by Lindsey Hart
“So, you’ve never actually tried our socks?”
“Nope.
“That is going to change! I’m going to have a truckload delivered right to your house. Maybe we can even feature you in our next ad campaign. How we turned a sock hater into a sock lover.”
“Oh, so you’re going to tell the whole world how you turned me into a believer?” Steph laughs one of those real, head thrown back, shoulders shaking, nostrils flaring, lips puckering kind of laughs that would make anyone else look pretty strange.
But not her. No, not her. I’m starting to doubt she could ever be anything less than beautiful. I’ve noticed how confident she always is in her own skin. Never underestimate how sexy confidence can be. I’m starting to open my eyes and really see her.
“Okay. Let’s get the show on the road then. If we have to.”
I quickly lace up my boots as I say, “We have to.” I even lead the way.
It’s not hard to find the trail system that runs through the campground. Apparently, there are over eighty miles of trails. I pick one trailhead that the sign declares as easy to moderate in difficulty and is only a three miles round trip. We can handle three miles, can’t we?
Turns out, three miles is a really long way.
The trail has nice views, I’ll give it that, but it’s pretty steep, and if this is moderate, I wonder what they class as difficult? Scaling a waterfall against the water current? Climbing towering trees and scaling across on ropes with your bare hands?
It’s not that I’m not in shape. Because I am. The trail doesn’t physically exhaust me. It’s the shoes. My boots are new, and they’re pinching my toes and rubbing on the backs of my feet. I try to distract myself with the fact that we’re quite elevated, the trail actually overlooks the lake shining not so far in the distance, and even further away, there’s a picturesque landscape of hills and the silhouette of mountains.
I’m pretty sure we’re not even halfway through when Steph starts limping. At first, she tries to hide it, but pretty soon, it’s so obvious that even she has to stop. She doesn’t say anything. She just stops walking and stands there, breathing heavily and biting down on her bottom lip so hard that it turns bright red.
I pull up and study her. “I told you that you should have worn socks,” I say when she stays stubbornly silent. “Let me see. How bad is it?”
“I’m scared to look,” she whimpers. “My feet feel wet. I think they’re sweating, and that’s what made the boots rub against my feet.”
“Sit down. I’ll help you get them off.”
“No! I’m scared to look. And if I take them off, I know I won’t put them back on. Let’s just turn around. We can look when we get back.”
“That’s ridiculous.” I can literally see Steph deciding that she’s not going to listen to me. I walk over and bend down, kneeling at her feet. “Come on. Sit down. I’ll carry you back if I have to, but I’m not going to let you go on like that. I bet your feet are destroyed.”
“Thanks.”
“Socks would help.”
“Can you shut it about socks?”
I glance up, but I can see just the slightest tilt to Steph’s lips. She obviously doesn’t hate me as much as she’s pretending to right now.
“Alright. But if I shut it about socks, as you so delicately put it, you’re going to sit down and let me get those boots off.”
She still hesitates, and it looks like she’s weighing her options. What those are, I can’t imagine, because carrying on like that shouldn’t be one of them. “Fine,” she huffs. She parks herself right in the middle of the trail. It doesn’t seem to have rained in a while, and it’s so dusty that a puff of dirt flies up when she sits down. She looks away from me and crosses her arms.
The tough act doesn’t fool me because I can see how much pain she’s in. Her face is tight with it, and she’s practically chewing off her bottom lip with her top teeth. Watching her do that makes something in my gut clench. My groin area feels hot and shivery at the same time, and it’s like my dick was just dipped in freezing lava. Can lava even be freezing? No, but frozen lava actually turns into some sort of rock. And that’s how rock hard it feels down there.
I slowly work the laces off and even more slowly and gently ease the boot from Steph’s foot. I notice how small her feet are. Probably just a size six or seven. I also notice, when the boot comes off, that everything was feeling wet in there because her feet are a bloody mess.
Literally.
There’s blood. Everywhere.
