Page 48 of Unhurried Hearts

He winks and the temperature goes up about five degrees. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

And now I’m sweating.

“What can I do to help?”

The least I can do now is be useful and not just drool at the man setting up our sleeping space.

“You can collect some kindling. After the tent is up, I’ll have a nice fire going in no time.”

I love his confidence. He’s certain he’ll have a roaring fire going to feed and warm us and dry our clothes. I’ve been running a business on my own, taking care of my place on my own, having Chris take over a few details for the weekend is nice.

***

I drop one last armload of the driest sticks I could find by the ring of rocks Chris arranged. He offers for me to get cleaned up first while he works on the fire. Pulling my boots and socks off, I massage my tender arches and check my heels for blisters. The lightweight sneakers he suggested I pack for around camp feel like slippers after wearing the rigid boots all day. As I climb in the navy-blue tent, I can understand why Chris said I might be sorry. There isn’t much vertical space inside, but surely, it’s spacious enough for us to lie down. Hopefully. The sleeping pad is easy to inflate, and the sleeping bag looks like a five-star hotel bed after the day I had. Our packs will sit in the vestibule outside the door to stay dry. I unzip my rain shell, grateful it only drizzled a bit today, and strip off the rest of my layers. Being completely naked with only the thinnest layer of nylon fabric hiding me from Chris is exhilarating. The firewood hisses and pops and birds sing in the branches arching over our makeshift campsite. I run a wet washcloth over my skin. I finish freshening up, the crisp evening air nipping at my bare skin. Once I’m redressed in clean clothes, I emerge, the tent zipper drawing Chris’s attention from where he’s crouched by the fire.

“Feel better?”

“Totally comfy.” I wrap my arms around myself, puffy in my fleece pullover.

“C’mon over.” He pats a spot on the ground next to him where he’s laid out a small tarp to keep our butts dry.

“Holy, it’s hot.” I scoot back.

“Fire has a tendency to do that.”

We roast smokies over the fire for supper, the simple meal so much more delicious than it normally would be due to the exertions of the day. When I leave the fire for a moment and return with a chocolate bar, a small bag of marshmallows, and a sleeve of graham wafers Chris laughs.

“Can’t remember her tent but manages the ingredients for s’mores? I see where the priorities lie.”

“I absolutely refused to do this if I didn’t at least get a s’more out of it.”

“No complaints from me. Let me go find us a couple of good roasting sticks.”

He returns with two clean branches and pulls a folding knife out of his pocket to sharpen the ends into clean points like he’d done for the sticks for supper. The knife gleams in the firelight, Chris’s capable hands manipulating it with ease. I shift on the tarp, a different heat than the one from the fire beginning to form between my legs. Seeing him use his hands like that takes me right back to mybedroom when a single one of his fingers easily brought me to orgasm.

“Were you a boy scout?”

He shakes his head, offering me my stick. “Nah. My mom taught me most of this stuff. She was the youngest girl in a family of boys and she was never left out of the outdoorsy activities. Didn’t matter what time of year it was, she always had something to teach me. Hunting, fishing, you name it. That’s how she got interested in conservation and combating invasive species and stuff like that. She was actually a park ranger when she was younger.”

Chris goes quiet, staring into the fire with a deep furrow in his brow like the flames have done something to personally offend him. He lets his chin fall into his hand and I notice him open his mouth a couple times to speak. He’s making me nervous.

He sits up straight, speaking suddenly. “You and I have had different goals.”

He scowls again like he’s unhappy with what he heard.

“Would you like to elaborate?” I squeeze his thigh.

“You’ve been trying to lose your virginity and I’ve been trying to…not.”

I press my lips together. “Chris. I don’t know how to tell you this, but you can’t un-have sex. I know virginityis a concept that only serves to strengthen the patriarchy but–”

“Anna. I know I’m not being very eloquent, but can you let me try to say this? I’m struggling.”

I gesture that my lips are sealed.

“I have been…worried…that my relationships up until this point weren’t really based on anything other than physical attraction. So, I decided to not have sex for six months.”

A ripple of pleasure washes over me at the thought of Chris not having been with anyone for a long time.

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