“Why didn’t you eat?”
I let out a long exhale. “Today freaked me out,” I admit.
Maybe Ishouldn’tbe telling her this—but it’s the most honest thing I have right now. My instinct says Sadie is a safe place, despite the fact that she’s one of the inexperienced people out here who I feel like I let down today. It could have beenherwho tripped and almost fell over the edge.
Maybe that’s what’s freaking me out, if I’m even more honest with myself. It could have been Sadie, and it could have been worse. And it could have been my fault.
The fact that it terrifies me to think about Sadie falling over, specifically—that she’sdifferentsomehow, despite how I always try to be neutral and professional when it comes to the trekkers—only amplifies the fear that’s haunted me all day: that I’m failing at my job.
She’s quiet. I follow her gaze to a pair of butterflies out in the field.
“Yeah,” Sadie eventually says. “Me too.” She bites her lip, turning her hand over to examine her mismatched nail polish. “You know, I really thought I knew what to expect, coming out here. I did so much research—but some things just don’t translate well over the internet. All those pictures of nature, not one mention that it’ll be trying to kill you the whole time you’re out in it.”
I have to laugh. “Pretty sure that was in the fine print.”
Sadie grins. “Today wasn’t all bad, though,” she says, cutting a glance at me from under her long lashes. “Can we just rewind to this morning, back in the tent?”
I swallow. We’re already sitting closer than we really need to be, her legs angled and resting against mine—
I wish we were back in the tent, too. I wish we were someplace private.
“You’re welcome in my tent anytime, for the record,” she goes on.
My mind flashes immediately to the memory of being tangled withher this morning, and as much as this is new—dangerous—territory for me, I can’t deny it: I want to do it again.
“Even if it’s not raining?” I ask.
“Especiallyif it’s not raining,” she says, and I laugh. “My stuff is probably still drenched from your wet clothes.”
“Your stuff is probably still drenched from therainwe hiked through all morning,” I reply. “Not my fault at all.”
“Details, details.”
I reach out and run my fingers lightly over the splattered mud on her leggings. “They’ve got actual showers at this campsite, you know—if you haven’t seen them yet.”
“Are you implying I need one?” she says flirtatiously, her eyes flickering down to my hand before meeting mine again.
“Not implying,” I reply. “Flat-out suggesting.”
She swats my shoulder playfully. “You really know how to make a girl feel attractive.”
“Glad you got the message,” I say with a shrug. “Youareattractive.”
Sadie tenses beside me, the smallest, subtlest movement—she might not even be aware of it.
“My hair is full of dry shampoo,” she argues, “and the closest I’ve come to a shower is the lake yesterday.”
“And?” I reply.
“And I suspect I look like I’ve just been onNaked and Afraidand, like, totally disheveled. I promise I look better in my real life than I do out here.”
“Impossible,” I tell her. “And for the record, you don’t look nakedorafraid right now.”
She laughs. “I hide my fear well.”
“Really, though, Sadie.” I wait until she looks me straight in the eye before continuing. “You’re beautiful, even without all the makeupor whatever you’re used to. I’m sure you look amazing in your everyday life, too…but I need you to know that you look pretty damn attractive just as you are.”
She takes in what I’ve said, and I can tell by her expression—how her eyes linger on mine, vulnerable and unfiltered—that my words mean a lot. The next thing I know, her hand has found its way to mine where it still rests on her leg.
