Page 21 of Just Act Natural

“And you? Do you have somebody back home in Texas to soften your edges?”

“Do I seem like I’m rough?”

“I don’t know, I’ve heard rumors about guys who whittle…”

I hold her gaze for a second. “I don’t have anybody back home in Texas. What about you?”

“I don’t have anyone, but my edges are already pretty soft,so.” She closes her eyes and shakes her head. “That’s—pretend I didn’t say that.”

“I never disagreed with you.”

She gives me an unimpressed look. “Well, it’s getting dark. I guess we should probably go to bed.Ishould go to bed, I mean. You can whittle for as long as you want.”

I’m loving the awkwardness. It gives me a stupid kind of hope.

“I really made an impact with the whittling.”

“It’s memorable. You’re the whittling guy in my head now, I’m sorry.”

“If that’s what it takes.”

She stands and dusts off her pants. “All right, Grant the Whittler. See you in the morning.”

She scrambles away to her tent, crawls inside, and zips it shut.

I stay up way too late thinking about Lila’s soft edges.

SEVEN

LILA

Addanother line to the list of things I am completely unprepared for on this trip: Sleeping in a tent. From being swaddled like a baby in a narrow sleeping bag to the general weirdness of having only a thin layer of fabric protecting me from the great outdoors, I didn’t get much rest last night. I probably burned as many calories wiggling around trying to get comfortable as I did from yesterday’s hike.

And don’t get me started on the noises.

Every little sound had my eyes jolting wide open all night. They were probably just tree branches moving in the breeze or nocturnal animals inspecting our campsite, but it’s hard to think rationally in the dead of night. Restless serial killers who prey on unsuspecting campers when they’re at their most vulnerable probably would have made a lot more racket, but I didn’t completely rule them out. I shivered in my little sleeping bag cocoon while my mind filled with creepy monster men.

I’m not usually a catastrophizer, but I’ve also never slept in the woods before. Looks like that’s a package deal.

“She’s awake!” Deena calls as soon as I crawl out of my makeshift cave.

It’s barely seven, but I guess that’s late in this group. The smell of pancakes cooking draws me closer to her propane stove.

She waves a spatula over her small griddle. “We’re eating in shifts since I can only make three pancakes at a time.”

The others are gathered in a circle nearby, but only Scott and Shannon are eating so far. Nobody else looks quite as rumpled as I feel. I guess sleeping outdoors is some kind of skill I haven’t mastered.

“I don’t mind waiting.”

“If you need coffee or tea, we’ve got some mugs and a carafe of hot water over here.”

“Ooh, yes.” I sort through the selection of instant beverage packets and get a bag of cardamom cinnamon tea steeping in an enamel mug. It’s cold this morning, and my breath puffs out in a little cloud. I’m chilled everywhere except the places my palms make contact with the mug. Not for the first time, I think wistfully of my purple roller bag and all the extra layers of clothes I could be wearing this very minute.

But alas.

I wander away from the breakfast line to enjoy my tea. It’s probably best if I don’t socialize until I wake up a little more. Honestly, I don’t know if tea is enough to perk me up out here. These last twenty-four hours haven’t been anything like a normal day. I went to bed before nine last night like an infant, for goodness’s sake, and I still feel like two-day old pizza—stiff and unappealing.

“Good morning, Lila.”

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