Читать книгу Love without a Compass - Lindy Zart - Страница 10

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BEN

Duke Renner has never been much of a rule follower. Since he was in his mid-twenties, he’s run Sanders and Sisters, a small, but prestigious company that centers on marketing words to the right buyer. The company, run by two aging sisters and their brother, wasn’t much when Duke took it over, but he had the right amount of humor, bullheadedness, and charismatic personality to get his words noticed by the right people.

Inspirational quotes, greeting cards, business logos, makeup, clothing, and athletic apparel slogans—Sanders and Sisters handles that and more. Words are everything. They can be the difference between crying and laughter, a smile and a frown. Hope and giving up.

The Avery Scottam that Sanders and Sisters is familiar with doesn’t complain. She doesn’t have to, because everything is easy for her. Everyone wants to help her; I’ve even seen Duke fetch her tea as if it was his idea when she was the one who mentioned it. She writes some average saying a duck could think up, and her words are instantly sold. I wish Duke could see this Avery, and finally realize what I’ve known all along.

I tried to tell Duke, but he just thought I wanted to get her in bed and my sexual frustration was making me cantankerous. That was his word. Cantankerous. That wasn’t it at all. Avery says I’m not her type, but she’s not mine either. She is relentless in her pursuit of any and every client in sight. She outshines me, again and again. It isn’t coincidental. It’s personal, and I don’t know why.

My stomach growls, or maybe that’s just me. It does it again, confirming that it’s my stomach and it wants food.

The last time I ate was at six this morning, and it’s now early afternoon. Too long ago. Except for some sips of water and a piece of jerky each, Avery and I haven’t had any real sustenance. We were told to ration what we were given, and I guess they thought bribing us with a gourmet meal tonight at the lodge would make it okay. I guess they were right, because here we are. This survivalist bullshit is a joke, and we’re the ones being laughed at.

I glance over my shoulder to Avery. She’s unusually quiet—not that I’m not enjoying it. I’m generally a nice guy, but once someone deceives me, I’m done with them. Avery is the queen of deception. Sweat glistens on her sun-pink skin and a layer of grime covers the outfit I’m sure she bought specifically for today. She lifts an eyebrow when I don’t immediately look away and shifts her eyes forward. I turn my head back around and focus on the path.

I’ve known Duke Renner for years. I consider him a mentor. Duke’s always been eccentric, but have I ever considered his choices to be dangerous or illogical? Not until now. I told him this was a bad idea, and not only because I knew he’d pair me with Avery, but because none of us city folk have any right trekking through a mountainous countryside. He laughed and told me to grow a pair. Nice guy, that Duke Renner.

“Where are you going?” Avery demands when I veer off the path toward a tree.

“I’m taking a piss. That okay?”

“Yes, actually, it is, and by the way, I hope you piss all over yourself,” is called from behind.

Half of my mouth lifts in a fleeting smile. Plain and simple, no matter that I can’t stand her, Avery routinely amuses me.

I unzip my shorts and relieve myself, hearing what sounds like a squeaking sound as I finish up. Sure it’s a rodent scurrying about, I’m not overly concerned until I turn around and find the area Avery-less. Which would be good under regular circumstances, but out here in the wild? Not so much.

“Avery?”

When there continues to be no response, I ask, “Did you find a mirror and get lost in your reflection?”

Silence greets me.

I turn, annoyance flaring through my veins that she’s reciprocating my bad behavior toward her. Only one of us is allowed to be immature, and right now, I own that right. I take in my surroundings, looking for an inimitable shade of golden hair with matching eyes I’ve only seen on one particular woman.

Nothing but nature faces me.

A wisp of alarm threads itself around my chest, tightening enough to let me know something isn’t right.

I turn in a slow circle, pausing to glance over the cliff’s edge. I quickly step back. My stomach dips at the thought of how far up we are, and how far someone would fall if they went over the edge. I swallow. “We’re a bit old to play hide and seek, don’t you think?”

Not able to let fear become even a thought, anger takes over.

