Page 17 of Wild About You
Finn clearly isn’t used to them yet. When he finally gets to the end of the buffet, I make no effort to hide that I’m eyeing his plate. He pulls it closer to his chest with a wary look my way, but I’ve already seen what I need to see. Sure enough, the only things he put on his baked potato are butter and cheese.
“What did you eat for lunch?” I whisper sharply.
He looks to his plate, then off to the side shiftily. “I had enough,” he murmurs, already starting to walk back toward his Log of Loneliness.
Well, this won’t do. Especially when we’ve been hiking as much as we have, and this is supposed to be a chill, refueling kind of stop where we’re not responsible for rationing our own provisions. And who knows what we’ll be doing tomorrow? He needs more sustenance.
“Does production know?” I fall into step beside him, incapable of minding my business.
Finn only shrugs. Letting out an irritated huff, I peer around the clearing in the fading daylight, zeroing in on a producer walking toward the woods not far from us.
I veer off toward the woman. Finn’s footsteps pound close behind me, his voice more of a hiss when he asks, “What are you doing?”
“Excuse me!” I ignore him and call out to the producer, my hand shooting into the air and waving like that of a third grader who’s really gotta pee. She stops and looks my way, briefly glancing behind her to see if I’m beckoning someone else. “Yes, you! Over here a sec, please.”
She looks cautious as she starts toward us.
“Whatever you’re up to, it’s not necessary,” my teammate whisper-groans behind me.
“Hi there,” I say when the producer stands before me and I give her a real nice-white-lady-about-to-become-a-nuisance smile. “I’m Natalie. Remind me of your name?”
“Ginger,” she answers, looking between Finn and me like she’s not sure what’s scarier—his mad face or my happy one.
“Awesome. Listen, Ginger, it seems to have gotten lost in the shuffle somewhere that my partner here—oh, this is Finn, by the way”—I gesture to him and he gives a small, embarrassed nod—“is a vegetarian. He’s also not a big crowds guy, so he waited till all of us carnivorous vultures had gotten our food to go through the line at lunch and dinner. I was hoping we could get our hands on some kind of alternate protein, more greens, anything like that. Do you think you could help make it happen?”
Ginger looks like a nervous witness on the stand. “Oh, I’m sorry we missed that, Finn. I—I don’t think we have any other options on hand tonight, but I can make sure there are more vegetarian-friendly choices at breakfast when the morning crew comes up. For now, we have protein bars, trail mix, meal pouches…Do you think any of that can hold you over?”
She addresses the hulking, sulking figure behind me and I turn my gaze on him too, willing him to speak up for his needs. He looks only a little mortified.
“I’m fine,” he says dully. “Don’t worry about it, really.”
I jump in before he can tell Ginger that he’s not even that much of a vegetarian, or that he’ll just eat some dirt if he has to, or anything similarly passive and ridiculous. “The breakfast plan sounds good—thanks a bunch, Ginger! So listen, can we count on you to get the rest of the crew in the loop? Meatless options at every group meal, and making sure there are plenty of vegetarian items in the food stores we’ll have to choose from?”
“Y-yes, we can do that.” She gives a shaky nod. “Anything else you all need?”
Finn looks like he’s trying to Animorph into a roly-poly bug and tumble on down the mountain, far, far away from his meddling teammate.
“I think that’s it for now. Thanks again, Ginge!” I aim a satisfied grin her way, hopefully conveying a peaceful vibe now that the problem has been addressed. Unclear if the nickname was a bridge too far. But she takes the out as soon as it’s offered, scurrying off faster than a mouse at a cat convention.
“I’m not sure if you said her name enough times,” Finn says, deadpan.
I scoff as I turn on him. “I think the words you’re looking for are ‘Thank you, Natalie. I’m glad I won’t be facing malnutrition as the Final Boss of Wild Adventures.’ ”
A low grumble sounds in his throat, but at least he’s un-roly-poly-fied himself, standing at his normal height once more. His eyes bore into me, and this close, I notice they’re not just dark, endless black, but a warm brown that catches the sunlight and glows almost a caramel-y gold in places.
I blink. Why am I contemplating his eye color? And I haven’t even gotten started on those lashes, which are—
“Okay, cool!” I cut off that train of thought before it can leave the station. “I’ll just, uh, go back to others now. You know, all those potential new friends you’ve been avoiding.”
I’ve made it a few feet away when I hear a quiet “Wait.” I turn on a heel, unable to hide my surprise.
“Thank you…Natalie.”
It’s the first time that my name coming from his mouth has sounded anything but displeased. I feel a little flutter in my stomach. Then I want to kick myself because, god, could the bar be any lower? What’s next, getting weak in the knees when he answers any of my questions with a complete sentence?
But okay, a “thank you” is good. I can accept that.
“Sure,” I reply, considering him. I think for half a second about asking if he’s doing okay. Why he’s been so quiet and removed today—even more than yesterday, which I wouldn’t have really thought possible. But I rein in the impulse. I’m done going out of my way for someone who gives me less than nothing in return. Well, except Band-Aids. And a properly fitting pack. And a “thank you.” And he does look genuinely appreciative, if also a little sad, before he turns and walks to his log bench, takes a seat, and starts to pick at his potato.