Chapter Nine
The path alongside the river rises and falls. When inclining sharply, it forces our heart rates to increase as we battle with the hill, dodging saplings, thorny bushes and fallen branches. James steps over them with ease. Sometimes I have to take off my bag, throw it to the other side, then straddle the thing to clear it. Occasionally, he stops to offer me a hand, but I hiss at it. I don’t need his help. I never have before, and I don’t need it now.
When the path is low there are spots, almost like little beaches, where we can pause to fill our bottles and take a break before climbing again. I notice the lids have a strange filter in them. Hopefully this is keeping us safe from any kind of sickness. I’m reaching a point where I may need to tuck into another protein bar, but the thought of it turns my stomach. They’re all strawberry flavoured with a layer of yoghurt dried over the top. They’re chewy to the point of making your jaw ache.
I once again think about dipping a salty chip into a pot of red sauce.
“What you groaning about?” James asks, taking a sip from his bottle.
“I’m hungry but I don’t want to eat another protein bar.”
“Me neither. Although I doubt you’d want to go hunting so I haven’t suggested it.”
I laugh, exasperated, resting my hands on my hips. “Even if I was ok with murdering a wild bunny – which I’m not, by the way – how would you go about hunting, Gloatman? Do you really know how?”
James rubs the back of his neck as he takes a big gulp of air, lifting his chest high enough that his black t-shirt rises, showing a little patch of belly-button hair and firm stomach. I bite the inside of my cheek, forcing myself to look away. I can’t believe I had my hands and body plastered up against him last night.
“Never actually hunted anything before,” he says. “But I reckon I could start a fire.”
I frown. “Is that wise?”
“It’ll be safe. And besides, have you seen any sign of civilisation yet? Looks like we’re in for at least one more night in the wilderness.”
I want to cry.
“Don’t freak out,” he warns, pointing at me. “What’s the worst that can happen?”
“Are you seriously asking me that right now? I’m sure your risk-management levels are low, but mine aren’t. If there’s something for me to stress about, I’ve done it already. We could fall and injure ourselves. You might hit your head. I might hit my head. We could both fall and hit our heads! But worse than that, I’m going to have to shiver my arse off again for another night.”
“No, you’re not,” James says, dropping his hands to his side on an exhale. “You can sleep with me again.”
I freeze, my eyes wide like saucers. There’s no way I just witnessed him say that out loud as if it isn’t the worst thing that I’ve ever done. Does he want me to sleep with him? Why doesn’t he care more? Why isn’t he traumatised?
“Don’t do that…” James starts.
“Oh god!” I say, grabbing at my hair hanging loosely across my shoulders. “Is this the bit where I find out you’ve been in love with me this whole time, but it’s taken you being forced into the wilderness with me for twenty-four hours to admit it?”
He blinks.
“Oh, shit! You love me! ”
“Ha!” James’ face morphs into this big fat clown grin. He leans forwards as he laughs, resting his hands on his knees. His laughter bubbles into full-on fits as he struggles to control himself. Finally, he rises again, wiping his eyes, making that stupid “ahhhh” sound. “That’s the funniest… No, wait. That’s the only funny thing you’ve ever said.”
I pull a face, folding my arms across my chest. “No, then, I take?”
He restores his face to a calm expression. “No, Felicity. And I cannot stress this enough. You’re annoying as fuck. Running up to this work trip, I had such little respect for you, I even contemplated abandoning you at the layby and taking off with the money. For the last six years you’ve repeatedly done anything you can to make my life harder at work.”
“No, I haven’t!” I object.
“You’re a nightmare; you actively attempt to discredit all my ideas.”
“Because they affect me! And my team!” I shout. My blood is boiling.
James scoffs. “You don’t give me a chance. I was negotiating the loss of ticket revenue into the costs for my idea. I was going to make sure marketing got their piece of the pie!”
I stumble backwards, grabbing a branch for support. I’m not sure I believe him. I think about saying as much, but instead I decide to keep my mouth shut. It’s not that I don’t think he has the capacity for being good. It’s that it’s easier to continue to challenge him for the director role if I think he’s a bit of a shit.
James shakes his head, turning towards the path again, but then stops, looking across the river. “We need to be on that side,” he says, pointing. “Especially if we want this to be over with.”
“Well, we can’t cross it.”
He points to the grassy slope on the other side of the fast-flowing water. “We could climb back up that side. And the current doesn’t look as strong here.”
