“I think I have it trapped,” Logan said. “Can you try to come this way now?”
“You think?”
The branch shook beneath his fingers. Logan adjusted his grip, positioning his other hand to help keep the creature trapped. “You need to hurry. I don’t know how long this will hold it. It might be able to dig through the branches.”
The girls hesitated only a moment before sidestepping around the tent and toward him. The rustling protests behind the branch continued, getting more frenzied by the minute.
Finally the girl with the auburn hair made it out, squeezing past Logan with a hand pressing into the back of his thin tank, its unexpected warmth giving him the chills. A moment later the blonde squeezed past.
“Now run!” Logan said, taking only a moment to glance over his shoulder before dropping the branch and hurrying after them. “Go toward the water!” They had already started that direction, and he hoped the creature would retreat to its home in the woods and leave them alone.
The girls were fast, and they made it to the water’s edge before he did. Logan’s feet landed the last few paces in hard thuds as he met them. Shaking with adrenaline and near-giddy relief, all three of them let out breaths in bursts of exclamation. The blonde was clutching her chest with a hand, panting roughly. The other girl was bent in half clutching her abdomen, her auburn hair waterfalling to the ground and dancing with her trembles.
“Are you okay?” Logan asked.
She flipped her hair back with a sudden burst of laughter. “Oh my word! That was insane.”
Charged with relief, a laugh slipped from Logan’s own mouth, surprising him.
“Is it following us?” the blonde asked.
Logan glanced back toward the campsite. Even from here, he could see the blue tent shaking. The end of the tree limb still stuck out from the tent opening, and it looked like it was being thrust around a bit. He blew out a breath. “I think we’re good. We should probably keep an eye on the site until we see it leave, though.”
He glanced back at the girls.
The auburn-headed one had smoothed her long hair away from her face and was studying him with concentrating eyes that suddenly widened with recognition. “Professor Henry?”
Logan blinked, for the first time taking in the heart-shaped face, thin chin, and narrow, blue eyes. “Violet?”
“Oh my word! I can’t believe it’s you! What are the odds?”
What, indeed. Logan’s mind shuffled like cards in a deck, flicking past clipped memories from when he’d worked at the University of Colorado. Encounters he’d tried to forget, spilled emotions he’d left behind. He stepped back a little too abruptly, his eyes darting back to the tent.
Violet was smiling, her expression pure surprise and good humor, like her bad fortune had just improved. Logan felt his own serenity dripping away.
“Oh, no!” Violet’s hand reached toward Logan’s cheek and he jumped, simultaneously jerking his head and stumbling backward.
Her eyes softened, her mouth a dancing, merry line. “Calm down, it’s just me. You’re bleeding. Did you get hurt?”
“No, I was shaving—”
She leaned down to dip the cuff of her sweatshirt into the flowing stream, then stepped back to his side. “Hold still.” Cold wetness stung his cut as she dabbed at his jaw line with her sleeve. Perfect, white teeth bit at her lip while she worked, eyes intent, her delicate nose inches from his face. He froze, fighting the instinct to inhale nervously.
“You’re going to stain your shirt,” he said without inflection, trying to keep his jaw as still as possible.
She shrugged. “Not a big deal. It’s not a good one.” There was some humor in her voice, her playful tone hinting the absurdity of the statement. Logan guessed her meaning. She’d always been well off and didn’t mind flaunting it.
“Okay. Finished.” She let her hand drop but didn’t pull back, savoring their nearness. Her eyes roved from the cut along his cheek and landed onto his own. “I’m glad we ran into each other again.”
Logan couldn’t echo the sentiment. Just seeing Violet made his claustrophobia ten times more intense than Harold’s party had, even with all of Cheryl’s flirtations. Those memories from years back came again, squeezing him on every side.
Violet’s hair had been shaped in a bouncy bob back then, and her cheeks had been a hint rounder—which was probably why he hadn’t recognized her immediately—but even with the years of maturation, she had the same youthful quality. He cleared his throat and took a step backward, taking care to make it casual.