I storm back in the direction from which we came, eerie quiet my only companion. Even the birds and bugs are silent. It makes my skin crawl. With her white shorts and pink shirt and shoes, Avery should stick out like a peppy cheerleader-type target among the neutral-toned land. I spent the hour-long drive to our drop-off point wondering who in their right mind would wear white shorts to hike through a mountainside. Now, all I want is to catch a glimpse of her white shorts—and not only because they’re microscopic.

“Avery.”

Why is she not answering me? I run a hand through my hair, jaw jutted forward as I make my way around a rock ledge that partly covers the trail. I look for clues on the ground, but I’m not a detective of any sort, or all that good of a tracker. I see nothing in the dirt to let me know where my coworker went.

“Avery? Can you hear me?”

Another sound, much closer and definitely human, catches my attention. I turn to the left, looking at a small valley where trees reside, and come up short. I stare for a minute, trying not to smile as I meander toward one particular tree. My heartbeats slow with the knowledge that Avery’s safe.

“How’s it hanging?” I greet.

Avery smiles thinly, not replying.

“Let me guess—you’re imitating a tree, right?” I tilt my head sideways to better meet her eyes. I probably shouldn’t be enjoying this as much as I am, but it’s Avery.

She stands at an odd angle, her hair held hostage by a tree limb. Her arms are crossed as she stares death at me. “I just thought I’d like to see the world from a different perspective.”

I rub my jaw. “I see. How’s that going for you?”

Avery’s expression turns lethal.

I pat her shoulder, feel the muscles spasm beneath my touch, and turn. “Well, have fun with that.”

“If you leave me like this, you’re fired.”

A patch of green-and-yellow shrubbery holds my interest as I weigh her quiet words. She’s right, but I’m still considering it. I face Avery, watching her skin turn pinker the longer I gaze at her. Shifting my jaw back and forth, I remove a switchblade from my pocket, flick it open, and advance.

“What are you doing?”

I grin evilly.

“You’re cutting the branch, not my hair, right?” Her eyes dart from the gleaming silver blade to me.

“Yes.”

“Yes? Yes, what?”

Glancing down, I hide a smile before moving behind her. I allow myself one second to study the elegant slope of her neck before taking the limb in hand to saw it in two. It frays, then snaps, and Avery screams like I slit her throat instead of the tree branch holding her hair hostage. She hops around as she disentangles the limb from her hair and manages to trip over the same branch as it hits the ground. She falls, landing on her back in the dirt. A grunt leaves her upon impact.

I watch the rise and fall of her chest as she pants, her gaze deadly and aimed straight at me.

Her creamy skin is pocked with dirt and her shoulder-length hair is a golden poof around her head with twigs and leaves caught in it. The rubber band she used to pull back her hair is now but a memory. Avery’s shorts and T-shirt are brownish gray with debris, and her grapefruit scent has all but dissolved. This is sweet justice, it really is.

Avery’s eyebrows slant down, and she scowls up at me. “Why are you smiling? You’re stuck with me for the next four days.”

The smile drops from my face. I close the knife and shove it back in my pocket before I decide to use it on her. “You’re welcome.”

Avery huffs behind me, but luckily for me, she remains quiet.

I make my way down the rocky incline at a brisk pace, thinking the faster we find our flags and checkpoints, the faster we’ll get out of this hellish place. I misstep on a pile of rocks and roll forward on my boots until I gain control of myself. A branch scrapes my cheek as I pass by a tree too closely. I breathe in the scent of crisp leaves and fresh air. If not for Avery, this might not be all that bad. I’m not much of a nature guy, but this feels peaceful.

“Ben! Wait up!”

I wince. And there goes the peacefulness.

The sun peeks through endless branches, heating my already hot skin. I almost cheer when I hear the sound of moving water. I slow my pace to allow Avery to catch up.

