Page 13 of Wild About You
All part of the journey, though! I’m having FUN, I remind myself as I head back into the clearing, now properly clothed. I cross to the log where Finn is hunched over, tending to his feet.
“Care if I join you?” I ask when I plop down a few feet away from him, as if he has a choice. He doesn’t even grunt, just eyes me with skepticism as I set up my travel mirror in my lap and begin to attempt my Process outdoors. I start with another cleansing wipe, this one specifically for the face and with packaging containing a bunch of my favorite buzzwords, like brightening and smoothing and purifying. Next I layer on the serums, moisturizer, and all-important sunscreen. Once done, I pack all the bottles neatly back into my kit and begin to unload my makeup.
“There’s more?” Finn murmurs softly.
“Takes a lot of money to look this cheap,” I paraphrase Her Majesty Dolly Parton in an equally quiet voice back to him, keeping my eyes trained on the mirror as I dab concealer under my eyes. I don’t actually think I look cheap, of course. But I’ve always idolized Dolly’s ability to be unabashedly into taking care of herself. Looking good makes me feel good, and I look and feel my best when I put some effort in.
It’s one of the things my parents have rolled their eyes at over the years, trotting it out as evidence that I’m superficial and spend my time and energy on frivolous things. Ignoring the fact that even if I take thirty minutes to do my makeup in the morning, I’ll still be down in the stables mucking stalls on time, getting my hands and boots as dirty as everyone else. I’m not about to apologize for it.
Besides, I’m not even doing the full face for my time here. Just a little concealer—or a lot, if I keep sleeping as poorly as I did last night—some powder that contains extra sun protection, a touch of brow pencil, eyeliner, and tinted lip balm. I could be so much higher maintenance.
A long-winded sigh interrupts by internal self-congratulating. “I hate to ask, but—”
“Well then, don’t, Mr. Finntastic,” I offer cheerily in return, tilting my head from side to side to make sure the wings on my liner match. They’re perfect. I can’t believe I thought this would be hard!
“Is all of that really necessary?”
I cap my liquid liner and tuck it back into my bag before turning to face him, bringing one leg up on the log between us. With a solemn expression, I finally meet his judgy eyes. “In my years of experience watching Wild Adventures, I’ve observed that the teams who do the best are the ones who find their own unique ways to stay calm, focused, and competitive,” I say with conviction. “You have your pants, which I imagine contain all kinds of survival skills and resources in their many, many pockets, and your resting bitch face, which intimidates the competition. I have my skincare and makeup routine, which allow me to feel like less of a forest gremlin and distract everyone with my hotness. Doubt me if you must, but my Sephora Rouge membership and I will be laughing all the way to the financial aid office with our hundred-thousand-dollar scholarship.”
Finn’s head drops, and his hands come up to cover his face in a way that almost looks like he’s praying, but in fact, he’s just rubbing at the lines between his eyes again. “Shouldn’t have asked,” comes his muffled mumble.
My smile is both proud and serene as I stand and bounce over to my pack to put all my things back in. And it turns out I finished not a moment too soon, as a producer with an orange envelope and a camera operator emerge into our clearing.
Showtime.
Chapter Five
“Hey. Hey, Finn. What is a tree’s favorite month?”
I hear a grunt from where he’s briskly hiking a few feet ahead of me.
“Nope, good try though,” I say with a wink back at the camera behind me. “SepTIMBERRR!”
The only sound aside from all of our footsteps through the forest floor is the muffled laughter of producer Carina and camera operator Hugh, both of whom are following us to the checkpoint today. When they’d arrived earlier, Carina had given us an envelope containing our next map and go time fifteen minutes later, which gave Finn and me just enough of a gap to stash everything back in our packs, tighten up our boot laces, and argue a little about whether it rained overnight. I didn’t actually think it rained; I just wanted to see how worked up Finn would get. Flash forward to my poorly suppressed smile as he shout-explained the concept of dew.
I guess I’m partially to blame, then, for his poor attitude ever since. He’s hogged the map, steamrolled me on the navigation front, and exhibited a promising future in competitive speed-walking. We aren’t quite running to the checkpoint, though the pace my partner is setting suggests that he could do it, if he wasn’t stuck with me.
This has meant carrying the entertainment portion of our team responsibilities on my back. I’m not the best at improvisation—I haven’t had a ton of experience with it in my lifetime of acting. But the key to good improv, for me, is having a good partner to work with, someone you can bounce banter and ideas off of, who will be your “yes, and—” person.
Finn is more of a “no” or (tense silence) person.
It hasn’t given me a lot to go on. And it feels like the silences have grown more pronounced the more I try to engage him. I can just imagine some editing room sorting through a bunch of footage from the hike with Team Finnatalie, in which it’s entirely quiet save for the crunching footsteps and labored breathing of the crew and me. They’d surely insert some cricket chirping, or quirky music meant to emphasize the awkwardness between teammates. I simply can’t allow it.
“Have I told you about hiking in the Red River Gorge?” I ask Finn. I know I haven’t, but I’m trying to pretend this is a dialogue. At his vague negative-sounding noise, I go on. “It’s this beautiful part of eastern Kentucky, where the Red River carved a big canyon system that’s all covered in trees, and there’s a ton of hiking and camping and stuff. My friends Reese and Clara used to like to go every summer and—okay, to be honest, they’d have to drag me along with the promise of Miguel’s Pizza after we were done hiking.
“So there’s one hike up to a big, sandstone arch called Natural Bridge, but since it’s the most popular place for tourists to see, you can also take a sky lift to the top. A few summers back, Reese and Clar wanted to do the hike, but it was so hot and so humid in the middle of July, and I just could not. I told them I’d meet them at the top, and I bought myself a sky lift ticket and floated on up there. When they arrived sweaty and exhausted, I was chilling, enjoying the view with my still-cold water bottle. Work smarter, not harder, you know?”
All I get is an exaggerated sniff that could mean a lot of things, but I think I’m sensing aggravation.
“I wonder if there’s a sky lift for any leg of this journey. I wouldn’t be mad about it. Keep an eye out, will ya, Finn?”
We continue on like this for the whole two hours it takes to hike the almost-five mile stretch laid out on our map, Finn only occasionally speaking up to acknowledge my requests for water breaks. We pass or get passed by hikers heading in both directions, most of whom smile and say some form of hello, a few giving Hugh and his camera wary looks. But we never cross paths with another team, which could be a great sign or a terrible one. Either way, I try not to think about it.
When at last we hear voices up ahead, I squeal with both excitement and relief. It’s like I’ve been onstage for the entire first act of a show with the most lines in every scene and a few especially aerobic dance numbers, and it’s finally intermission. I jog past Finn and all the way into the clearing, where Burke Forrester stands next to a Wild Adventures flag in front of a small stone building. I don’t even register which other teams have arrived or what that means for our ranking, I just keep my eyes on the man who will hand down my fate—at least for the next twenty-four hours or so.
“Finn and Natalie,” Burke says in his cartoon character voice. “Welcome to your next checkpoint! How was the first night of your wild adventure?”
“Oh, Burke, it was a delight,” I enthuse breathlessly, slapping a hand to my leg. “Like an elementary school slumber party with my besties, minus plumbing, plus an added low-level fear for my survival at all times!”