16. Sixteen
sixteen
GINGER
The crew is asleep and I should be, too, but the bed in my tiny camper isn’t made for someone in a relationship with memory foam. I toss and turn, jumping at every sound, even though the crew and I are far more secure in our campers than the women are in their tents.
Davis still hasn’t heard from Jenna, but it hasn’t stopped me from outlining the case I’ll make to Marlon to let America’s sweetheart out of her old contract for another chance at the one she let get away.
Just because it’s never been done before doesn’t mean it’s a terrible idea. And just because it’s a decent idea doesn’t mean it will work. Still, it could be the exact thing I need to get Elliot’s head back in the game and coax a promotion-worthy performance out of him.
After all, he was head over heels for Jenna. She was everything he ever wanted—he said as much multiple times in several interviews filmed throughout the course of last season. Surely with her back, he and I can both get what we want—different, but equally satisfying happily ever afters.
Plus, if I don’t do something major, someone will probably walk in on me feeling him up in his Hacienda guesthouse if I’m ever stupid enough to go into it alone again. And forget promotions—I’ll be out of a job.
In the woods earlier, I had a true sense of how my control is slipping. The limo ride two nights ago was one thing—we were completely alone, but I’m back at work. Today, morals wavered, and goals were strongly reconsidered in the space of time it took him to run his hand up my side. I can’t take another chance like that.
Wide awake and on edge, I rearrange my pillow again, but as I rest my cheek against the cool side, the sight of a man coming through the door makes me scream. Unfortunately, it isn’t exactly blood-curdling. It’s one of those strangled screams I try for in dreams that are never loud enough to get anyone to come help me.
“Shh. Shh...it’s me.”
Goosebumps rise on my entire body at the sound of Elliot’s hushed voice. No. Uh-uh. No way. “What the hell are you doing here? Get out!”
“Who do I need to speak with to get a copy of my contract?”
My heads jerks like he struck me. “Excuse me?”
“You? Or do I need to go above you?”
I have a PDF of it in my email inbox somewhere, but I’ll walk through the woods naked before I let him see it while we’re in the middle of production. Why the hell can’t he focus?
“Can I turn the light on?” He fumbles along the wall in search of a switch.
I bolt out of bed. “Don’t! Someone will see.”
“Will you relax? It’s two in the morning. No one’s up.”
“You are. I am.” Saying the words puts me in mind of one thing only. But more importantly, why does he need to look at his contract?
“I can’t sleep.”
“And you think your contract is gonna fix that?”
“It’s a start. I want out of this. This was a mistake.”
“Whoa. Hold up.” I switch modes from sheet-clutching to smooth-talking. This happens every season—someone threatens to walk. Granted, it’s never been my responsibility to talk the actual star out of it, but Marlon gave me this job for a reason. “Let’s go for a walk. We’ll talk it out. I know this environment can be stressful, and the demands on you are way different this season, but we can get through this.”
He rubs the back of his neck, giving me a look like I’m trying to sell him a used car. “We can’t even talk to each other like humans.”
My hackles rise. I’ll be damned if I’m not totally capable of managing a charged situation. I knew Elliot would be a handful even before he got that massive erection in the limo, so I’m ready for this. If he wants to be heard, I’ll listen. If he needs reassurance that he’s in the right place doing the right thing, I’ll give him that, too. If he wants the promise of a happy ending—I’ll move heaven and earth to get Jenna back on the show, even if I have to break Jenna and Eric up myself.
“Let’s go for a walk,” I offer again. “You can tell me whatever’s on your mind. Deal?”
“If you get me a copy of my contract.”
“I’ll see what I can do, but first...?” I gesture toward the door.
“Fine,” he mumbles.
In my flannel pajamas, I slip on my UGGs and pull my hair into a bun. Thinking twice, I put on my sweatshirt, too. The more clothes the better.
