“Fight him.”
“Great. While you fight him, I’ll be running away. Much faster than you.” She elbowed my arm. “Stop laughing.”
“Stop being a baby. You need to eat something so we can have this out. You’re scarier than a bear right now.”
“I don’t want to talk to you right now. I need to cool off without you annoying me. I’m too…something.”
“Not angry, though, right?”
“Nope.”
“That’s good news.”
“Good night, Fabio. Don’t come crawling to me if a bear does come.”
“Ditto. Sweet dreams, Princess.”
31
Tessa
If I lay very still, I could make out the smell of Logan’s peanut butter sandwich lingering in the air, tantalizing my taste buds. Along with probably all the bears within a ten-mile radius. I would have clawed his eyes out for that sandwich if it had taken him any longer to eat. I probably would have felt better if I had eaten something, but then Logan would have made me talk, and I didn’t feel like talking yet. Acting like a wounded toddler seemed a much better option.
I needed to sort a few things out in my mind.
My therapist would tell me I was masking my hurt with anger.
She would be right.
Anger, rejection, and frustration were coursing through my veins, but hurt is what fed the flame. How could I have a conversation tonight when my emotions were all over the place? It was my fault. I knew we had a bet on the line. I knew we had agreed we could both date other people. I knew all of this, but I let one important stupid emotion into the equation.
Hope.
I had begun to hope. Hope that things were different. Thathewas different. Hope that I could be that girl—thechosenone who would be enough to make a man want to change his ways. He had seemed sincere. Things between us had felt real to me. Up until Jen. And I hated that he could still almost make me laugh in this stupid tent when I felt so gutted.
I sighed and moved to lie on my back, my shoulder brushing against Logan, who was sleeping peacefully on his back. I fully intended to edge away and turn again to my side until I felt how warm he was. Any dream I had of sleeping in this tent had gone away about the time my feet began to glaciate. Every piece of warm clothing I had packed was on my body, my sleeping bag was zipped around my chin, and my teeth were still chattering. I pulled my phone from my sweatshirt pocket and checked the time. 2 am.
Logan’s heat began inching its way across my shoulder, warming me the smallest fraction. A girl could lean into that so easily. His breathing was slow and even. He probably wouldn’t even know if I stole a bit of his body heat.
No.
Maybe I could stamp my icy feet over his legs. Kill two birds with one stone—part heat, part revenge.
No. He would definitely get the wrong idea.
Just the arm then, for a minute. Ever so slightly, I rolled over to face him, careful not to jostle him. It was almost pitch black in the tent, but I could make out his long shape lying so close to me. His right arm was flung across his face, his left leg completely out of his bag, and he was still an oven. I would kill for that kind of body heating system.
I wriggled my toes inside my socks to make sure they were still working properly, then inched my right foot closer to his leg. I got as close to his foot as I could and let it sit there, praying some heat would transfer, but I was not close enough. My hands clenched with irrational irritability. Or perhaps it was rational. I was tired. Starving. A little twitchy. And I had a big target for my anger.
Yes, anger.
Earlier I had tried to place the blame for Logan’s behavior on myself. For letting myself hope, for getting involved in the first place. Maybe there was some truth to that, but Logan definitely shared the blame. He had kissed me multiple times, told me things, looked at me…that way. No. Right now, I was a lot of emotions, but first and foremost, I was most definitely angry at him.
Looks like we were going with revenge.
Yanking my sock off, I stamped my right foot on Logan’s leg, almost sighing with relief at the immediate contact of heat.
Logan jerked awake, swearing and sitting up in confusion. In his movement, my foot fell off of his leg. I put it back.