The end of earth comes upon me quickly, and for a moment, I feel weightless. I jerk back from the edge of a rocky cliff. Where the hell did that come from? Without warning, the world ended. My heartbeat takes a drastic leap directly into calamity, and I carefully step away from a ride I’d rather not take, putting a couple feet between me and the drop-off. I set a hand to the rough bark of a tree and look down hundreds of feet to the rushing water below. It looks unapologetically wicked.

“What is it? Why are you stopping?” she asks.

There is one instant—one immoral, spiteful second—where I consider letting her find out on her own. Chances are, Avery would stop walking before she fell to her death. Probably.

I partially turn and look over my shoulder. “Don’t come any closer. It’s a drop-off.”

Avery skids to a stop, her eyes wide in her dirt-smudged face. A chunk of golden hair falls forward to obliterate one eye, giving her appeal she doesn’t need, and that is wasted on me. Pretty face twisting, she throws her hands up. “What is the point of this? We’re just supposed to wander around in the wild for days? This is asinine! There’s no reason we couldn’t learn how to work together as a team at a nice resort, not out in the wilderness. I don’t understand why Duke would do this to us. It’s like he’s punishing us.”

My lips press together. Oh, I am definitely being punished.

“I feel like we’re in The Hunger Games,” Avery mutters from my left. “Who does this anyway?”

“Duke Renner,” I growl, for once in agreement with her.

“I thought we weren’t allowed to bring anything,” Avery remarks.

I look at her.

“Your pocketknife.” She gestures to my shorts. “We were told to not bring anything but ourselves. Isn’t that considered illegal?”

“Illegal?”

“You know what I mean. Against the rules.”

I study Avery’s features. “I would think you’d be glad I had it. Otherwise, you might still be trapped by a deadly tree.”

Her jaw goes taut. “I think the idea was to get me untangled without using a weapon.”

I shrug. “I’ve been wondering…how did you manage to get your hair caught?”

“You know what an even better question is?” She glares at me.

“Why has Duke forsaken me?”

Avery continues to glower at me.

I sigh and briefly explain about the pocketknife, “I don’t go anywhere without it.”

“Why?”

I climb over a boulder almost as big as me, calling over my shoulder, “If I tell you, you’ll just make it into a slogan and sell it on me. You’re good at that.”

AVERY

We all have parts of ourselves we dislike. Some we can help, and others, we cannot. I’ve always hated my freckles and wavy hair. I can’t permanently do anything about either of those.

I carefully heave my frame over the monstrous rock that decided to make its home in the middle of a trail. I scratch my palms and knees in the process. Once I get over it, and by that, I mean, I basically let myself fall over the side and ungracefully land on my feet, I lean over with my palms on my knees and take a moment to catch my breath. Sweat trickles down the sides of my face, stinging my eyes when some drips into them.

“We’re wasting daylight,” Ben says snippily.

“Coming,” I say hoarsely.

I want people to like me, and because of that, I sometimes don’t stay true to myself. The need for approval is strong, and knowing from where it stems, doesn’t negate it. There are times I’ve done things I regret, or acted in a way that isn’t really me, all to impress someone. I study Ben’s profile as he takes in the scenery up ahead. I had control over whether or not I hurt Ben, and I did it anyway. Because I thought the bigger picture outweighed Ben’s feelings. Because I made a mistake I can’t fix.

My chest spasms, tight with pain, and I straighten. I slowly make my way toward my coworker and teammate, my muscles overtaxed and noodle-like. I’m not used to this much physical activity. Exercising is not my friend.

I stop beside Ben, my heart pounding with gusto. He takes one look at me and wordlessly offers a bottle of water.

“Thanks,” I rasp, chugging the water so fast it dribbles down my chin.

“Easy, we need to make that last,” Ben warns, moving to take the bottle from me.

I almost growl at him, but grudgingly relinquish the water.

He hands me a piece of jerky and I chomp down on it, tearing off a small piece and chewing it into oblivion until I can swallow it without the fear of choking on it. I do this until it’s gone, my stomach longing for more. I don’t even bother asking, the look Ben gives me saying not to waste my breath. I grimace and turn from him.