She still hasn’t looked, and I’m pretty sure the blood is just from a few blisters on her toes, heels, the top of her foot, and the sides. Well, okay, pretty much everywhere as well. The wounds are superficial, but it has to hurt. I’m worried she’ll turn, see her foot, and pass out.
Thankfully, I brought a water bottle with me. It’s strapped to this ridiculous belt that Steph bought. I pull it off, rip the stopper open, and pour some water over her foot.
“Jesus cheesus,” she curses at me. Her head whips around, and of course, her breath catches. I wait for the freakout, the meltdown, the fainting. But it never comes.
She stays perfectly silent even after I take the other boot off and bathe that foot too. It’s not as bad as the other foot, but it’s still pretty nasty.
When I’m done, I collect Steph’s boots. “Let me carry you,” I command as she shakily gets to her feet.
“No way,” she pouts. “I’ll walk back barefoot.”
“No, absolutely not. Let me at least give you a piggyback. You’re so light and tiny that I probably wouldn’t even feel you there.”
She rolls her eyes at me, but there’s a flash of displeasure too. Like pointing out that she’s light was an insult though it wasn’t. She might be slight, but Steph is also womanly. People come in all shapes and sizes, and just because she isn’t overly curvy and doesn’t have a huge butt or big boobs doesn’t mean she’s not a freaking ten.
Wait! What?!
Did I really think she’s a ten? Did I just notice her like that? Again? For real? Not just in the scheme of the schemy scheme of things?
Steph ignores me completely. She lets out a huff and starts walking back in the direction we just came from. The thing about Steph is even if she’s angry or insulted or doesn’t like someone, I’ve never heard her say anything bad about them. Her calling my ex-wife a butt crack is about as bad as it gets. And that might just be pointing out a fact, at least in her mind.
I’m not sure what’s going through her head, but she whirls around on the narrow trail, which kind of scares me, because we’re pretty high up, and it’s a pretty sharp drop off the edge onto some boulders and trees below. Her mouth is open and intent on giving me a piece of whatever is hitting her brain at the moment, but then she stops. Her mouth twists open in horror, and her eyes become extra wide.
“There’s a snake!” Her hand shoots out, and she points. To a spot. Right. In. Front. Of. Me.
I slowly look down as if I might startle it. And yup, sure enough. There’s a snake there, and no, it’s not my snake but an honest to god snake. It’s small and black with a sort of yellow stripe down its back. Its tongue flicks out as it coils itself into a serpentine shape, and I can tell it’s tasting the air. Most likely tasting to see if it can maybe get a taste of me. Jesus Christ, why did I ever bring us out here?
“I have bare feet,” Steph states flatly though her voice shakes a little. “It could come at me. It could bite me. It could kill me.”
“It looks small,” I point out. “It’s probably not even venomous, and it doesn’t have a rattle on the tail. That’s a good thing.”
“How the freak would you know?”
Right. So, of course, I wouldn’t know. I mean, I know it’s not a rattlesnake, but I don’t know for sure that it’s not venomous. I don’t know what to do. The snake isn’t moving. Should I just jump over it? Back up? Step over it? No, I definitely shouldn’t step over it. It could very well strike up my pant
leg, past my boots, and into my leg. Or bite me right through my pant leg.
Fuck. This is squirrely. Or rather, snaky.
“Go around it,” Steph hisses. She points to the edge of the trail. It’s basically the edge of the cliff, considering how high up we are, although it’s not high enough to kill you if you fell. It’ll probably just bruise you badly or maybe produce a couple of broken bones.
“Okay.” I grip her boots tightly in my hand. Is this a bad time to admit that I’m afraid of heights?
I skirt towards the edge and stare the snake down. It still doesn’t move. It’s all good. Everything’s good. Until the edge gives way under my boots, and I feel the dirt crumble, that is. I launch myself forward as everything literally gets rocky beneath my feet, but I’m no match for nature or gravity—hell, maybe it’s karma—or whatever forces are at work. I flail my arms wildly, trying to rock forward, but of course, that only throws me back faster.
