Page 24
Xx,
Oliver
Attached article
Demystifying procrastination: The benefits of knowing when to push to tomorrow what you could potentially do today
Chapter Ten
CAN’T STOP LOVING YOU
Oliver
“I’m Oliver Reynolds.”
I want to take my name back as soon as it leaves my mouth. I can pinpoint the moment understanding sinks into Charlee’s brain. I see it in the way she grips the edge of the table as if she needs to hold herself up, her gaze fixed on me, full of questions I don’t have the answers to.
Fuck, this is way harder than I thought it’d be. I expected her to be mad, to be shocked, I guess, and maybe resent me too, but I didn’t expect the fury unfolding in her eyes. Didn’t expect to watch her regain her composure two seconds later and put on an unreadable mask, lips sealed, shoulders squared, no emotion but utter disdain pouring out of her.
The switch catches me off guard, and I back up a step, lowering my gaze to my fingers nervously wrinkling the hem of my shirt.
Even like that, even with her hating me, she’s still the most beautiful woman I have ever seen, and my heart gallops faster than a racehorse on derby day, aching to make things right between us.
Nails clicking on the table pulls me out of my stupor, and I turn my head toward the sound, finding Donna watching me intently with one eyebrow up.
“Yes, so, as I was saying,” I rasp, “we’re going to start with wilderness and survival skills. Nothing too fancy, just 101 knowledge.” I swallow, but my mouth is so dry, it feels like sand going down my throat. I grab the glass sitting next to me and drain it.
“Are you okay, man?” Trevor asks and turns to Donna. “Is he really the best reporter you have?”
God, this guy isn’t helping either. His whole attitude of feeling like he’s above everybody in this room is getting to me. I want to punch him square in his smug face.
“Yes, sorry.” I plaster a smile on my face before Donna can answer. “I was just going over everything in my head so I don’t forget anything. Wouldn’t want you to get eaten by bears or something.”
A few chuckles echo in the room. I risk a look at Charlee, who remains as stoic as a rock.
“So let’s start with the ten golden rules of hiking. Number one: research your routes in advance.”
For the next hour or so, I cover all the safety bases, from food essentials to appropriate gear and what to do in case of bad weather. The familiar rhythm of my explanations eclipses my worries and almost succeeds in helping me forget who’s in the audience. Almost.
Toward the end, tour guide Reece Marven from the Gitga’at First Nation steps in to give the crew sensitivity training on how to respectfully live on their land.
I can’t help but look at Charlee from time to time and notice she hardly writes down anything I say. I’m not surprised. Most of this she already learned from me. How many times did I write to her and tell her everything I knew? I’m sure it feels as much as a déjà vu for her as it does for me. But when I glance at her, she never raises her eyes to mine. She doesn’t move or let one shred of emotion past the iron wall she erected in front of herself.
“Thank you, Reece,” I tell the man as he concludes his presentation. “What I want you folks to remember from this training is simple.” I raise my fingers and start ticking them off one by one. “Pay attention to river torrents, always stay together, and never, ever interact with wildlife. This is the most important one of all and the one that will keep you and your teammates the safest.”
“Got it, champ,” Trevor says, saluting me. “I think we’re good for today. We should start to head north so we can avoid traffic and arrive before it gets dark outside.”
I nod. “That’s probably wise. I’ll be right over.”
I look at Charlee, who’s already packing her things, ready to fly out of the room. What do I do? At some point, she’s gonna have to talk to me, right? Whatever happened five years ago, we’ll talk about it and realize it was just a misunderstanding. If she ever agrees to listen to me . . .
Okay, Oli. No better time than the present.
I square my shoulders and force myself to move forward, one foot in front of the other. Once I’m just a few short feet away from her, I stop and clear my throat. Her eyes shoot to me like daggers. Great start. I haven’t opened my mouth yet.
“Can I talk to you for a moment?”
“Oh, so now you want to talk?” she quips. “No, thank you.”