“You’re not seriously saying what I think you are. Because that would be insane.”
“Oh, come on. You can swim, can’t you?”
“Not in freezing-cold rushing water, I can’t.”
James rolls his eyes, pushing his hair back from his forehead – it’s completely flat and floppy now. It would be cute, endearing, if it wasn’t on an arrogant arse. “There you go again,” he says. “Shooting me down.”
“You’re hardly an exotic bird, Gloatman. You can stomach a small dose of rejection. Might even do you good.”
“And that means?”
“That you’re way too confident and self-important.”
He laughs, the sound rich with frustration. “I’m sorry. Should I be more like you and require someone to be clapping for me at every step of the way?”
I scrunch my nose. “I don’t need that.”
“You absolutely do. And you don’t like me because I refuse to pander to your childish insecurities.”
Silence.
I realise at some point my jaw’s gone slack and I’m standing here with a ridiculous face, so I shake it out and draw my folded arms even closer to my body, as if I can somehow protect myself from his words.
He’s not right. Is he?
No . I don’t require recognition. Is it nice to receive it? Yes, of course.
James taps his foot, as if waiting for something. If he thinks he’s getting an apology he’s got another thing coming. Probably in the shape of a knee to the groin.
I can’t do this much longer. I certainly don’t think I can do another night in a tent with James. Now that might be the last straw.
Looking across the water, I try to measure the speed of the current, the distance to cross, the depth. It seems shallow enough. Maybe it is a good idea. A mad one. But it could get us to the castle quicker.
An upper body shiver consumes me in an uncomfortable way. It feels wrong. It feels like I’m making a bad decision. But maybe that’s just because it’s Gloatman’s idea. “Fine,” I say, defeatedly. “I’ll cross the damn river. But if I die, and I might, it will be your fault.”
James nods slowly. “I’m not going to let you die, that would be fairly counterproductive to this mission, wouldn’t you say?” He smirks. “But if for any reason you do die, I promise not to tell anyone about last night.”
I groan, exasperated. “Yeah, right.” I take my bag off my shoulders, have a sip from my bottle and consider how best to dress for this next step. I don’t want to get my trainers soaked through. My only other footwear is my poor, unfortunate red boots. They might be salvageable now, but submerging them in the river will certainly destroy all hope. The next issue is my trousers. They’re long, and I suspect there will be some swimming required.
“Strip down to your underwear,” James says, as if he can read my train of thought.
I laugh. He’s joking, obviously. I look at him. He’s joking , right? I flash him a what the fuck? face. “You’re kidding?”
But he’s already got his trousers off and is efficiently rolling them up into his bag. He stands before me in just his boxer shorts looking quite proud of himself. I only take a quick glance to see if there’s an outline. God, there actually is… and… it’s… Wow .
Look away, Fliss. Look away!
And damn the heat rushing into my cheeks.
“It’s the only way you’re going to keep your stuff dry,” he says. “We’ll get our bags across on a float of some sort. That way we’ll hopefully save them from getting drenched. Or at least the contents. The outer layer is waterproof anyway.”
“But I’ll freeze.”
“And then you’ll have dry clothing on the other side. You have spare underwear, right?”
“Yeah, but…”
“What?” James smirks at me in that patronising way again, except there’s a bit more softness to it this time. “Too shy?”
I blink, unsure how to respond. I’ve never prepared for this sort of argument. I’m not shy. Not fully clothed, anyway. However, I’m aware of my shorter-than-average legs and my slightly-wider-than-other-girls’ hips. I have relatively large breasts that I don’t know what to do with. And there’s a small, but noticeable, roll on my tummy. It’s not like I get time to do a ton of physical exercise outside of work.
James notices my hesitation and sighs. “Don’t be weird. You’ve got a great body.”
“Shut up, I don’t.” I sound too defensive. And wait, did he just compliment me?
Shaking his head, he slowly pulls his top off, pushing that into his bag too. There are a few moles dotted across his chest, abdomen and a noticeably large one on his hip. Maybe a birthmark. He has an amazing body. There’s a light smattering of dark hair along his chest with a thin line that leads all the way down…
“Come on now, Felicity, you’re making me blush,” he says with a grin. “You going to just stand there and gawk or shall we crack on?”
How have I found myself in this nightmare again?
I sigh, turning my back on him as I slide out of my trainers and pull my trousers down. My skin is pasty white. I really need to get out in the sun more this summer. Factor fifty at hand, of course.
