Page 96 of Camp Bliss
“No.”
I flinch at the hard word.
“No? You don’t want to w—”
“No.” His own helmet is on the ground at his feet, and he scrapes his fingers into his thick mane, almost yanking his hair from the roots. He looks ready to explode. And as freaked out as I am, I’m also worried for him.
I soften my voice. “Are you okay?”
His flashfire gaze hits mine with so much force, I jolt.
“Areyou?”The question is just this side of accusatory. It throws me.
“I-I-I don’t know.”
A muscle jumps in Zach’s jaw, and for the briefest moment, his eyes narrow at me. Like I’ve disappointed him. But it’s gone in a flash and he shrugs roughly. “Me neither.” He tears his focus away and throws himself into picking up our gear. “Let me see to my parents. We’ll talk later.”
And then his back is to me, his long strides eating up the distance to the trailhead.
I stand there, half expecting to look down and see my chest torn open.
What just happened?
My nose stings. The sight of him walking away has fear clawing my heart.
And then Zach stops.
He stands there at the trailhead, his back to me, tension etching his shoulders. He turns around to face me. He’s still frowning, but instead of the frustrated scowl, it’s his worried frown.
“Look, Greta, we’re good, okay? We don’t have to make anything weird.”
Yep, that’s definitely my chest ripping open.
I open my mouth to respond, but it’s powder dry.
I lick my lips. They still taste like him. I swallow hard. “O-Okay.” The sound is nothing, so I nod briskly and somehow lift the corners of my mouth to squeeze out a smile. It’s anemic.
In return, he gives me one that is just as vitamin deficient and lifts his hand in a half wave before he turns and steps onto the trail.
Even though I can still hear the crunch of his footsteps through the leaf mold, the trees swallow up the sight of him in a matter of seconds.
I sink to my heels and clutch my head in both hands. “What the fuck have I done?”
I replay every moment since my feet touched the ground after I traversed the catwalk.Iwas the one who hugged him.Imade that move. And there was a moment—a lag—before he hugged me back.
And then I held onto him like a baby howler monkey.
“Oh my God,” I groan, covering my face.
Did I misread that look? The one he gave my mouth like it was his own personal landing pad?
What if I did? What if that look was just—I don’t know—consternationabout how close we were.
And then I plowed him over with my mouth.
Talk about breakout behaviors.
I shoot up and start pacing the clearing.
