Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 64337 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 322(@200wpm)___ 257(@250wpm)___ 214(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64337 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 322(@200wpm)___ 257(@250wpm)___ 214(@300wpm)
But now…
Now, I need to get the fuck out of town and away from Binx. I need to clear my head, refocus my thoughts, and firm up my resolve. And if I can’t do those things, I need to work up the guts to make a clean break. Better to lose a friend than to betray her. I’d rather cut off my own hand than hurt Binx.
I’d do anything for her, in fact, except the one thing she wants.
It’s star-crossed as fuck. Even a guy who slept through the ninth-grade unit on Romeo and Juliet can see that.
But I don’t see much else. I remain blinded by my own forbidden crush until I’m stranded in the wilderness Tuesday morning with no cell phone, no car, and a creeping suspicion that I’ve been set up.
That suspicion is confirmed two minutes later when a familiar voice calls out from the other side of the clearing, “Hello? Is someone there? They said I’d find the rest of the group up this way?”
I turn to see none other than Binx emerging from the trees, dressed in her tight black climbing pants and carrying a camping pack just like mine.
Chapter 7
BINX
Istop dead, my brain short-circuiting, stunned by the site of Seven alone in the clearing ahead of me.
It’s like I conjured him there with the force of my rage.
He blocked me. Blocked me!
Me, the woman who he insists is such a child that she can’t make an informed decision about who she wants to date. Meanwhile, instead of dealing with what happened between us yesterday, he’s taken the path of maximum immaturity.
If someone had told me Seven would ghost me a few days ago, I would have laughed in their face and demanded they apologize. I never would have stood for that kind of disrespect toward my friend. Seven isn’t a cowardly, selfish asshole. He wouldn’t do that to anyone, especially not his best friend.
Those were his words, not mine. He called me his best friend while we were up that tree at my brother’s wedding reception. Then, the very next evening, he was ready to pretend that I didn’t exist.
A part of me wants to storm across the clearing and demand to know who the hell he thinks he is, but the other part is too worried about my free-falling stomach and the voice in my head warning that something is very wrong.
First of all, Seven shouldn’t be here. I never mentioned this trip to him after our fight, and he wouldn’t have signed up on his own. He loves rock-climbing, but he never takes off work, especially not for three whole days. And even if taking off work is part of his new ghosting, being-a-dick personality, he shouldn’t be standing here all alone.
I’m half an hour late. Wendy Ann got stuck behind a garbage truck on the way to pick me up, and then the last road leading up to the meeting spot was washed out. Wendy Ann had to crawl up on top of her car to get cell service to text Lilac, then Lilac had to give us alternate directions, and then I had to strap on all my gear for the short hike up an access road not fit for my sister’s little sedan.
Then, before I could set out, I had to endure a weirdly long hug from Wendy Ann.
A hug…
My sister isn’t a hugger. She isn’t much of a toucher, in general. Wendy Ann is a brain in a jar. She exists almost completely inside her own head.
But this morning, she hugged me and said that I could “totally survive for three days in the wilderness.” At the time, I’d smiled at her worry wort side, and assured her that I absolutely could, and would, survive. I have tons of experience with backcountry camping, snacks in my pack to supplement the meals provided by the tour, and my water purifying supplies. I also have a tricked-out first aid kit and am an accomplished climber.
And while there might not be reliable cell service out here in the sticks, there surely will be where we’re going. Even the Golden Spire bluffs are closer to civilization than the national forest outside Bad Dog.
I’m still not sure why we’re meeting in the forest west of town to drive to a location two hours southeast in Lilac’s four-wheel drive vans, but that’s part of the fun of a tour. You let someone else worry about the planning. All I have to do is throw my bag into the back of the van, pop my earbuds in, and settle in for the ride.
Or so I’d thought…
But there aren’t any vans here, no tents to load up, not so much as a s’mores kit or a bottle of sunscreen.
There’s just Seven, alone with his own bag, scowling at me like he’s thinking about wringing my scrawny neck. Only my neck isn’t scrawny, and I have no idea what he’s so pissed about.