As I approach the open door and look out into the black night, I pause. Well, freeze. It’s a hellscape of unknowns out there. There’s not reason we have to take a walk, but there’s a bed in here, and I’m not sure which is scarier. “Do you have a flashlight?”
He runs a hand up his face and through his hair, letting out an exasperated sigh. “Yes. We can walk down to the creek. It’s private.”
“What creek? I haven’t seen a creek. Like how far away is it?”
“I got on a zip line today. You can take a walk in the woods.”
“There are bears out there.”
He snorts a derisive laugh. “Bears sleep, too.”
I shake my head. Adamant. “I can’t. I refuse to become that girl.”
“Forget it, then. I’m going back to my tent. I’ll talk to Matt in the morning.”
“Hang on.” I hurry to my suitcase, opening a plastic shopping bag, and taking out the can of bear repellant I bought on the drive out here. I meet Elliot back at the door. “Okay, I’m ready.”
“What is this?” He wrenches the can out of my grasp and shines his flashlight briefly on the label. He chuckles. Handing it back, he says, “No bear in his right mind would come after you.”
I take that as a compliment.
With his flashlight off, and our way lit only by the glow of the dying campfire, we walk quickly across the soft forest floor, sneaking into the line of trees, away from dark tents and campers.
Once our trail is lit only by moonlight, Elliot turns on the flashlight, the beam illuminating a branch I’m about to trip on. “So what’s going on? Why are you stressed?” I whisper.
Everything out here is so quiet, each tiny sound booms like a thunderclap. I’m nearing a state of perpetual freak out. Part of me wants him to shine the beam into the woods so I’ll know nothing is lying in wait, but the other part of me is terrified he’ll illuminate a pair of glowing, red eyes.
“Who said I’m stressed?”
“You barged into my camper at two in the morning. I assumed something was weighing heavily.” I need to cut the sarcasm, but in this business, it’s a survival mechanism.
“I like to know what my options are,” he says.
“Options for what?”
“Going home.”
I push back a tree branch near my forehead. “Look, if you’re pissed at me, I get it. I know I can come across harsh, but if you tell me what you need from me, I’ll make every effort to do better. You want me to be nicer, I’ll be nicer—you want me to keep my distance, I can do that, too. I want this to work, Elliot. For you and for me.”
He stops walking so suddenly I nearly smack into his back, but I catch myself and halt behind him. Slowly he turns to face me. “I’ll be honest. If I’d known you’d be producing me, I wouldn’t have come until they made other arrangements.”
It’s a real slap in the face, and it stings. For a moment, I’m struck silent. Scrambling to control my reaction, my brain processes his words in several different contexts. He could mean I’m a shitty producer, and he doesn’t want to work with a hack; or maybe he means he’s so wildly attracted to me, he can’t bear being in a room with me without wanting to totally ravish me, or, more realistically, he could mean our relationship is complicated to navigate given the fact that we fucked in a hotel room once when we both had no one to answer to.
It’s probably the latter. And it’s a sentiment I sympathize with. “Fair enough,” I say. “But we’re here now, and we’re both adults. I think we can make it work if we’re clear on what we want from each other.”
I’ll pat myself on the back for that one later.
“What we want?” At the same time he asks, he runs a fingertip down my neck, stopping where the hickey is.
I slap his hand down. “Yes, but I need you to stop touching me.”
“You sure?”
“I’m positive.”
He holds up both hands in surrender and keeps walking.
Like a dumbass, I follow him.
“I’d think after the other night what we wanted was pretty obvious,” he says.
The bold reference to our most recent off-screen shenanigans does its part to totally fluster me. “That’s not a fair—I tried to—You wouldn’t—Look. You had an erection. What was I supposed to do, ignore it and talk about the schedule?”
“Don’t act like that wasn’t an option.”
It’s so freaking infuriating that he insists on calling out my part in all this. Like he bears no responsibility whatsoever. Like he has no clue how hot he is—or how irresistible.
I brush a leaf out of my hair and make a decision to own my part. He’s right. He was turned on, which turned me on, and shit happened. The only thing I can control anymore is that it never happens again, or worse.
