Page 41 of Wild Child
Was this Devin without me?
I turned that thought away, because down that path lay a dangerous game. A game of wondering whether he mourned me as much as I mourned him. Whether he felt as incomplete as I had—did—and if he thought about it. Those thoughts gave way to hope, and hope wasn't something I invested in.
Not now.
Not when there was an actual chance.
Inside my head, all of my boxes rattled.
The cool water of the stream on my arm reoriented me in the moment, and the lightning provided ample motivation to finish my quick wipe-down and necessities. Devin splashed a few steps away, but not too far. Lightning brightened the woods when Devin reached back and pulled his shirt off. A quick silhouette of his flexed arms and shoulders came with the streak of light, and my stomach bottomed out.ThisDevin was certainly different from high school.
When I finished, the angle of Devin's silhouette meant he watched the sky.
"Going to be nasty tonight," he murmured as he gathered his bundle back up, flipped on his light to check the stream bed for anything we left behind, and we headed back. A few steps before my beam illuminated the orange tent, the full realization of what I'd done settled in.
Ten hours of no-avoidance-contact between me and Devin.
His tent was a two-man tent, but with our packs and those new shoulders of his, there'd be no space. Unless we wanted to put our stuff outside and let everything get drenched in the downpour, of course. We'd have to lay back to back or . . .
Worse.
With a gulp, my steps slowed. What could I do now? Nothing. Wind started to stir the trees with a sweet, balmy breeze that smelled like incoming rain. The lightning inched closer with every passing minute. Thunder grew in volume, like a giant punching the slate rocks overhead. Half the sky was overtaken now, the stars replaced by a dark mat.
Devin slowed behind me. "Climb in," he called over one particularly loud percussion of thunder. "We'll figure it out inside."
Wind stirred my hair as I climbed in. My sleeping bag had been hastily thrown in next to his. On top of it, my pack. I dropped to my knees, removed my shoes outside, and shook the dirt free. Devin climbed inside after I pulled my shoes in and flipped on a small, battery-operated lantern. Wordlessly, he hooked the lantern onto a little tie on the ceiling. Light flooded the area and lent a sense of normalcy to the surreal evening.
For several minutes, we quietly shuffled around. I replaced my toiletries in my pack. He riffled through a bag, mumbling to himself. The small lantern cast erratic beams through the tent. I could almost pretend that we'd stepped back in time. That high school passed the way I planned. That he hadn't lied, I hadn't chickened out, and a mere miscommunication hadn't separated us for three years and turned us into different people.
Pretending a false dream gave my heart one quiet reprieve before I had to escort it back to reality all night long.
The gentle, sporadicpat pat patof rain sounded on top of the tent. The drops plunked loudly, separated by long hesitations. At the same time, we finished our busy work. I settled back onto my sleeping bag. A rock stuck into my shoulder blade. He pulled his headlamp off and set it aside. Neither of us seemed to know what to do next.
He reached for the lamp. "You good?"
I nodded. He flipped it off and plunged the tent into a thick black. In the utter darkness came a moment of relief. At least I didn't have to stare at those broad shoulders. The strong jaw chiseled in his new life experience. The edge of something in his motions now. I stared at the top of the tent as he wiggled right next to me and began to wonder.
Would I sleep better because I could smell him?
Would our friendship come back quickly?
Like riding a bike, maybe. Instinctive. Something that you just did because you always had. You didn't have to think about thehowor even thewhy. You just did it.
Hadn't it already started to do that?
Would I really be able to be acquaintances with him?
I almost scoffed at the idea, but to scoff would be to admit defeat already. Besides, that answer depended on him. If he deployed all the time and lived in North Carolina, doing who-knew-what else, would he want to stay friends with a wild child like me? After so many years away, he wouldn't be likely to hold onto Pineville.
Maybe that's what hurt tonight. We were supposed to see the world together and he took that away from us. Pineville had never been big enough. I'd wanted more, and Devin had been my ticket out. Mysafeticket out.
No,I thought, suddenly confused. That couldn't be true. After three years without him, I'd proven I could do anything alone that we did together. Mountain hikes. Rugged terrain. Exploring new places.
Did Ineedhim to get out?
No.
So why hadn’t I left yet?
