me crumbles.
“Sorry to interrupt,” he says. “Is this a good time?”
“Of course.”
“We have so much booze and food and it’s getting late so…” He waggles his eyebrows. “Would you like to join us?”
It feels surly to say no. And there’s no denying that it’s been near torture sitting here mere steps away from a man I have spent a decade waiting for.
“What kind of wine do you have?” But I’m already putting my book down and getting up.
He shrugs. “Sorry, I am the least helpful person about alcohol of any sort. I drink what is given to me. But I know we’ve got some fancy assholes in our office, and they would not be serving you subpar stuff. Especially if Daniel’s around.”
I tuck that little bit of info away.Fellow wine slut.
A few minutes later, I’m bundled up in a fleece jacket I stole from an ex-boyfriend in Chile, and wearing a headlamp. The thing about fateds is that they will somehow fall in love with you despite your very unsexy outfit. I do, however, put on some tinted lip gloss and a swipe of blush. I’m not delusional.
We start the walk down to their camp together, and Ellis asks, “The Secret Garden, huh?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“Mary, Mary, quite contrary.” He keeps the lantern held between us even though I can see perfectly fine with my headlamp. The desert is almost pitch-black, but the stars are scattered and give off a diffusion of light that reminds me of those stickers kids used to put on their ceilings.
A smile hitches on my lips. “Wow, you being familiar with the works of Frances Hodgson Burnett wasn’t on my bingo card.”
“I have an older sister, remember?” The lantern swings between us, our shadows long and entwined. “I know all the greatest hits. The BSC,The Little Princess, Margaret and her period, being Team Jacob, and knowing firmly that I, too, would be divergent.”
“Did you actually read them, though?”
He stops walking, and his expression is one of mock indignation. “Did Ireadthem? No, I just burned them in a fire as I popped wheelies around the raging flames.”
I burst out laughing. “Okay, okay! You were ‘not like all the other boys.’ ”
“Nah, I was. I was embarrassed about reading them so I did it in secret. But I was just a voracious reader in general. Still am, I guess.”
I am not Rory Gilmore, and this kid is not going to seduce me with dog-eared copies of Bukowski. He willnot. There is a grown man at the end of this path who enjoys good wine and is handsome in a way that makes me literally weak-kneed. The stars remind me to stay on course.
The camp is still rowdy. People are dancing, mostly swaying, to some Pearl Jam. A few are piled up on a blanket, like teenagers giggling at a slumber party, staring at the stars.
Daniel’s sitting on a literal log playing a literal guitar.
Part of me wonders if, somehow, I got secondhand high. It’s hard to explain, but this entire scene is just soFraggle Rock. Daniel spots us first, and grins. “Ah, you managed to woo her back here.”
This reminds me of his earlier, easy comment about me being Ellis’s girlfriend. “No wooing necessary,” I say. Also easily. My body moves just the slightest bit away from Ellis, and I snap off my headlamp.
“Welcome to day one of…this,” Daniel says with a grimace. “We’re usually a really proper bunch.”
“This actually looks extremely peaceful for a drunk work retreat.” There are two men attempting to balance lightweight tent poles in their palms.
Ellis and Daniel exchange glances.
“What?” I ask.