So why am I still following him?
He has the flashlight.
It’s perfectly reasonable.
The trees part, and the creek glistens before us. If I weren’t so conflicted, it might be pretty. Instead, I glare down at the rippling stream of water, resenting its perfection.
Elliot sits on the rocky shore, his legs crossed beneath him like a kid at a campfire. He lets the water flow over his hand, between his fingers. The sound of the creek does its part to drown out the random forest noises.
I stand by and focus on the way the moonlight bounces off the ripples of water.
“Nice, right?” he asks after a long moment of silence.
“Sure.”
“I still want to talk about the contract, but I never got a chance to thank you for what you did at the zip line. I never would have done that if it hadn’t been... Well, you get the idea.”
My tense shoulders relax. I was proud of us together, and it’s nice of him to acknowledge my efforts.
“It was no sweat. You were fine.”
“I thought Michelle was the only person who could make me do something like that.”
“Why Michelle?” I ask, my curiosity about their relationship brimming over the edge.
“We’ve been through everything together. She’s the only reason I came back here.”
Surely not the only one. No one is that convincing.
“Were you ever...?”
“Yes.”
I was about to say more than friends. Either he read my mind or completely misunderstood.
“When?”
“High school.”
“Only high school?”
He nods.
“That was a long time ago...” I say.
“You don’t believe me?” He sends a devilish grin my way.
“Are you over it?”
He huffs out a short laugh. “Yeah. It was definitely a phase.”
Somewhat mollified by the tone of his response, my nagging jealousy recedes. “Interesting you’ve stayed so close.”
“She was the one who drove my mom to rehab,” he says quietly as he continues to stare out at the water. “She knew me and my sister couldn’t do it...we’d cave...fall apart. Something. Michelle took care of everything. But you know—it didn’t stick, so...” He tosses another stone into the creek.
“When was that?” I ask.
“I was a senior in college. Anyway...that’s why Michelle. We’re connected.”
The word is like a fist to the chest. Connected. I shared a womb with my sister, and yet I’ve always felt like the most disconnected girl in the world. No one ever gets me. No one even likes me, really. Respects, sure, puts up with, yes. But I’ve spent my entire life trying to do things my own way, trying to explain to other people—my sister, my family—why the way I thought about school or life or my dreams made just as much sense as their ways did, and I’ve been dismissed so many times I stopped trying to explain herself. Why bother? They’d already written me off as a misfit.
I always thought I had something to prove to all of them, but maybe what I was really looking for was what he said—a connection. God, why am I letting him get to me like this? I refuse to succumb to self-pity. Focus is paramount. I have to keep it together or my entire world could fall apart.
“Well, I’m glad I helped you overcome a fear.” The zip line is a safer topic. “But if something like that happens again, it has to be one of the women who helps you.”
“Right.”
“Cause you and I aren’t a thing.”
“Okay, Ginger.”
“Christ, I mean how many options do you need?”
“Don’t even start,” he says.
“Contract loopholes aside, you signed up for this. You wanted it.”
He pitches another rock into the stream before shoving his hands into his hoodie pockets. Hunching over, he stares out at the water.
“Are we just gonna sit here?” I ask.
“You’re not sitting,” he notes.
“It doesn’t look comfortable.”
He scoots away from the edge of the water, to a place that’s more grass and dirt than rock. He pats the ground beside him.
I hesitate.
“I won’t bite,” he says.
The marks on my neck and breasts say differently.
He glances up at me, his hair falling across his eyes, grazing the tops of his cheekbones. His beauty puts a catch in my breath. “Humor me,” he says. “You said you’d do whatever I needed. Do your job.”
When those words left my mouth in the guesthouse, I had no idea he’d be throwing them back in my face so often. Against my better judgment, I set down my can of bear repellant and sit, but silence descends swiftly and oppressively.
“Anybody stand out to you today?” I ask, in a pathetic attempt to make conversation.