James rummages through his bag behind me. Probably trying hard to sound busy in order to put me at ease. Annoyingly, he is right about the clothes situation. I don’t have a spare pair. I secretly curse Michael. What an arsehole! Why didn’t he pack me a spare pair of clothes? Did he foresee this? I fold my trousers, packing them into my bag, cringing inwardly at the thought of being stood a matter of metres away from James in just my short black briefs, complete with mini side-ribbons.
Then I slowly lift my top too, pushing my hair out of the way. As I don’t have a hairbrush, I know, even without a mirror, that my hair has expanded by about three times its usual fluffiness at this point. It’s unmanageable. Best left alone. Hopefully a bird doesn’t move in before we find a shower and hair straighteners. I don’t see the point in using the dry shampoo without a brush. Surely it will just make matters worse. As I pop my top into my bag, a cool trail of wind whisks across my front. It’s cold without even getting into the water. Luckily, there’s an opening in the clouds and the sun sneaks through, warming the top of my head.
Unfortunately, I’m wearing a bra that I would deem on the smaller side, pushing my boobs up. It’s not usually that noticeable when I’ve got a dress without a low cut or V-neck. I wore it because it suits the dress I had on. But out in the open like this, they’re hard to avoid. And by the look on James’ face as he swallows and blinks across the river, a slow blush creeping into his cheeks, he’s definitely noticed them.
Crap, crap, crap!
I slide into my trainers again, seeing as that’s what James has done, and hug myself as I wait for his next instructions. This is his idea after all. He looks at the bag and the small logs he’s managed to grab from the nearby trees behind us. It’s like he’s doing a mental puzzle.
“There’s no way you’re going to make a raft for the bags,” I say.
“Why do you doubt me so much?” he asks, mock offended.
He starts piling them into a rectangle shape, ripping the beige chinos he wore on his journey to Scotland and using the shreds to fasten the corners together. I wish he’d done this before I stripped down to my underwear. He keeps sneaking glances, and by the force of human nature, I can’t help doing the same to him.
Admittedly, I’ve always known he was a bit hot. Truthfully, I assumed he was out of my league. Not that I’d ever have gone there – dated a colleague. He’s not exactly boyfriend material anyway, what with all the rumours of his dating clients and stuff. I wonder if that’s just a fun rumour or if it’s true. Looking at the man before me, it’s almost laughable. He looks more boyish than manly, with his hair ruffling in the breeze as he kneels down to make his raft.
Finally, once he’s secured the bags and tied some more ripped-off strips together to form a loop to hold onto, he gives me a proud smile. Very boyish. Look how proud he is of his shitty raft. Let’s hope it’s up to the job.
“Right, you ready?” he asks.
“I guess so…”
James holds his arm out for me as if I’m going to hang onto him. I give him a funny look. “I don’t need your help.”
“You’re tiny and buoyant,” he says, giving me a once-over. “If you don’t hang onto me, you are going to float off down the river like a rubber dingy.”
“Hey!”
He laughs, shaking his head. “I’m sorry. It’s a compliment, honestly. And don’t shout at me for noticing. I’m a man, I can’t help it.”
I sigh. “I usually put them away.” But now I’m laughing too.
“I’m just saying.”
As if his joking around has somehow made me more relaxed, I link my arm through his. The step down into the water instantly floods my trainers and I gasp from the icy chill of the water. I can feel the current wading into me even at the shallow part.
Oh hell, what’s it going to be like further along?
The surface starts out crumbly, like a mixture of mud and pebbles. As we wade in further, there’s a lot of large rocks covered in algae on the riverbed. They’re slippery. I have to really think about where my next foot is going to land. James is focussed, trying to haul the bags over on his float. It appears to be heavier than he initially thought it would be. The current is pushing it downstream so forcefully he’s having to practically haul it along.
As the river reaches our waist height, I take a shuddery breath as the water races around my stomach. James rearranges us so that he’s protecting me from the majority of the current but he’s also trying to maintain a hold on the bags.
It’s all getting a little scary. I can feel my heart thumping in my chest. I’m panting. I can’t tell if it’s from panic, the effort or the cold.
“Keep going. That’s it,” James says, as softly as he can through gritted teeth. I can see he’s struggling. I can hear it in his breathing. His whole body is tense, wading one step at a time.
Then I drop. Out of nowhere my head is completely submerged. I panic. The floor of the riverbed has vanished. The water has me. I slip through James’ grip as my body is pulled downwards.