Page 76 of Charlie and Her Sweet Escape
She turned around in my arms. “I don’t want you to resent me.”
“I won’t,” I said firmly. “I like making you comfortable.”
She studied my eyes as if trying to assess my truthfulness. I stared at her openly, taking in her large green eyes. Wet hair stuck to curls on her forehead and near her ears, droplets of water falling onto her long eyelashes. “Who makes sure you’re comfortable?” She pushed back a strand of my hair from my forehead.
The energy was charged between us. “You do. In a million different ways.”
“Like kicking you all night?” she said with a scoff.
“Like making me feel not so alone.” I traced my nose along her jaw and heard her catch her breath.
I moved slowly, giving her time to pull back if she wanted, but she didn’t. She held perfectly still. I pulled back to make sure she was okay, when her hand went behind my head and pulled my lips to hers. Her hands gripped my shoulders. I slipped my free arm beneath the coat, pulling her flush against my chest.
I parted my lips to deepen the kiss, and a whoosh of cold air met me as Charlie pulled back with flushed cheeks and clear desire in her gaze.
“We’d better get that grouse cooking,” she said, her voice low and thick. Before I could stop her, she grabbed her flowers and the camera she’d set up just out of sight from where she’d been bathing and fled back to camp.
Leaving me aching and frustrated, and with no idea what to do about my runaway kisser.
31
CHARLIE
Bennett brought me home from school again today. Rosie isn’t feeling well, and I can tell Bennett’s stressed about it. She caught the sore-throat, stomach-bug thing I had last week. He told me that since his mom got sick and died, it’d been hard for him to see the people he loves get sick. That it brings him back to that time in his life. Bennett is a huggy person, and I didn’t even think about it before I gave him a quick hug when he dropped me off. “She’s going to get better. I promise,” I told him. Later, Rosie texted me a heart and said thank you. I guess Bennett was much calmer when he got home.
—from the journal of 18-year-old Charlie Savage
The lines of our days blended into weeks, becoming smudges of hunger, exhaustion, and sleeping increasingly closer to each other as the wind and chill were our never-ending companions.
A few show-initiated challenges broke up our settled routine. There was a water contamination challenge (the show dropped off two containers of water, and we had thirty minutes to determine which was drinkable and which would make us ill) that I was going to have nightmares about for the rest of my life. We won the containers, which ended up being really helpful. For another challenge, we had to race the clock (and the weather) to build four different fires using four different starter methods. It wouldn’t have been that hard, except the nonstop wind madeeverythinghard. Bennett ended up holding a tarp over me while I got every fire going. His arms had been shaking by the end.
I was dreading of our next challenge. We’d been lucky to have them spaced out so much. That must mean there were fewer of us left, and they didn’t want to weed us out too quickly.
I needed to mentally prepare, but instead, my thoughts were consumed by two things:
First, hunger. Even in my sleep, I dreamed about food. Maybe that’s why I was hugging Bennett all night, like a turkey leg I’d love to take a bite of.
And second, Bennett. Lying close to him. Talking to him. Watching him work, which he was always doing. He was one of the hardest workers I’d ever met. His fingers against my scalp when he helped me wash my hair. The very specific muscle in his forearm that flexed when he was sawing another log. The tender way I caught him looking at me if I woke up after him.
And the one I could create entire songs about out here (except it would be weird): kissing him. A kiss from Bennett felt more amazing than the most romantic moments with Greg. What in the world was I supposed to do with that realization?The good (and bad) news was that I had plenty of time out here to ponder it.
“I’ll get this side!” Bennett yelled over the wild wind whipping through our campsite. I felt like I was in the midst of a tornado. I was helping him tie down anything we couldn’t bring into the shelter.
My hair flung in my face, and I tried to shake it away, since my hands were in the middle of collecting the rabbit meat we’d smoked last night. My hair was too short to tie back, but I still loved the freedom and lightness of it. “Will our shelter hold up?” I called back to him.
He finished tying his corner, then came next to me and brushed my hair out of my eyes and mouth. Every brush of his fingers made it hard to breathe. All thoughts fled except for how, despite everything, I didn’t want to leave. I didn’t want to lose whatever this was with Bennett.
“I hope so,” he said grimly.
“It sounds like a horror movie,” I said with a shiver. A particularly strong gust of wind rattled the shelter as we escaped inside.
He made sure there were no easily spotted weaknesses while I got a fire going. After being out here for several weeks, I was becoming a pro fire starter. Not really a skill I’d need while leading my ocean exploration groups, but it was sure coming in handy out here.
Bennett sat beside me, and we both stared into the wavering fire.
“Is being out here what you thought it would be?” Bennett poked a stick at the flames, and bright orange and yellow sparks drifted upward.
“I thought there’d be more animal rescues,” I said, almost embarrassed with how wistful I sounded.