He gives me a long look full of exasperation but doesn’t say anything.
“I still like Cassie. And Hannah,” I offer.
“Shut. Up.”
“Just trying to help.”
He sighs. “It’s not. Helping.”
I press my lips together to keep my mouth closed. Meanwhile, my body hums with his nearness. My entire right side fills with light and heat. The whole scene should be relaxing me, not putting me one step away from falling off a cliff. The situation sucks. My job vs. Elliot. I can’t have one without sacrificing the other, and sitting next to him, alone in the woods, far from any prying eyes, the choice is impossible. I want his hands on me so much I could scream.
“Did you need me to apologize for the other night?” I ask.
“Nope.”
“Good, because I wasn’t going to.”
“Good.” He lets out another breath, and the moisture of it forms a small puff of steam in front of his mouth. I shiver.
He adds, “You could apologize for some of the shit you’ve said since then, but it’s not a deal breaker.”
“I’m not gonna disagree, but none of it was intended to maim or kill.”
He chuckles, halfheartedly. “Guess I’ll take it.”
“I’m sorry if I...” The apology trails off, falling flat. I’m not sorry. Even if being with him was wrong, it’s hard to regret doing something I so much wanted to do.
He turns to face me. The moon lights his face with a soft glow, like dawn before the sun fully rises. “If you what?”
It’s only been minutes since he looked in me the eyes, but it’s disconcerting how I’ve missed it—his dark and singular attention. The rush of his direct stare goes straight to my head and elsewhere. “This has to stop,” I say, more to myself than him.
He swallows before taking a breath to speak. His eyes tighten at the corners like his own thoughts hurt to think. “I don’t know if I can.”
Something about the look on his face inspires something deeper than lust inside me. The ache in his words sear me. An urge to soothe it overwhelms me, and all my bravado drops away. I feel terrible for distracting him. Selfish. He didn’t come here to get tangled up with me. “I never should have gotten in that limo with you. I knew it wouldn’t end well.”
“No. It had to happen. I told you I can’t get my mind off you.”
Though the words ignite my insides, I fight with every ounce of strength I have left, but it doesn’t amount to much. His presence is kryptonite. “Elliot, I swear to God, if you don’t fulfill your contractual obligation, I’ll sue your ass myself.”
“I know what I’m doing.” He moves in, turning his body toward mine and reaching across my opposite hip to pull me closer. “Trust me.”
My inner scaffolding shudders and threatens to collapse. If he keeps talking like that, there’ll be nothing left to hold me up anymore. “Elliot. Fuck.”
He nudges my nose with his, drawing my mouth into the perfect angle for a kiss. “You know you won’t be sorry,” he whispers.
“Yes. I will be. I’ll regret it for the rest of my life.”
“Regrets are for opportunities lost—not the chances you take.”
My morals and misgivings take another round of shots from the firing squad of Elliot’s nearness. This isn’t going to end well, either. He smells like a campfire, and everything in me wants to curl up next to it. Which has to be pretty obvious because I’m clutching the hem of his thermal shirt like it can save my life in this career emergency.
We share a few more panting breaths, the anticipation building as my heartbeat quickens. A slight brush of our lips does the trick of demolishing what’s left of my will to resist. I bridge the minuscule gap, sealing our mouths together. The heat of his lips is like fire next to his cool cheeks. It’s the only way to get warm, and so I sink more deeply into it.
He wraps his arms around me, drawing me in. The possessive slide of his tongue against mine obliterates every ounce of sense in my head. My body takes over, a victim of the tidal wave of want crashing through me. But as the intensity of our kiss builds, our breaths heated and rushed, want seems too small and imperfect a word to describe what I’m feeling. This is a craving so profound, I can’t even conceive of denying it. My mouth seeks his, demanding more. His response is equally aggressive.
A second later, I’m flat on my back with my head grinding into the dirt from the force of his kiss. Desire turns my insides to liquid as he climbs on top of me, sliding his rigid cock between my thighs. Goddamn this guy!
