Love without a Compass. Lindy Zart

I look at the ground, my face flooding with heat now that that ordeal is over. That was a little embarrassing.

      I straighten my spine and go about my walk as if nothing happened. My eyes briefly meet Ben’s. He lifts his eyebrows.

      I give him a dirty look and walk faster, my back stiffening at the faint sound of chuckling behind me.

      3

      BEN

      Avery looks around, her expression less than cheerful. The sun is slowly lowering in the sky, mocking us with each hour that passes without us making any progress. Her tone is biting when she says, “Shouldn’t we have found the next checkpoint by now? Or, I don’t know, possibly the lodge?”

      Or people. Other people would have been nice to see at this point. I’m really surprised we haven’t run into anyone by now. I’m almost concerned. Are we so far spread out that it would be impossible to stumble upon our coworkers? Or have they all already gotten to the lodge? Not the most heartening thought.

      “This is where the next flag should be.” Woods stand before us, not a hint of a red flag in sight. I scratch the side of my head, my eyes searching again and again for something that isn’t there.

      Avery’s tone is particularly peevish as she demands, “Then why haven’t we found it?”

      “I don’t know.” I turn in a circle, taking in the vastness around us. “Why don’t you ask the trees?”

      With sweetness coating her tone, Avery says, “Why don’t you kiss my ass?”

      I shoot her an irritated look, mostly because I’d probably enjoy it. “Check the map again.”

      “You check the map.” A trifold pamphlet flies my way.

      I snatch it out of the air, meeting Avery’s grumpy look with a deadly one of my own. It doesn’t seem to faze her. She drops to the ground, crossing her arms and legs before turning her face to the side. This is another side of Avery I haven’t seen. She keeps them all well-hidden. I guess seeing her in such a sour mood wouldn’t look good for her office image. I’d love for Duke to witness Avery right now and know what she’s really like.

      Although, being stuck in the mountains even has me in a bad mood, so maybe this is not the best example.

      “We aren’t in the right place,” I announce.

      “How do you know?” Avery looks at me suspiciously.

      “This is near where we started, I’m sure of it.” I study the landscape that looks the same in every direction I turn. “We’re going in circles.”

      “How can we go up two hills and end up where we started?”

      “I don’t know, but we did,” I retort angrily.

      “But how do you know that?”

      “I don’t!” I lower my voice and add, “Not for sure.”

      Avery jumps to her feet, her eyes like live flames of golden wrath. “Then don’t say you do.”

      “Something isn’t right,” I insist.

      I swing the backpack off my shoulders and dig through it, pulling out a compass. I study the map, looking from it to the compass, and then I drop my hands and look at nothing, my vision going fuzzy. I don’t know where we are, and looking at the map or compass for guidance is meaningless.

      Before the trip, I read a bunch of articles about surviving in the wilderness, but it didn’t prepare me enough for what’s before us. According to where we should be, we need to head north. Only, I don’t know if we are where we’re supposed to be.

      “This is such bullshit,” I swipe an arm across my sweaty forehead and take my glasses with it. I lean down and shove them back on my face, the lenses smudged with fingerprints now.

      “Give me the map.” Avery motions for me to hand it over.

      I think about whipping it at her like she did to me, but somehow show restraint.

      “Maybe there are landmarks that will help us figure out where we are.”

      I snort, but keep my comments to myself.

      A frustrated sigh leaving her, Avery lowers her hand and lifts her golden head. “We should have been tying things to trees.”

      “That’s a good idea.” I look at Avery. “Got any rope handy? Ribbon? No?”

      “I’ll use my damn shirt,” she announces scathingly, already tearing at the hem of her shirt.

      A couple minutes go by with me enthralled by Avery’s antics. She grunts and tugs and jumps around as if she’s practicing some space-themed dance move. When it finally happens, the ripping sound is unusually loud.

      Avery lets out a cry of triumph as an uneven tail of pink fabric dangles from her hand. She lifts it with a raised eyebrow, part of her midriff taunting me as she does. I swallow around a dry throat. I tell myself to look away, but I don’t. Avery went from hating everything to do with outside to survivalist instincts. She is one surprise after another.

      Eyes riveted to the small expanse of lower back shown as she goes on her toes to tie a dirty pink knot around a low-hanging tree limb, it takes me a moment to realize something. “I have a red flag in the backpack. You could have used that instead of your shirt.”

      Avery blinks. “Well, I guess it’s too late for that now.”

      Her unfazed expression pulls a short bark of laughter from me. “It is indeed.”

      Eyes sparkling, Avery nods toward a clearing to our left and away from the wooded area. “Come on, let’s keep walking in that direction.”

      “Sure. Why not? It isn’t like either of us know where we’re going. Let’s make it interesting.”

      Avery narrows her eyes. “Was that sarcasm?”

      “Maybe.”

      BEN

      Fifteen minutes later and another hill ascended, the silence is broken. By me. And lamely.

      “Are you going to keep tearing parts of your shirt off?” I ask, the question on repeat in my head until it comes out of my mouth before I can stop it.

      “Why?” Avery gives me a sidelong look.

      Because I want you to, is the unbidden thought that pierces my mind.

      I shrug, aiming for nonchalance. “You’ll get cold.”

      She goes still abruptly, and I almost run into her. Avery glances at me. “Did you see that?”

      “See what?”

      Avery turns in a slow circle, her head tilted back. “There are birds.”

      I frown. “Yeah. There usually are outside. It’s where they—now, don’t be too stunned by this—live.”

      Wide eyes lock on me. “I don’t like birds.”

      “You don’t like birds?”

      Avery tugs at a string on the hem of her torn shirt, her next words a low mumble. “Scared of them, really. Terrified. I have nightmares about them.”

      It’s my turn to go motionless. From badass to coward to bat shit crazy, I’m getting whiplash from all Avery’s different personalities, and that’s just today. “Are you serious?”

      “I had a bad experience with one once, all right?” Her voice is high.

      “Did it happen to flip you…the bird?”

      Her eyes trained on something overhead, Avery flinches. “I’m not joking, Ben.”

      “I have to ask one thing: did you seriously not realize there were birds out here before now?”

      “I tried not to notice.”