The last thing I see before I topple over is Steph’s face contorted in a scream, and the blasted snake launching itself in the air, coiling gracefully and sailing—like a goddamn bird or a superhero in disguise—straight over the edge after me.
CHAPTER 5
Stephanie
Well, holy freaking shit.
That really just happened. Adam seriously just fell over the side of the trail, and the snake went after him. I scramble over to the edge and peer over, afraid I’ll see Adam’s broken body at the bottom of some gorge, but it’s only about a two feet drop down to the rocky part below. Thank goodness he fell there because there’s an even sharper drop after that flatter part. It’s not like we’re hundreds of feet up or anything, but the bottom below us—where the grass, trees, and more rocks are—is probably a good twenty feet. But not straight down. If you rolled, the big trees would probably break your fall, or maybe break you.
Adam’s slowly sitting up, which is a good sign. He missed a huge tree and didn’t get taken out by that, but he did obviously hit his head on one of the rocks sticking out the side or maybe even out of the forested area where he landed. This whole area is rock. Rock and moss. Rock and dirt. Rock and trees. Rocks which are grey and sharp looking in some spots, flat in others. Some have veins of different colors running through it, and it’s pretty, whatever it is, just like the trees. They’re pretty too, even if I’m not entirely sure what kind they are either.
The snake is gone. I’m sure it was non-venomous, but I’ll have to look it up when we get back to the main part of the campground, and I have some cell service again.
“Jesus,” I say as I loom over the edge, staring down at Adam. He lifts a hand to his forehead and grimaces when he realizes he’s bleeding—a lot.
The cut could be deceptively small as I’ve heard head wounds bleed a lot, which is what his wound is doing. Bleeding. All over the place. It’s trickling down his eyebrows, his nose, and over his lips. It’s right above his left brow, close to the bridge of his nose. The carnage going on is pretty amazing—amazingly gross. I hate blood. I can practically smell the sharp metallic tang from up here. Barf-o-la. My stomach agrees, sloshing around like I’m riding a roller coaster. For some reason, roller coasters always make me super sick. I found out the hard way twice, and after that, I opted not to ride one ever again.
“You kind of took a leap of faith there.” It’s all I can think to say to distract him from the massive amount of blood still dripping from his wound. God. There’s. So. Much. Blood.
What a pair we are. Me with my dirty, bleeding, and blistered feet, and Adam, bleeding all over the place from his head gash. He still hasn’t said anything. Is it because he knocked himself senseless or because he’s in too much pain? Maybe he’s just seriously pissed. Or really embarrassed.
“Are you ready to have that beer yet?”
That’s the magic word. Adam still grimaces, but he snorts and shoves himself to his feet. “Yeah,” he mutters. “That sounds like a good idea. Let’s find somewhere to buy a case.”
“A twelve-pack?”
“More like a twenty-four.”
“I’m sure there’s an off-sale around here. It’s a campground. Don’t people go camping just to drink?”
“I wouldn’t know.”
“Do you want me to come down there and help you up?”
“No. No, I don’t want you to come down here. Just stay right there. And if you see any more snakes, stay away from them and the edge.”
“Okay. Point taken.” I back up a couple of steps.
Adam’s a little shaky on his feet when he first takes a few steps, but then he recovers quickly. He keeps one hand pressed to the cut on his forehead. It must hurt, but at least it slows the bleeding down. With the other, he fairly nimbly climbs up the side. He grabs at rocks, trees, and shrubs, whatever he can find. He’s so fit that he makes it look easy. If it were me, I think I would have fallen back down a hundred times from trying. I would probably have died right on the spot if the snake came after me and also from seeing that much blood coming from my own forehead. It makes me panic just watching him climb up even though he moves surely and steadily. I want him to be okay. I mean, who’s going to give me the ten grand if he dies? Yeah, no, that’s not the only reason. I’m just trying to put on a brave face and be sarcastic since that’s what I usually turn to in times of trauma and distress.
“My boots…” I look back over the edge when Adam joins me on the path sans boots. They were in his hands when he went over.
“I’ll carry you.”