My need to have him inside me is intense, undeniable, and impossible. We can’t do this.
I don’t know how to stop.
He reaches for the waistband of my pajama pants. “No—condom...” It’s all I’ve got—a dangling thread of a reason.
He devours my neck with a wide-open mouth. “I have one.”
With my last hope for a decent excuse effectively gone, I’m secretly relieved. But I have to keep this simple. Kissing him like he’s my dream come true isn’t doing either one of us any favors. Switching gears, like a desperate animal, I give his pants a firm downward shove with both hands.
“That’s how it’s gonna be?”
“Take it or leave it,” I breathe as I run my hands up the back of his shirt.
He follows my lead, my baggy pants not offering much more than I am in the way of resistance. Dropping back onto me with a thud that takes my breath away, his tongue finds mine again. I grab hold of his ass, fingernails digging and trying to draw him in, keep him close. “You sure this is what you want?” he asks.
“You’re asking? Seriously?”
“I wanna hear you say it.”
Shifting my hips to the right, I catch him, stealing his hesitation right out from under him. Helpless, he groans as he fills me with his thick length. My neck arches from the ground as I let out an unholy moan. Dear God, this man is perfect. When our hips collide, our foreheads meet, and the steam of our breath mingles in the air between us.
“Goddamn. Okay,” he pants. “Did you want me to put on the condom or not? Jesus.”
“In a minute.”
Emotional and romantic, it isn’t, but we didn’t come out here for any of that. We came here to fuck. Period. There’s no use denying it or trying to pretty it up. I don’t need it to be pretty.
His hips roll and thrust. Blinking my eyes open, they meet his. Though he’s inside me, as close as he can be, he still seems so frustratingly unknowable. I clench around his cock, drawing him back to his full depth as he shudders and groan. It’s the sexiest sound, putting a pinch deep in my heart. “Feels so good. Don’t stop.”
I want more of it. More of him, even if these are truly unacceptable feelings to have while engaging in career-ending sex, and yet...
When his mouth crashes into mine again, it’s game on. Whatever spiritual moment that was trying to brew dissipates as his hips pick up speed and power, pounding my body into the dirt. He’s literally fucking me on the forest floor, and I’m about to come in the great outdoors.
“Squeeze me tight,” he whispers.
I clamp down hard, focusing on the here and now, the physical. My body responds with pure pleasure at how dirty this is—how naughty we are together. So bad.
“Fuck,” he grunts, having to move in harder. The added friction heats me up. I grip him by the face as my mouth tears into his like I’m addicted.
Just because we’re having real sex doesn’t mean anything, right? It doesn’t have to ruin the show. It’s a pressure valve release. Human nature. And it feels so good.
He presses in deeper. I gasp and scratch at his shoulders, both overwhelmed and unwound. “Wait—wait—oh—oh God...I’m gonna come, Elliot.”
“So—Fuck the condom?”
I grip his ass and force him to be still in a last ditch bid for some control over what’s going on inside my body. The way he fills me and my increasingly intense need for release finally reaches a tipping point when he groans in frustration. The guttural sound pushes me over the edge.
My climax jolts me, a cry choking out of me as I tremble and clench around his cock. My lower body tenses with tiny spasms, but before my orgasm even has a chance to wrap itself up—before I can ride out the maddening pleasure, he pulls out. “Elliot?”
The sound of his groan is intense, but the rip of a foil packet is the noise I crave in the worst way.
He settles himself between my legs with the condom on, his tip nudging the place where I still ache to have him. “You have zero chill,” he says.
He’s right. I’m out of control, but it’s far too late to care.
A hand on his bare ass, I guide him back inside, gasping as he stretches and fills me again.
He sighs, long, drawn out, and shaky. “You feel unreal.”
I’ve never heard that one before. It totally works.
