“Shit!” She’s up instantly, rubbing her eyes, raising her chin. Trying to pretend. “Where did you come from?”
I shrug. “Got here before you.”
“You can’t go creeping up on women like that! You could have given me a heart attack. What if I’d mistaken you for a wolf, or, or a grizzly bear, or a yeti, and gone haring off and fallen over in the dark and broken my leg!”
“See a lot of yetis in Scotland, do you?”
“I’m looking at one right now.”
That makes me laugh. “You were looking at quite a bit more of me earlier.”
Her expression crumples, and I worry she’ll start crying again, but instead she presses her fingers to her temples and looks away.
“I’m so sorry. I only wanted to have a look. Not like that! At the loch! The sun was coming up and I thought it would be so pretty and I— Are you laughing at me?”
“Ach, it’s alright, London. If I was that worried about being seen, I wouldn’t have stripped there in the first place, would I?” I sip my tea and lean back on one hand.
“I swear I have burned the sight from my memory. I remember nothing. Cross my heart and hope to die.”
I grunt, surprised by my own pang of disappointment.
The sky is washed in tones of purple and orange, the clouds streaking to hazy pink.
“Good of you,” I say, eventually.
“It’s gone. Forgotten. Penis. What penis?” Rowan claps a hand over her mouth. “Shit. Did I say that? I meant… Pennines. Yeah, those rugged Scottish mountains. Lovely.”
“The Pennines are in Northumberland.”
“And they arelovely.”
“Nice try, London.” I tip my head back. “I meant the lad, though. Kind of you to help him out like that.”
They staggered into the campsite long after I’d already settled my things. The young lad’s arms around her shoulder, limping slowly along. The mother and little girl following them behind. An unlikely group, but that’s hiking for you. The trail can forge the most surprising of bonds.
I looked at her and thought: strong. Managing the pack and half the weight of a full-grown man, when she’d clearly never walked further than her own back door before. Stubborn set to her eyes. I was… impressed.
“You sound surprised.”
“You didn’t seem like the type.”
“And why not?”
“Big city girl, aren’t you? London’s not exactly known for its kindness and community.”
“And you’re so warm and fuzzy?”
She unfurls a bit, uncurling from her ball. I make a conscious effort to keep my eyes on the setting sun, and not on the dip of her breasts inside her top, or on her cherry-pink lips, or the way her blue eyes glow in the reflected light.
“What do you have against London anyway?”
“Too busy. Too loud. Too crowded. Too unfriendly. Too big.” I tick the reasons off on my fingers one by one.
“Yeah, sure.” She waves a hand dismissively. “But think about the privacy, the freedom. You can be whoever you want and no one cares. Wear a tiara, play the banjo, put your shoes on backwards. No one gives a shit! No one even gives you a second glance. Total anonymity. And the culture, and the transport, and the cafes, and Hampstead Heath and Victoria Park, and wandering through London Fields with a flat white and a pastry. God, drinking wine on the canals, or the takeout. Whatever you want! The food, Angus. Think about the food. Anything, anytime, anywhere. It’s a miracle, that’s what it is.” She shakes her head. “Why am I bothering? I bet you’ve never even been.”
“I have actually,” I find myself confessing. “I lived there for a year.”
“You?” She stares at me as though I’ve grown a third head.