“Absolutely not! We had this discussion already. And you’re bleeding. A lot.” Thank goodness I have a sports bra on because when I take my tank top off, it just looks like I’m ready for some serious jogging or to hit the beach. Given that I don’t have shoes, the beach seems logical.
Adam stares at me strangely for a minute. He’s doing that thing where I can tell he’s trying not to look at me, which just makes him look harder. I feel weird, because no, I’ve never stood in front of my boss in nothing but shorts and a sports bra, but then I remember his ex-wife looked like a goddess, and I’m Celery Stephanie. He’s probably just trying to focus his vision after that nasty blow to the head.
“Here…” I ignore the fact that my stomach feels strange, and my hands are trembling. It’s just the blood. I’m so close to all that blood. “Let me wrap this around your head. You can’t walk back all that way, holding your hand there. If it keeps bleeding, you won’t be able to see either. And it’s disturbing and probably a beacon for all the wild animals in this whole place. I swear bears get blood lust.”
“What’s with you and bears?”
“Snakes then. Raccoons. Skunks. Rodents. I don’t know. I’m sure something can smell all that metal tang, and they’ll come for us.”
“Doubtful.”
“Just let me wrap it around your forehead. You can’t walk all that way with blood spurting out every single step.”
“Does it look badass?”
“No. It looks disgusting. Now bend down.”
He finally does, bending his knees a little bit so I can reach up and tie my shirt around his head. It barely fits, but I do manage to secure it by looping the straps together.
“I hope no one sees us walking into the campground like this. They’ll probably call the cops or something.”
“There’s a public bathroom right by the trail. We could clean up there.”
“Good thinking. I could use another shower.”
Adam rolls his eyes, and we set off. I let him lead. I follow behind him because I’m scared to let him out of my sight. I’m afraid he’ll blackout and pitch right over the edge again. Thankfully, he stays pretty close to the safe part of the path—the part without a massive drop off the side. I keep watch just in case he gets all shaky or faint, but he doesn’t. The cut must be pretty small, and the head wound just a graze because he walks with just as much confidence as before. I, on the other hand, limp along with my poor, painful feet.
And I so don’t use Ad
am’s beautiful, denim-clad ass to distract myself from the misery I’m currently enduring. Although if I did, he’d deserve it for dragging me out here. For making me hike even though I hate hiking. For my poor feet. Okay, so that one’s on me because I’m pretty sure he was right about the socks.
By the end of the trail, I decide on two things. One, I am excited about my second shower, or at least my feet are, even if the water and soap are going to sting like a bitch. And two, this campground better have some sort of alcohol for sale somewhere. I don’t normally drink, and I don’t even like beer, but right about now, a beer sounds like heaven.
CHAPTER 6
Adam
So, it’s dark now. We’re sitting in the tent on our air mattresses, drinking beers like this is our only chance. We started outside, but neither of us wanted to try to get a fire going after the day we’d already had, and the bugs were so bad that they chased us indoors.
I don’t usually drink much at all, but my head is throbbing away from the nasty cut. It turned out to be pretty small, but damn, it hurts with the intensity of an angry fire. Like as if someone opened up my skin and stuffed leftover fire bits in there that were still glowing red hot. Right, coals. That’s what they’re called. My brain is, thankfully, still somewhat functioning.
In the last couple of hours, I’ve actually come up with a new sock design. It’ll have a mountain edge, a forest background, and a flying snake. I’m sure they’ll be a bestselling pattern.
The beers help. I’m not sure how many I’ve had, but enough to take the edge off and enough to hardly feel the pain at all. Steph, being so much smaller, is surprisingly able to hold her own. Maybe her feet hurt, or perhaps she’s thirsty. I’m guessing she’d like to get drunk and forget all about this stupid camping trip. If I had to pick, I’d go with the latter.
“Do you want another bologna, cheese, and pickle delicacy?” she asks as she sets her beer down on the ground beside the air mattress. She’s still wearing the same shorts, but she put a fresh tank on after she showered and got back to the tent.