“It’s been what…five years?” she asked.
He took a breath to answer, though he didn’t know what he was going to say, but she beat him to it, glancing at her friend. “Holly, this is Professor Henry from U of C.” She chuckled to herself. “I guess I can call you Logan now. You aren’t my teacher anymore.”
Logan’s back stiffened. He forced a polite smile and nodded at Holly, who was trying to smooth out her tangled hair with her fingertips and managed to return only an annoyed grimace. She threw a glance back toward the tent. “How long is that thing gonna be in there? I need my hairbrush.”
Violet flapped a hand toward Holly. “You look fine. Don’t worry about it. It’s not like anyone is even awake to see you except us.” She glanced Logan’s way. “And Logan’s way above judging someone based on bedhead.”
“I don’t care how it looks,” Holly muttered. “I can’t stand feeling the tangles.”
“How did that thing get inside your tent?” Logan asked, relieved to steer the conversation away from the past.
“Yeah?” Violet faced Holly, her thin brows pulling together delicately. “I zipped it shut before I went to bed last night. Did you leave in the middle of the night or something?”
Holly yawned and gave up working on her hair. “I had to pee.”
“And then you left the door open?”
“Guess I forgot. I was pretty tired.”
“It must’ve smelled your food,” Logan said. “Did you have containers open?”
Holly shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe.”
“That was the freakiest thing that’s ever happened to me,” Violet said, shaking her head.
“Look!” Holly pointed toward the tent where the limb seemed to have been pushed farther outward. The badger came waddling out, looking like it had used up most of its energy in its escape. It made for the trees without hesitating or sending even a glance their way.
Logan took a few steps toward the site, but Violet gripped the crook of his elbow. “Shouldn’t we wait a sec—just to make sure it’s not lurking or whatever?”
“It looked pretty worn out,” Logan said.
“I just…” she bit her lip. “It looked pretty dangerous. Do you think we should take the risk?”
Logan studied her. Whenever his eyes met hers, something in her seemed to expand and illuminate, like his gaze had the power to direct a current of energy inside her. It reminded him how easy it had been to be her friend from day one. The memory made his palms sweat. “We’ll give it a couple of minutes,” he said.
He eased to his left, leaning against a nearby tree as casually as he could, using it as an excuse to pull away from her grasp. After a few seconds of silence, he gave up avoiding her gaze. “So, you go camping much? I didn’t realize you were the type.”
Violet’s expression brightened, sending a pang of self-directed irritation through him as he realized the familiarity his words assumed. She would read into that, take it to mean he’d spent time thinking about her.
“Never,” she said. “And I don’t think I will again.”
“We should just go home now,” Holly said in something of a whine. “Camping sucks.”
“You’re missing the point,” Violet said in a chiding tone. “We’re not camping because it’s fun. We’re camping to show that we can handle it. We’re strong, independent women and we don’t need to be coddled. We can conquer the wild on our own.”<
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Logan bit back a comment about how staying at a public campground had nothing to do with being in the wild.
Holly rolled her eyes. “You’re just trying to prove to Brad you’re not a wuss.”
Violet’s face came alive with sudden fury, a molten force that lay unseen beneath. It made Logan’s spine tingle.
“This has nothing to do with Brad,” Violet said through her teeth.
“Whatever.” Holly folded her arms and strode toward the camp site. “I’m going to see what that beast ruined.”
Logan pushed off the tree, still feeling Violet’s reluctance but not wanting to be left alone with her. “Sounds good. Let’s check it out.”
She followed, jogging to catch up with his hurried stride.
They met Holly and reached the tent together. Logan grabbed the end of the tree branch and tugged hard, wrenching it free. He tossed it aside, and the girls crawled into the tent.
Holly let out a curse from inside the tent.
“What?” Logan asked.
“The damn thing ate all my Atkins bars.”