A wind forms, strong and cool. I close my eyes and tip my head back, letting it wave over me. This, right here, this is nice. The rest of it? No. But the breeze is like heaven to my burning skin and downtrodden disposition. It’s enough to put a little pep back into me.

When it passes, I lower my head and open my eyes, surprised to find Ben watching me. Noting the intensity with which he views me, my mouth pulls down. What is he thinking? He quickly looks away, his throat bobbing as he swallows. I decide I probably don’t want to know. I’m sure it’s something hellish, like he wishes I’d break out in scabies or something. I’m not even entirely sure what that is, but it sounds horrible.

“It’s beautiful out here,” Ben says softly.

I turn a critical eye on the world below and beyond us. The landscape blurs the farther out it goes; its rolling hills blanketed with dense greenery and brown soil, and higher still, mountains are tipped in gray and white. Endless, and vast, it stretches out for miles and miles. Land layering land layering land. My opinion shifts from adverse to appreciative.

“It looks like it goes on forever,” I remark, watching as clouds shift and part. It’s dizzying to see from this height, and to know with a few steps forward, I’d be rolling down the side of a mountain. I put more space between me and the ledge.

A bird caws in the distance and I hum to block out the sound, refusing to look at anything but what is directly before me, which is a sloping incline. If I don’t see them or hear them, they aren’t really here. As another bird joins the first, my stomach lurches.

Over the undesirable sound of nasty flying creatures, I shout, “Can we get moving already?”

Ben gives me an odd look. “Why are you yelling?”

“I just like to yell,” I yell.

His eyes narrow. “Since when?”

“Since now,” I get out around clenched teeth, lunging forward when Ben doesn’t move fast enough for me. He can stay here if he wants, but I am most definitely not.

“You want to tell me what’s going on?” Ben easily catches up to me, keeping pace with my light jog.

“Not really.” I huff along, feeling as if my chest is going to collapse on me. I have exercised more today than I have in the past decade. It’s horrible and I hope to never have a repeat of it.

Something flies in front of my face and I swat at the air as I go motionless, closing my eyes so I don’t have to know what it is. Of course, I ask anyway. “What was that?”

Ben answers carefully, “A bug.”

“It felt really big and seemed to have wings, like a bat…or a bird.”

“It was a fly.”

“No way.” I crack open one eye to find Ben staring at me. I snap, “What?”

“Bats aren’t out during the day. You do know that, right?”

My skin suddenly itches, imaging phantom bugs crawling on me. Or real. They could be real. Tiny, microscopic, disgusting bugs. I scratch at my arms and legs. “There are exceptions to everything.”

“Sure, but it wasn’t a bat.”

“Are there bugs on me?” Panic escalates, taking my sanity with it.

“No,” Ben replies slowly.

“Are you sure? Because it feels like there are.”

He continues to watch me, finally asking, “Are you having a mental breakdown?”

I scratch harder. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“Well, I wouldn’t exactly be sad about it.”

I make a sound from deep in my chest.

“Was that a growl?”

I stop scratching long enough to glare at him. “I hate bugs.”

“Got that.”

I navigate the land, pretty sure we’re descending directly into hell. The tight feeling in my chest is getting worse, as is my scratching. “There are no bugs on you,” I tell myself, right before one lands on my shoulder.

I shriek as I jump up and down, swatting at my shirt. The bug is attached to the fabric, clinging to me for all it’s worth. I hit myself harder in desperation. The bug is large, and black, and ugly. So ugly. As I spin around, I run into something hard and unmovable.

Ben stares down at me, gripping my un-bugged shoulder with enough force to keep me still. He holds my gaze as he calmly removes the bug from my shoulder and flicks it away. I look at the ground, my face flooding with heat now that that ordeal is over. That was a little embarrassing.

I straighten my spine and go about my walk as if nothing happened. My eyes briefly meet Ben’s. He lifts his eyebrows.

I give him a dirty look and walk faster, my back stiffening at the faint sound of chuckling behind me.