His mouth drifts over mine, and everything in me strains for it. But then I have some sort of out-of-body vision of us, deeply kissing in missionary in the middle of the woods, and it’s too intimate, too romantic—too much like making love.
I refuse to let myself go there. I turn my head, lurching with my entire body. He takes the hint, rolling us over to put me on top. I rise, creating some distance between our faces.
With my eyes shut tight, I ride him. Slowly at first, then picking up speed. My hands brace on his tense chest while his fingers drive themselves deeper into the flesh of my ass.
The sounds coming from me aren’t cute anymore. They’re grunts and rapid pants, and I bite my lip to keep from waking every animal in the forest along with the entire cast and crew.
Neck arched, I turn my face to the sky. He jerks his hips upward, driving deep. The stars blur as another orgasm obliterates my insides, causing me to quake around him. He lets himself go, too. Holding my ass tight against him while his cock throbs, his release pulses inside me. His broken groan echoes off the trees before I lose my core muscle strength and land in a heap on top of him, loving the blissful endorphins and hating my traitorous body with equal measure.
After making some minor adjustments, Elliot moves us onto our sides, cradling me close. With his mouth right next to my ear, his breaths sound like the roar of the ocean.
The sex was perfect. Untamed. Feral. Hot. But the way we lie here afterward is exactly the way we ended up on his hotel room floor so many months ago where I held his hand against my stomach and begged him not to go anywhere.
And he didn’t. I did.
But tonight in the woods, I don’t want to go back to my trailer. I want to keep getting dirty with him for as long as we both can take it.
Instead of any of that, because none of that sounds like the Ginger I know or aspire to be, I say, “You should go for the virgin. You can train her up just how you like.”
“Fuck you.” He nudges my nose with his, surprising me with a soft kiss. His hand on the back of my head draws me closer, letting his tongue delve deeper.
I can’t resist. His mouth is so warm, and he tastes so good.
“Maybe she can teach you some restraint,” I say when he takes a break to breathe.
“Can you even imagine me with a virgin? Fuck.” He rubs his hand over my still bare ass, circling and squeezing, grinding dirt in only to brush it off.
I hum, my eyes closing at the filthiness of it. His touch melts me, the same way his words do, hinting at an intimacy between us that can’t exist with anyone else here. I know him better. More. “Elliot, I can’t lose my job. Not like this.”
“I’m not gonna let you lose your job. We’ll be careful.”
“We’ll get caught.”
His hand stills. He blinks. “Wait—are you considering doing this again?”
Am I?
Goddamn, I am. He caught me in a moment, and I still want him in the worst way imaginable. But it could mean the total and complete destruction of everything I ever held dear. I lick my lips and avert my eyes.
“No, no, no, no—don’t think about it too much. Stop.” He grasps the back of my head, forcing me to look at him. His face ruins me. “We can do this. We need this.”
No. This can never happen again. Look where we are—right out in the open where anyone could find us half-naked and damn near lost in each other. I force myself to move, pull up my pants, and sit.
He does the same. “You know, if something’s about to happen for the last time, you should mention that before it starts,” he says, his tone somewhat scolding.
“I wasn’t thinking straight. You keep acting like I’m all calculating and have my shit together when it comes to you, when what you should notice is I’m a complete mess and—I don’t know—maybe act like a gentleman for once.”
He lets a short, disbelieving laugh escape. “I guess I could try that. If it’s what you want.”
The remaining dirt in my underwear makes sitting gross and uncomfortable. I shift to my knees. “It doesn’t matter what I want. Can you focus now? Have you gotten what you need to get out of your system? Can we finally move on?”
“I don’t know. Can I get a copy of my contract?”
Jesus, we’re not back to that, are we? “You don’t seriously still want to quit, do you?”
He gestures toward the woods, in the direction of the campsite. “What I want isn’t back there.”
“You have no idea what you want, Elliot. That’s why you’re here. So someone can pick for you. Just let us help. You won’t leave here unhappy. I promise.”