“And your Slimfast shakes are a dripping mess in the corner,” Violet said. “Gross.” She pulled off the oversized sweatshirt and crawled out of the tent wearing only a tight-fitting tank top and the flannel shorts. She tossed a pair of flip-flops on the ground and stepped into them.
Holly was griping to herself about what else the badger had gotten into.
“Any rips in the tent?” Logan asked.
“I didn’t see any,” Violet said. “I guess it was more interested in our food and then getting past the branch.” She gave him an appreciative nod. “That was really good thinking, by the way.” Her smile was sweet in a way that might stir another man below the belt. It made him slightly nauseous.
Holly cursed again and exited the tent with a ball cap pulled over her hair. She slid on some sandals and looked at Violet. “I’m going to the store for more Slimfast. You coming?”
“It’s like six in the morning,” Violet said. “Are you going all the way into town?”
“Hopefully not. I’ll check the nearest convenience store first.”
“I’d rather not go into public like this.” Violet gestured at her attire. Almost as if the tangles had simply fallen out, her hair was now sleek and shiny, and she looked as if she were doing a shoot for a Victoria Secret pajama commercial—her legs smooth, lightly toned, and miles long beneath the shorts. Logan turned his gaze to the forest.
“Can I have your keys then?” Holly asked.
“They’re in my bag,” Violet said.
Holly grunted something and poked around in the tent until she found the keys. “You want anything?”
“I’m good. Just let me grab the cooler from the car first.”
When Holly left, a sense of unease clamped itself around Logan’s midsection. “Well, looks like you’re okay,” he said. “I guess I’ll be—”
Violet’s lips puckered into a slight pout. “Will you stay with me? Until Holly gets back at least? I feel like I’m still in shock from the whole thing.” She blew out an exaggerated sigh, her shoulders trembling slightly.
“Uh, sure.”
Her smile was alight with energy. It was the same vibrance that had caught him off guard five years ago, that had sunk its fangs under his skin so swiftly. One moment she’d been a struggling student seeking help from her teacher, the next she was a bundle of youthful exuberance that had nearly knocked the wind out of him—the unsocial, standoffish professor.
“Great. You can help me make breakfast. I bet you’re great at starting a fire.” The undertones in her voice suggested ideas Logan didn’t want to entertain. He wondered if the innuendo had been accidental and briefly considered that maybe Violet was no longer the naive young woman she’d been. A lot could happen in five years.
An hour later they were sitting in front of a blazing fire enjoying a batch of fresh scrambled eggs.
“This is where you used to go, isn’t it?” Violet said between bites.
Logan arched a brow at her.
“Whenever you went off on your camping escapades. It just hit me that this is probably where you went.”
“Not this campground,” he said. “But in the area, yeah. I typically stuck to backwoods camping. There are a lot of nice spots around here.” He let his gaze wander across the park, watching the eastern sun climb, coating everything in amber flares.
When he met her eyes again, her head was tilted as if she were studying him, eyes narrowed and hair bobbing slightly. “Yeah. I can see that, now. Don’t know why I didn’t think of it back then.”
A question rose in his mind, a warning pricking him. Had she tried to find him? He asked another one instead. “You graduated from the U of C?”
“Two years ago. Worked in the history department at first, but it wasn’t a good fit.” She occupied herself with stabbing eggs with her plastic fork. “I decided to take a year off—some time to focus on other things and enjoy being free.”
“No school, no work?”
“Exactly.”
“Sounds nice,” Logan said. “Sounds expensive.”
“It wasn’t bad. I didn’t have to get a roommate or anything. I could afford it.”
Knowing her history, Logan read between the lines. Mom and Dad could afford it.
“Anyway, I’ve decided it’s time to get a new routine. I started looking for a job a few weeks ago. I’m not in a hurry or anything—just taking my time, evaluating my contacts and all that.”
“Sounds like a good plan.”
