Kael sneers. “Sure. It’s my fault.”
The wordfaultsnaps something, and suddenly I’m back at Query, listening to Chase stammer about how my career caving in wasn’t really on him.
“We never should’ve gone hiking,” I snap. “I told you we should turn back.”
“What?” he huffs.
“So like me to cozy up to another self-destructive trainwreck.”
Kael presses a hand to his chest. “Forgive me for injecting one ounce of fun into your miserable ‘future-focused’ life.”
I don’t engage with that, but one joyless syllable scrapes out of me. “And for five hundred dollars,” I add. “Hell of a bargain.”
“Nobody knew a wildfire would spring up miles away!”
The magnetic artist is gone, replaced by someone reckless enough to get me stranded and too proud to admit it.
“You’re self-indulgent, impulsive, and irresponsible,” I shout.
“You’re selfish, boring, and exactly what I thought you’d be,” he fires back.
Without another word, he storms off down the trail toward the fieldhouse. A bad choice, given the main road is our best shot at being seen. Yet there he goes, stomping away from the obvious path because his feelings are hurt.
“Where are you going?” I call, jogging to catch up.
“Fire’s north,” Kael says, stabbing a finger across the lake. “You go that direction. I’m going south.”
“We should walk down the road.”
“I’m getting water,” he snaps, not slowing. “Maybe there’s someone at the fieldhouse. And who knows how long we’ll be out here? I’m not about to die of dehydration.”
“No, we’re about to die in a fire,” I mutter. “Though water’s actually a good idea, with the parking lot empty, I doubt—” Fighting about logistics won’t help. “Fine. Go and get water. Great. Then can we please try the road? At least there’s a chance someone will see us.”
“That’s literally what I’m doing. So you’re… following me?”
“I’m saying you had a good idea, and I’m improving it,” I tell him. “We’re riffing. Yes-and-ing.”
His eyes go wide, and he actually recoils.
“Oh God,” he groans. “You do improv. And I thought you couldn’t get any worse.”
“I don’tdoimprov!” I protest. “Ididimprov. Once. At an offsite.”
It was fun. Useful, even.
“If you weren’t such an asshole, someone might feel sorry for you,” he mutters.
“And if you weren’t so careless, we might not be here at all.” My anger burns out on the last word, memory flickering back to me literally tripping over him on the trail. Neither of us asked for this. “Like it or not, we’re in this together.”
Kael pauses, thumb and forefinger pressing his chin like he’s giving it serious thought. He looks ridiculously dramatic. Ridiculously handsome. It’s ridiculously annoying that I notice.
Then he delivers his verdict with one word.
“Not.”
CHAPTER 9
KAEL