He scowls like I have no idea what I’m talking about or I’m even capable of doing my job. It’s borderline insulting, but also, in light of our circumstance, kind of understandable.
Still.
“I came here knowing exactly what I wanted,” he says.
I flip a stray hair from my cheek with a jerk of my head. “Oh yeah? What was that?”
“A wife. A life. Something real.”
I blink at the conviction in his voice. “Then what are we doing here?”
“I want you more.”
“Well, congratulations. Because when you signed that contract, you managed to do the one thing that made that impossible.” I’m about to stand, but he takes hold of my wrist, keeping me on the ground.
“I wanted you first.”
No, he didn’t. He wanted Jenna first. I was the backup. I still am because no one here is allowed to sleep with him yet. I work to keep a lid on my flaring temper. “We need to get back,” I say tightly.
“It’s just a contract, Ginger.”
There’s an urgency in his voice and in his gaze rooting me to the earth. “It’s my job , Elliot.”
“A job is just a job,” he insists.
It’s probably pretty easy for someone who looks like him, and fits in so well, and is desired by all the world like he is to say a thing like that to a person he’s barely scratched the surface with. When was the last time he had to prove to someone he was worthy of the skin was born in? I refuse to let his pretty face and his scrambling heart get to me when everything I’ve ever worked for is on the line.
“It’s not that simple,” I say to close the subject. “Let’s see where things go, okay?”
“With us?”
Thankfully, my producer hat is back on, although the fit is more awkward than before. “With the show. I have every confidence in this process. Especially for you. These women are amazing.”
“Ginger, I swear to God...” He hangs his head in frustrated doubt.
I place a hand against his cheek, urging him to look up. “It’s your turn to trust me, Elliot.”
Our eyes met and hold. Desire and a pain reminiscent of my angsty middle school crush fill my chest, putting too much pressure on my heart.
“Okay,” he whispers.
The urge to kiss him again is so strong it almost does me in. I beat it back, finally forcing myself to stand. “We really need to get back.”
We don’t talk as we make our way through the woods. At first, the silence between us seems appropriate, until it becomes overwhelmingly noticeable. But by the time I think of something I can say to break the tension, the dying campfire glows through the trees.
Probably for the best. I was only going to mention bears again.
And rightly so because as I squash the thought, a rustle of leaves to our left causes us to freeze in our tracks. Elliot’s flashlight beam sweeps the tree trunks, and I let loose a squawking noise as the hulking form of a man takes shape in the glow.
“Ginger—Christ—what the fuck!” Matt sounds as freaked out as I am.
At first, relieved it’s only Matt, I have a moment of breathing easy, and then I gasp because it’s Matt . And I’m clearly not alone, and I still have leaves in my hair and there is no reason to be alone in the woods with the star of the show in the middle of the night that isn’t really, really bad.
Elliot, to my horror, takes a step closer to me, his body crowding my left side as he looms behind me.
Without thinking, I pat a hand over my hair. So many leaves...
Matt approaches silently, taking stock of the two of us, the light from his own flashlight examining us both the way a detective would examine a crime scene. Narrowing his eyes, he leans casually against a tree trunk, taking a drag from a lit cigarette.
I can’t help it. “You’re smoking?”
He chuckles, shaking his head in disbelief. He points at Elliot with the lit end of his cigarette. “You’re fucking him?”
On the spectrum of vices, I may technically have more to explain. I veer in another direction. “Of course not.” My voice drips with indignation and a hint of derision. “I was looking for him.”
“I wandered off,” Elliot adds. Not helpfully.
Matt isn’t buying any of it. He shines his flashlight beam directly at my neck. Reflexively I reach up to cover the hickey.
“He’s back now. I’m going to bed.” I beat a path out of the woods and into the clearing of the campsite.
The men follow, shutting off their flashlights so as not to alert everyone that some major shit is going down. “We need to talk,” Matt mumbles.
“Not tonight,” I hiss.
His tone leaves no room for argument. “Now.”