Finished with her food, Violet set down her plate and turned her knees toward him, edging her camping chair closer. She leaned her head on a fist as if settling in for a fascinating conversation. “So what’s Logan Henry been up to the last five years?”
“Same old. Nothing to tell, really.”
“There’s got to be something new. I mean, you aren’t at U of C anymore—you left Boulder, didn’t you?”
“Yeah.”
“You’re still teaching, though? Molding those eager, young minds with your abundant wisdom?”
Logan tried to force a chuckle, but was fairly certain it came out as more of a grimace. “Something like that.”
“You always were a great teacher. If it wasn’t for you, I might not have graduated.”
Logan frowned. “That can’t be true. I worked with you your first year, but it sounds like you did just fine after that.”
“Still, that first year was big, you know? And Latin class?” She blew out a breath. “That was something else.”
“A lot of people have a hard time with Latin.”
She chuckled. “Oh, I understood it just fine. I just thought it was a crapload of boring. But you made all that endurable.”
That pin prick inside him again. If she’d understood the material, why had she been failing? Now that he considered it, her grades had improved drastically after the midterm. He’d assumed it had been his tutelage, but maybe she hadn’t needed his help so badly in the first place.
“I mean, you have such a great teaching style.”
“Thanks.” Logan cleared his throat and looked away. A warm hand landed on his knee. He tensed.
“Why did you leave, anyway?” When Violet spoke, her voice was soft. “I know it was hard for you there. I mean, none of the staff really got you. I was really glad I could, you know, be there for you.”
“It wasn’t my best year.” He hated how his voice sounded—dry and husky, like he was revealing something intimate. Abruptly he stood, crumpling his plate and reaching for the trash. When he returned, she was watching him. He stopped a pace away from her, staring into the fire, wondering how they’d got here, how she’d reeled him in so fast.
“Hey.” Her voice was barely above a whisper as she stepped close to him, putting a hand on his bicep. “It’s me. Remember? I get you.”
The notes in her tone tugged at him, pulled his attention without his consent. He swallowed, but his th
roat was scratchy. He wanted to run—needed to flee—but he was snared by the kindness in her eyes.
Her top lip turned upward, empathetic to whatever she read on his face. He hated that she could read anything there—that despite him fleeing all those years ago, she did know him.
“Oh, Logan.” Violet’s arms enveloped him, folding herself into him, her body melding to his, the heat of the fire making him sweat.
He was losing oxygen—her arms and body were the new walls of his chamber, confining him, squeezing air from his chest, making it impossible to breathe. He didn’t want to smell her lilac-scented hair—didn’t want to feel her bare arms against his—didn’t want any of it. He was a prisoner in need of escape. His spine was so tightly strung he was afraid if he moved it would break and all of him would shatter into pieces.
His freedom came with a chuckle from behind. The foreign sound melded with another, deeper laugh. Logan took advantage of the distraction, pulling out of her grip. Violet’s hands fell away, and the two of them turned to face their guests.
Holly was back with two guys who seemed about the same age as the girls and almost a decade younger than Logan—early twenties, maybe. The dark-haired guy with the wide shoulders glowered at Logan, while the other, lankier one with sandy hair looked amused. “That’s what I’m talkin’ ’bout,” he said.
They all ignored the comment.
“Look who I found,” Holly gestured to the guys with her.
“Hey, Brad,” Violet said, her voice carefully even, displaying no trace of emotion. “Hey, Ryan.”
Ryan, the sandy-haired one with the smirk, gave a cool-guy nod.
Logan saw his window and wouldn’t miss it for the world. He turned to Violet, patting her awkwardly on the shoulder. “Well, it was great to see you. I better get out of here. Big plans for the day.” He tipped his head to Holly and the guys then strode back to the restroom for the bag he’d hastily left there earlier. Thankfully, none of them called after him.
Only when he was twenty paces away did his back begin to loosen. At thirty paces, he allowed himself a carefully regulated inhale.
Constricted: A Flawed Short Story Page 2