Page 39 of Wandering Wild
“Like that’s going to happen now,” she mumbles.
I repress a smile, and watch as Hawke and Bentley pack up and say goodnight to us, retreating into their parachute.
The air between Charlie and me becomes uneasy, and it takes me a moment to realize why, but when I do, I quickly say, “You can have the tent. I’ll sleep out here tonight.”
She frowns. “That’s not—I mean—We can... we can share.”
Despite her words, she’s clearly uncomfortable, her eyes darting to the second parachute and back again, her features pinched. She’s already done so much for me just by being here; the last thing I want is to make it even harder on her.
“You can’t get a view like this back where I’m from,” I say, indicating the moonlit river, then pointing upward at the cloudless sky with its unending starry expanse. The timing is perfect, because she follows my finger right as a meteor streaks across the horizon. “It’s been a long time since I’ve slept under the stars,” I continue, “so I’m looking forward to this. Go, the shelter is all yours.”
She still hesitates, and I know why. The air is cold enough that our breaths are visible, even with the fire, and the ground is rough and pebbled. It won’t be the most pleasant sleeping experience, but this way Charlie doesn’t have to worry about us waking up tangled in each other’s arms.
That image sends an unexpected bolt of warmth through me. I can’t deny that I’m attracted to her—not just physically, but what I’m coming to know on a deeper level as well. However, I’m also aware those thoughts aren’t reciprocated, and the smartest thing I can do is ignore whatever I feel growing toward her. We have three days left together, and then we’ll part ways, hopefully not as enemies, but we also won’t be friends. She’s made that perfectly clear, and I’ll respect her wishes, even if I still don’t understand them.
“Well, I guess goodnight, then,” she says, rubbing her arms self-consciously.
I make sure my smile is genuine as I return the words. “Goodnight, Charlie. Don’t let the forest bugs bite.” My smile falls. “No, but seriously, don’t. They’ll probably kill you.”
She chuckles lightly—filling me with yet more warmth that I ignore—and then repeats, “’Night, Zander. I’ll see you in the morning. Assuming we’re both still alive.”
On that special note of dark humor, she disappears inside the parachute, leaving me with the crackling fire, gurgling river, and chirping crickets. The unfamiliar sounds of nature are so loud that I’m sure it’ll take me hours to fall asleep, but I couldn’t be more wrong.
Because as soon as I close my eyes, the day catches up to me—and I’m out like a light.
* * *
The first thing I hear when I wake in the morning is a female voice—but it’s not Charlie’s.
I crack my eyes open to see Scarlett and a group of black-clothed crew members bustling around our campsite, the former talking with Hawke while the latter help Bentley swap out his camera equipment.
A groan leaves me as I sit up, my body one big ache after the physical challenges of yesterday combined with sleeping like the dead on the hard earth. I work the kinks out of my neck and stretch my muscles before slowly rising to my feet.
“Morning, Zander,” Scarlett says when I stumble over to her and Hawke. “Sleep well?”
The cracking sounds my joints make as I approach give her all the answer she needs. “Please tell me you brought some of that for the rest of us?” I beg, looking longingly at her insulated travel mug while inhaling the heavenly scent of coffee.
“There’s some waiting for you back at the hotel.” Her hazel eyes shine devilishly as she takes a long sip. “You can have it when you return on Friday.”
“Cruel,” I tell her, though I hardly expected a different answer.
She laughs. “Charlie said the same thing.”
“She’s up already?” I peer through the dawn light toward her parachute-tent.
“You’re the only one who managed to sleep through this racket,” Hawke says, indicating theHawke’s Wild Worldteam all around us. Before I can ask, he adds, “She’s downstream, taking a quick bath. Hopefully emphasizing the ‘quick,’ or she’ll end up with hypothermia.”
As someone who was in the river up to my knees yesterday, I know Hawke isn’t exaggerating. It’s only a few weeks past winter, so the water isn’t just cold, it’scold. But like Charlie, I’m eager to freshen up, so I ask Hawke which direction she went in, and I head the other way. I’m not daring enough to wade all the way in, but I use a spare sock as a washcloth and clean as much of my body as I can.
When I return to camp, Charlie is already back, and she slides over on her log to make room for me while holding out a bunch of pink lilly pilly berries and saying, “Breakfast.”
It’s not coffee, but it’s also not another dead animal, so I thank her and toss them in my mouth. The fire is low, almost out, but we sit in front of it munching quietly together, until I glance around and ask, “Do you know why the support team is here?”
She follows my gaze to where Scarlett is still standing with Hawke, but now Bentley has joined them, along with another woman. All four of them are examining the map Hawke showed us yesterday, their faces thoughtful as they murmur among themselves.
“Apparently they planned to meet us last night after dinner, but their vehicles had a harder time with the terrain than they expected,” Charlie answers. “From what I gather, they’re meant to check in throughout the day to make sure we don’t have any injuries or equipment issues, plus they do things like resupply the rope that we had to leave on the mountain yesterday. Ropes,” she amends, with neither of us mentioningwhya second rope was needed. “All stuff that’s never included on-screen when the show airs, since they want it to look as survival-y as possible. Keep the magic alive, and all that.”
I eye her closely. “You don’t seem surprised.”
