“It’s not about me, you’re the one who clearly has stuff going on. I’m just trying not to be the person that acts out because of other people. That’s something I do a lot and I don’t want to. It’s probably the only thing I do better than oversharing,” she presses her lips together as she stares up at me. I wish I could put everything out there like she does, but even after the past twenty-four hours, something is stopping me. She shrugs, arms wrapped around herself, protecting her. “I want to be there for you because I care about you. I feel like I could be a better friend to you if you communicated with me.”
“I made us miscommunicators again.”
She nods. “Kinda. It doesn’t have to mean baring your soul, Russ. We’re getting to know each other; you’re allowed to have boundaries and things you keep for yourself. Some people are good at sharing, some people aren’t. We just have to find middle ground.”
“I’m really sorry I missed practice. I know how important the talent show is to you and I wouldn’t have missed it if I’d had a choice.”
Aurora unfolds her arms, her posture relaxing the longer we stand near each other. “It’s okay. There will be a dozen more. Emilia and Xander were very intense.”
I notice the backpack on her shoulder. “Were you going somewhere? Before you saw me?”
“I was going on a hike to this place I love, but I wasn’t sure about the weather, so I was going to find my rain coat. I’m not even sure there’s ever going to be rain, I think Xander might have made it up because he didn’t want to swim.”
“Can I come? I’m not going to be able to relax, so there’s no point me trying. I’m okay with getting caught in the rain.”
She smiles and the relief floods me. “If we get caught in the rain, we’ll just enjoy the rainbow.”
Chapter Seventeen
AURORA
I woke up this morning and told myself to forget Russ Callaghan. That he was just another man whose attention I’d become fixated on and he wasn’t the guy I was turning him into in my head. Emilia says I get attached too easily, or not at all, and that I don’t do the happy medium like most people.
I have to really question if someone is worth it when their actions make me call my mom just to hear her tell me how much she misses me.
I’d made my choice and I was sticking to it, which worked until he strolled back into camp and stopped in front of me. It’s hard to be mad at someone when they look like total shit. It’s hard to know that, if he’d walked in smiling and looking his usual, beautiful self, I would’ve had the same reaction.
I was heading to grab some stuff for my hike when I overshared all my feelings with the man I constantly force my bullshit onto. I don’t know what it is, the softness of his face or the way his eyes make me melt when he’s giving me his full attention, or those freaking dimples, that makes me want to word vomit my insecurities all over him.
He must be totally exhausted being stuck around me.
Not exhausted enough to make me carry my backpack though.
Now freshly showered, Russ is matching each of my steps up the steepening trail path and making it look easy. “I can carry my own backpack,” I repeat for the millionth time through strained breath. I really need to start exercising more. “I feel like you’re one of those little donkeys in Greece.”
“I like helping,” he says, not even a hint of panting, “and I’m used to carrying shit around. Not used to being called a donkey though, thanks for that one.”
“How are you not even breaking a sweat? You can carry me if you want, my legs hurt.”
I don’t even have time to say I’m kidding before my ass is in the air and my nose gets buried in my backpack. Russ’s hand grips the back of my thigh, keeping me in place over his shoulder as he continues, not even breaking his stride.
This was not what I was asking for.
“Aurora, every time you wriggle, you rub your ass against my face,” he says casually.
Give me strength. “I didn’t really mean carry me. I was being dramatic for sympathy!”
His fingers dig into my thigh and a part of me that has been severely neglected starts to throb. How thick my thigh is versus how much of his hand can cover it is not something I should be obsessing over right now.
“This is my version of being sympathetic,” he teases. “We’re nearly at the top anyway. Definitely feel like a donkey now though.”
“I take it back. You’re Shrek and I’m Princess Fiona.”