What if I have an emotional breakdown and can’t call Abby?
What if I get really bad blisters and can’t walk?
What if I get really bad blisters and lose my bet with Thorn (and lose my coffee due to said bet)?
Drowning/falling off a cliff/twisting my ankle/pain & anguish of other types that I haven’t yet considered
BEARS (oh wait, just realized I already wrote that)
Good Things
Nice people
Zero regrets about bringing my own coffee
Caden isn’t here to see me struggling
Thorn—he’s kind of hard to read sometimes, but has been patient with me (mostly)
*It smelled surprisingly good in Thorn’s tent—my guess is laundry detergent & lingering smell of soap on his clothes (pine?)(I will never mock that cliché again)(at least it’s not sandalwood)
10SADIE
I’m going to need all the coffee in the world to get through this day.
Between my rude awakening in the middle of the night and the slab of rock underneath Thorn’s tent, I’m surprised I got any sleep at all.
Not to mention thedream.
It involved a certain wilderness guide, the two of us sharing a single sleeping bag, his skin like fire against mine and his breath hot in my ear as he whispered all manner of unmentionable things that make me blush even now—and in my dream, I was as loud as he was quiet, so loud I woke myself up in real life. Darkness instantly turned to dawn, and I was alone in this tent with my eyes wide open and my heart racing and the deep, deep fear that I’d made those noisesout loud, loud enough to wake up the entire camp.
The dream was so steamy I didn’t dare write about it in my new journal: some secrets are just too risky to put down on paper.
I’m in no danger of forgetting, though. I still see him—us—every time I close my eyes. I can practically feel Thorn’s hands on my body, his lips against mine, his…everything else.
The most surprising part? I wanted all of it back as soon as it was over.
To say it caught me off guard is an understatement.
Yeah, I’ve enjoyed chatting with Thorn and making him laugh. At the end of the day, though, the two of us couldn’t be any more different. Caden broke things off because we were “incompatible”—but I feel like any potential connection with Thorn would be testing the limits ofopposites attract.
He loves nature. I love how nature looks through panoramic windows, from giant plush armchairs in impeccably air-conditioned rooms.
He loves adventure. The most adventurous thing I’ve done before now is a ski trip up in Vermont—which taught me I’m terrible on the snow, but great at sipping cocoa beside a roaring fire.
He carries his entire world in a pack half the size of mine, while my gigantic one barely holds the essentials of my usual routine…if that.
Thorn and I are about as opposite as you get. There’s nowaywe’d work.
I admit he’s attractive. His hair, his smile, his voice—hislaugh. Anyone with common sense would be drawn to him!
But, again: there’s no way we’d work.
Right?
Even if, hypothetically, I found myself interested—and apparently Iam, at least on some subconscious dream-world level—I can’t imaginehewould be interested inme. He probably wants an outdoorsy type, someone who’s up for living minimally. Someone who doesn’t film vlog footage while wearing silk pajamas and then make the whole group late because she absolutelymustmake fancy coffeeor else. For example.
But what do I care what his type is? I couldn’t care less, honestly.
