Chapter 21 Thorn
Tonight, we get to stay in one of my favorite places in the entire trail network: Alexandria Flat, an expansive, rocky clearing where we’ll sleep under the stars.
The night sky is always unbelievable there, a billion pinpricks of light amid surprising shades of dark teal and lavender, the Milky Way on full display.
A sheer cliff juts high into the horizon at the far end of the flats, a massive waterfall spilling down its center; we’ll rappel down the cliffs tomorrow.
There’s also a cave behind the waterfall—I can’t wait to show it to Sadie.
The group, I mean. I can’t wait to show it to the group.
Today has been exhausting.
Not on the hiking front—it’s my mind that’s been a battleground. I’ve been hypervigilant, on high alert for anything that might prove tricky or dangerous.
In good news, no one has come anywhere close to having another accident.
In not-so-good news, things that usually come so easily have been a lot harder today.
Most days, I never have to remind myself to engage with the others about landmarks and wildlife we pass along the way, and all of my familiar catchphrases—step here, watch out for that branch, remember your sunscreen and bug spray, don’t forget to hydrate—come out on instinct.
Today has been a struggle.
The harder I try to stay hypervigilant, the more my thoughts wander to the two dueling forces vying for my attention: Sadie and Matteo.
Matteo pulled me aside last night after s’mores.
“We need to talk,” he said, unsmiling.
Na?vely, I assumed we were on the verge of some sort of heart-to-heart—a follow-up from our conversation by the stream earlier this week, or maybe him breaking down about his breakup with Blair. I pictured him groveling for my support since Blair ditched both of us in the exact same way.
What he actually said caught me off guard.
“What’s going on with you and Sadie?” he asked instead, before proceeding to make all sorts of accusations: that my head had been in the clouds all day—that if I hadn’t been so absorbed in chatting with Sadie, I would have warned Brittany to watch her step, and she wouldn’t have almost fallen over the edge.
Basically, he jabbed his finger right into the open wound of the insecurities that had already been plaguing me ever since the incident.
“Nothing,” I told him, as if I could hide the feelings that have started working their way into my heart like stubborn weeds.
“Right,” he scoffed. For a moment, I thought he might have seen even more than how Sadie and I had been chatting each other up on the trail—had he seen us at the gazebo? Or, worse, coming back from the shower?
If he did, he didn’t call me on it.
“Well, you need to get it together, man,” is all he said.
Never, for as long as we’ve known each other, has Matteo initiated a conversation with me—with anyone—that was anywhere close to confrontational. The fact that it happened at all feels as unsettling as his actual words. It’s not like him.
Also: Does he think I’m not already feeling terrible about what happened with Brittany?
Shouldn’t he know me well enough to know I’ve had a guilt trip going through my head ever since the incident, telling me I should have been more vigilant about keeping everyone safe—and that I’m already paranoid about how distracted I’ve been?
I think he knows all of this and decided to give me shit about it anyway.
The worst part is, he has a point.
There was no way I could take Sadie up on her offer after that—especially since Matteo was watching me like a hawk. I couldn’t let him see me climbing into her tent, as much as I wanted to.
So I slept outside.
Woke before dawn.
Ran three miles, even though we had a long hike ahead of us today.
And then, just as soon as I thought my head had cleared enough for me to step up like the leader I’m supposed to be, I ran into Sadie at the Little Free Library—and all the feelings I’d tried to snuff out with logic and discipline came blazing back as soon as I saw her standing there, looking down at the pile of her stuff.
If you’d asked me on Day One what I thought Sadie Whitlock would get out of this experience, I would have confidently told you she was destined for confirmation that she is not cut out for the outdoors.
No one is as surprised as I am to see how wrong I was.
I’ve been thinking about it all day. About her.
About her stash of coffee stuff, about the ceramic mug she drinks out of every morning—she told me once, adorably, that the little happy-face sun made her feel a little less afraid of being out here in nature.
I couldn’t just let her leave it all behind.
It’s been burning a hole in my pack all day. I circled back at the last second before we left camp, tucked the mug and her coffee stuff inside when I was sure she wasn’t looking.
Ever since, it’s been a constant battle to rein in my thoughts; whenever they drift to Sadie, Matteo’s words drag me right back down to earth. Over and over, all day long—
You need to get it together, man.
When we finally make it to our campsite, it will be sweet relief.
Alexandria Flat is one of my favorite places for a reason.
There’s just something so breathtaking about these cliffs, their faces imposing and severe, and the roaring waterfall that divides them almost perfectly in half—the view is even more majestic than the lake where we camped for the kayaking segment of the trip.
