Love without a Compass. Lindy Zart

you going to help me at all?” Ben demands, sounding slightly breathless.

      “I don’t know, this is kind of fun.”

      “For you maybe.”

      His attitude rubs me the wrong way and I attempt to fling off his hold, but he only reaches higher, his hand almost erotic in its touch as it skims the side of my breast and wraps around my elbow. Ben tugs me toward him until I’m looking into stormy features. He hovers over me, locking me in place with his lower body strategically placed crosswise over mine. We slide down the muddy slope an inch before settling once more in the mush.

      “What?” I snap when Ben continues to study me, feeling overwhelmed and out of my element with our current positions.

      Ben glares at me, his expression fiercer than any words that might leave his mouth. “You can’t slide down the hill.”

      “Why not? What else do we have to do?”

      “I don’t know, maybe try to find a way out of here?” he returns.

      When it comes to nature and everything it beholds, I’m pretty much a disaster. My mom tried to teach me that I can’t live life afraid of the things around me, but my fears overrode her efforts. It didn’t help that whenever I went outside, some kind of catastrophe followed. Part of the reason I agreed to this torturous outdoor adventure was to overcome my childhood phobias that followed me into adulthood—the other part was because I wanted to keep my job. I’ve since discovered jobs are overrated.

      “What do you think we’ve been doing this whole time?” I ask tartly.

      I find his words puzzling, along with the tingling sensation flooding my body. I buck my hips to dislodge him and only better fit our bodies together. We scoot down another inch or so. Ben’s nostrils flare and he sucks in a sharp breath. Oh. I can feel him. And he feels glorious. I involuntarily part my lips as I look at him. Ben curses, shooting upright and away, and I shudder, wanting him back, wanting lots of other things I can’t have.

      “It isn’t like I planned on falling.” I sit up, pretending I am not a horny hussy where Ben is concerned. My hands are quickly covered in muck. It’s slimy and cool to the touch. I take a handful of sludge and pat my arm with it. I might as well take a mud bath at this point. “It just happened.”

      Ben looks at me, mud smeared across his face and hair. “Right, like you didn’t push me earlier.”

      Scowling, I look from him to the scene below, and then I shove off with my arms and careen downward, laughing wildly as I shoot down the mud slide. Head back, I whoop as I fly along the ridges and dips of the hill, jostled and jerked side to side, which makes me laugh more.

      “Avery! What the hell?” Ben hollers after me.

      “Come on, it’s fun!”

      I land on a bump, the air knocked from my lungs, and skid off course, rolling the rest of the way. Peals of ragged merriment leave me as I go. I don’t remember having this much fun ever. Maybe that one time when I was thirteen and my friend and I went on a carnival ride that made us spin upside down. I puked. I hope I don’t puke this time. I land on my back, arms and legs sprawled, eyes closed, laughing so hard I hiccup.

      A few short breaths later, Ben lands near me, his arm whacking my leg as he abruptly stops.

      I lift my head and grin at him. “Was that fun or what?”

      “I suppose sliding the rest of the way down the hill just happened too,” he gets out, panting.

      “You rolled all the way down, did you not?”

      “Yes,” he admits grudgingly.

      “Did you have fun?”

      “No.”

      I lift my eyebrows.

      “Maybe a little.” Ben winces and sits up. “I can’t believe you did that.”

      I eye his muddy exterior. “I could say the same about you.”

      The rain continues to come down, streaking our faces with tiny, dirty rivers.

      “You don’t fit with who you were at the office.” He glares at me as if this knowledge is one more thing to hold against me.

      “Yeah, well, neither do you.”

      “I am exactly as I’ve always been.” Ben gingerly stands, mud plopping from his clothes to the ground.

      Stuffy, by the books, anal. Yeah, he’s probably right.

      I sniff the air. It smells like worms, the realization jolting me to my feet in a flash. Worms can stay in the earth, where they belong. When the rain stops as suddenly as it started, and the sun appears, I blink in consternation. We are covered in mud that will soon dry to dirt. Wonderful. But then I notice something to the left of us and I don’t even care about the dirt.

      “Ben, look.” I grab his arm without thinking, squeezing as I point to the rainbow above the mountains, spanning forever and ending somewhere in the clouds we can’t see. It’s beautiful, and the sight of it brings me hope. I stand still, drinking it in. This is something I like about outside, along with air.

      Ben turns, standing beside me, his arm brushing mine. “I see it.”

      “Isn’t it breathtaking?”

      He doesn’t answer, but I don’t care.

      “In life, remember that rainbows always come after rain,” I murmur as I take in the colorful beam, thinking of my mom.

      “You pitched that for an inspirational greeting-card company.”

      “I did.”

      “After I pitched my own quote.”

      I bite my lip, turning away as I wince.

      Resentment coats his next words. “The company picked yours.”

      “Mine was better,” I retort. It was too; I’m not being conceited. “‘Only after the rain comes the rainbows’ isn’t as catchy.”

      “It is almost identical.” Ben sounds petulant.

      “Well, Duke thought mine was better.”

      “You basically worded yours the same as mine but acted like it was way different because you rearranged the sentence and added ‘in life’. So different.”

      I begin to walk, picking up my pace. “What’s your point?”

      “You stole my words and tweaked them. You’re a thief.”

      My back stiffens. I might be a thief, but it isn’t for stealing Ben’s words.

      “But then, I guess I already knew that,” he finishes.

      “Keep the barbs coming.” I clench my jaw. “I know they make you feel better.”

      “Not especially.”

      “All right, Ben,” I shout, throwing my hands in the air as I whirl around, startling him. “Let’s have it!”

      He blinks. “What?”

      “Tell me all the ways you hate me,” I urge. “Get it all out. Come on, it’s obvious you have a lot of reasons.”

      A glower takes over his features. “You act like I shouldn’t be mad about it.”

      “Mad? Yes. Yes, you should have been mad. But being mad forever does you more harm than it does me. It’s over. It’s done. I did a shitty thing and I can’t take it back. Either move on or—or get out of my life,” I stammer, not really meaning the words.

      His eyes harden. “Hard to do when we’re stuck together.”

      “Well, as soon as we aren’t, you can do it.”

      Ben nods. “I will do that. Because you know what, Avery? I quit.”