Page 29 of Wild About You
“My teeth are chattering again,” Harper murmurs from her seat beside me when there’s a break in the music.
“From the cold?” I eye her shorts and T-shirt. It’s cooled off a little from earlier in the day, but I feel pretty toasty from the fire.
“No.” She does a dramatic, full-body shiver in her chair. “From all the vibes between you and Finn.”
My jaw drops, but I quickly compose myself and look at her like she’s lost it. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Uh-huh.” Her tone is desert dry. A log burning in the fire slips off the log it was resting on, sending up a wave of sparks. Harper points to it. “See? Even the firewood feels the vibes.”
“You sound ridiculous,” I mutter back, forcing an exaggerated frown onto my face even as the temptation to smile is strong. It has been all evening, as the whole group has hung out around the campfire and this time, Finn has been a part of everything. And he’s smiled some, or at least hasn’t looked miserable.
Luis and Daniel spent a while telling bad knock-knock jokes, trying to see who could get Finn to laugh first. He didn’t let either win, but clearly enjoyed their attempts. Over dinner, Zeke peppered him with questions about the health benefits of vegetarianism, which probably got more words out of my partner in one go than I’ve ever heard, and may or may not have made me burn with jealousy.
Okay, so it’s possible I’ve been a bit hyperfocused. But Harper’s wrong about whatever teeth-chattering “vibe” she thinks she’s picking up. This is a temporary condition I’m dealing with, courtesy of pseudo-skinny-dipping together and homemade ice pack gifts. And anyway, Finn is giving off no obvious indications that he’s experiencing similar, crush-adjacent feelings.
Is he?
I feel less sure by the time the group is winding down for sleep. I saw Finn go to set up the tent earlier, but we haven’t talked about sleeping arrangements tonight. I figure I’ll address it after my nightly routine, since I’m not even certain what I want yet. He probably doesn’t need to be in the tent with me, now that we’re camping with the others again. Still, I feel the preemptive anxiety rolling in—the jittery feeling of “I don’t know if I’m going to freak out this time, but since I freaked out last time, it’s a definite possibility, and I really don’t want to deal with those feelings.” It makes my hands shake as I take my makeup off, brush my teeth. I know they’re not shaking from vibes.
When I return to the clearing, though, I don’t see Finn anywhere, nor is his hammock set up. Cautiously, I approach the tent, unzip the flap on my side, and…find him stretched out there in his sleeping bag beside mine, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world, the glow of his e-reader shining on his face as he reads. A wave of relief nearly bowls me over.
He looks up at me as I crawl into the tent, the light of the tablet making all his handsome features clear. And when he gives me that smile again, it hits me just how much trouble I could be in.
Chapter Eleven
There aren’t many instances in my life nowadays when being a Horse Girl comes in clutch. But today, the equine angels have smiled upon me, singing in a heavenly chorus, “Natalie Hart, you are the baddest bitch in this competition!” I can hear it, I swear.
That’s right: at last, my moment to shine on Wild Co-EdVentures has arrived. Our challenge is horse-themed.
“That sure is some horse,” Finn says as we stand outside the barn at Wallingford Stables, site of today’s challenge, waiting on the crew to get set up for filming. His attempt at a Kentucky accent is probably the worst I’ve heard since I was on the set of Racing Heart.
The sip of water I’ve just taken from my bottle spews out between my lips. When I recover enough to speak, I smack his arm while he just stands there trying to bite down on his grin. “I told you my most famous feature film quote in confidence! Don’t go throwing it around like you have the right!”
“Don’t worry. If any fans try to swarm you, I can fight them off.”
When Burke Forrester met us earlier this morning, he gave the whole group the same directions for hiking to the stables and no further information—especially none to explain what horses have to do with the AT. We hiked here as one big, sleepy group, with Finn insisting upon carrying my pack along with his own after getting tired of hearing me whimper in pain every time the hip straps bumped my gigantic bruise. Enemi was the first to suggest, as we all discussed it, that the stables are probably sponsoring this episode.
“I’ve heard of them before, in equestrian circles,” she’d explained. “They have the money for it.”
This was how I learned, much to my chagrin, that Enemi and I have more in common than I ever wanted to believe—though her “equestrian circles” are sliiightly wealthier than mine, judging from everything she went on about for the rest of the hike. She’s even at school with an equestrian scholarship, which confirms my judgmental suspicion that she’s not especially in need of Wild Adventures money. That’s fine—I can’t resent her for being born into money.
I can resent her for acting like her shit doesn’t stink because of it.
I didn’t even pipe up to inform her that I ride too, though I got more and more excited as we neared Wallingford Stables. I was trying to temper the feeling anyway, in case we arrived only to learn we’d be mucking out stalls and covering ourselves in manure as a natural bug spray or something equally, well, wild.
When Burke told us we were indeed saddling up and riding later today, ass bruise or not, I was ready. To. GO. Finn, however, was immediately horrified, having never spent time around horses in his life. It’s the first time I’ve really felt more skilled at something than him—if you don’t count, like, the skill of social interaction—and I could get used to it.
“So you think we’ll have to, uh, go in the stalls with them?” His voice takes on a more anxious edge as we watch a couple of the crew powdering Burke’s face and running a comb through his hair, usually a sign that we’re about to start rolling.
I look at the cameras set up to face a few of the stalls where the doors have been propped open. Then I look to Finn’s increasingly petrified expression. The guy who is unfazed by the potential of a bear run-in is totally freaked by these gentle, giant babies.
“Probably, but it’ll be fine. They’re sweet! Just don’t sneak up on them, and stay where they can see you, not directly in front of or behind them.”
“Why?” he barks, and I flinch at the sudden volume spike.
“Um, so you don’t get kicked or anything,” I say with what I hope looks like a totally chill, you’ve-got-this smile.
He is not buying it. “You said they’re sweet!”