Especially now, at sunset, with the way the brilliant orange light glints off the surface of the water, it feels like the last moments before a movie starts, when the lights dim to prepare you for the real show.
Out here, the entire night sky is the theater.
“We have a special stargazing opportunity tonight for anyone who wants to sleep out in the open,” I tell the group when we’ve all reconvened after dinner and downtime.
Even at a bit of a distance, I have to speak up over the crash of Moonbow Falls at my back.
“Once the sun goes down, it usually gets a little chilly—we’ve got hot cocoa packets and extra handwarmers if you need one.
You’re welcome to set your tents up, but I’d like to personally challenge you to spend the night out here in the open—you can thank me in the morning! ”
I go over a few details about how rappelling will work tomorrow: Matteo and I are both certified (as is Trey, apparently), no one is obligated to participate, we’ll start midmorning for anyone who’s interested.
A few people opt to set up their tents when we disperse—Sadie included.
Only now do I realize my vision for tonight involved her sleeping bag right next to mine, both of us sipping on hot cocoa, maybe even sharing a blanket before we tuck in to sleep…if we can get away with any of that without calling too much attention to ourselves.
I’ve only ever seen one guide get fired for getting involved with a guest—Brad, a year ago—and he’s the reason the rule exists at all.
Brad had a pattern of hooking up with people at the expense of doing his job well.
Three groups in a row, the post-hike surveys were full of comments saying he was distractible and downright irresponsible at times.
Even if people were to make similar comments about me, I’m the most reliable guide Danica’s got, and she knows it. Not that I ever want to abuse that—I’m just saying, she’d probably be more curious than angry if she found out I’d developed feelings for someone.
I make my way over to Sadie, feeling Matteo’s eyes on me as I pass—he’s helping Zoe with her tent, and I’d hoped he’d be too busy with her to notice me.
Apparently not.
“You’re not sleeping outside?” I ask Sadie quietly, hoping I don’t sound as disappointed as I feel.
She pokes her head out of her tent, smiles. “Oh, no—I am.”
“Why’d you set up, then?” I ask.
“Promise not to make fun of me?”
“I’m not sure that’s a promise I can make,” I reply, crouching down so we’re face-to-face. “Tell me, Sadie—why would I make fun of you?”
“Number one, I don’t want to change into my pajamas in front of the whole world.
And number two…I guess…it just feels weird not to?
Like it’s just part of the routine we’ve had every night, setting up the tent.
Having a place that’s only mine makes me feel a little more settled out here.
And maybe I’m low-key afraid that it’ll start pouring on us and we’ll need a place to take shelter? ”
There’s not a cloud in the sky, but I decide against pointing that out.
“Why would I have made fun of you for that?” I ask instead.
Her cheeks turn pink in the glow of her touch lamp.
“I’m a creature of habit, I guess? I take comfort in routine, even if it doesn’t totally make sense—I like knowing I’m prepared for anything.
” She glances down at her mismatched nails, then back up at me with a look so vulnerable I can’t tear my eyes away.
“Some people would tell me it’s dumb or unnecessary. ”
Sadie’s words hang between us. The way she’s phrased it makes me think someone specific made her feel bad about that in the past.
Again, I feel the unfamiliar urge to throw a punch. What a jackass.
“You need what you need,” I tell her now. “That’s all there is to it.”
Personally, I think she needs the comfort of familiarity far less than she realizes…but I suspect that’s something she’ll have to figure out for herself.
“Want me to take your sleeping bag?” I offer. “Save you a spot?”
“Only if you’re sure you don’t want to spend the night in the tent,” Sadie says, flipping seamlessly from unguarded to flirtatious.
“As tempting as that sounds,” I tell her, matching her tone, so close my lips brush against her ear, “I cannot be held responsible for you missing tonight’s sky.”
“We can still do tent things under the stars, if you want?” she says, then presses a kiss so quick and light onto my collarbone that I very truly may have hallucinated it.
I’m tempted to take it all back: forget the stars, and the sky, and everyone who might possibly care.
It’ll be a miracle if I last an hour without giving in.
Maybe that wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe I’m overthinking all of this, maybe it would actually be good for me—it’s been so long since I’ve had a connection of any sort out here, let alone one like this, that I forgot what it felt like for my cracked heart to be anything but still as stone.
Sadie makes me feel alive.
“Give me ten minutes,” she says, her breath hot on my skin. “I’ll meet you there.”