Love without a Compass. Lindy Zart

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СКАЧАТЬ and yes, we are obligated to work together to get through today but talking is not a requirement. In fact, let’s not.”

      It’s supposed to be four days of this. Four days of hell spent trekking over countryside with a man who loathes me. Wonderful. Exactly how I want to spend my time, following a map and compass with checkpoints through uncivilized terrain. I kick at the ground, hurting my big toe in the process.

      I stop and pull the map from my back pocket, pretending Ben didn’t say that. Pretending he isn’t justified in his aversion to me. One day, he’ll forgive me. I am going to make sure of that. But for now, we need to focus on what’s required of us to pass our mandatory continuing education class.

      “Let’s see what we need to do first,” I offer just to irritate Ben, and come to a stop.

      Ben turns toward me and shoves his glasses up his long nose, the ever-changing shade of his eyes striking against the backdrop of his olive skin and dark hair. I envy the golden sheen of his skin. He’s probably one of the lucky people who never burn, their skin only darkening with sun exposure.

      Fair-skinned and fair-haired, I am prone to burn instead of tan. Regrettably, I freckle too. My skin is already feeling the effects of the early morning sun.

      “I’m going to look at the map now,” I announce loudly in an attempt to get a reaction from Ben.

      There isn’t one.

      As the seconds tick by and I simply watch Ben, he gives me an exasperated look and gestures for me to continue. I lift an eyebrow, the map remaining closed.

      His teeth are bared as he says, “Will you please check the map, Avery?”

      “Yes, I will, Ben, thanks for asking,” I reply pleasantly, hiding a smile when Ben rolls his eyes.

      I unfold the map and study the colorful landscape paired with specific directives. Although I know it isn’t, the marked-off area we are to navigate seems endless. It’s pocketed with lakes, caves, trails, and other vague, ominous wildlife pictures. I chew on my lower lip, wondering about the sanity of this whole thing.

      It seems an archaic form of employee bonding to me. But then Extreme Retreat, the company Duke hired to orchestrate this obstacle course of madness, is known for their wild, sometimes dangerous, means of bringing coworkers together. No electronic devices, including cell phones, are allowed. They didn’t even let us have first-aid kits or flares. I think whoever runs the organization is partially crazy.

      Their motto is actually “There is no don’t, only do.” Being nontraditional himself, I can see why this organization appealed to Duke.

      Anne Dobson, one of our coworkers, got into a tug-of-war match with an Extreme Retreat employee when they attempted to take her cell phone from her. Besides the map I hold, all we were given is the backpack presently resting on Ben’s shoulders and were told it has everything we’re allowed to have, or will need for the day. Unless there is a room inside it with air conditioning, running water, and takeout cuisine on hand, I tend to disagree.

      I read the first objective on the list. Goal number one: Hike Crow Hill. Retrieve red flag.

      “The first checkpoint is at the end of a two-mile hike.” I look up, frowning. Working at keeping my voice unconcerned, I say, “It’s called ‘Crow Hill.’ Why do you think it’s called that?”

      Ben resumes walking, not answering.

      I lengthen my stride, catching up to him.

      He scowls and moves faster.

      I do the same, minus the scowl.

      We continue this way until we’re jogging side by side up a narrow rocky incline with towering stones surrounding us. A worn green sign, along with an arrow, announces we’re on Crow Hill. I’m not a runner and it soon shows. Panting, my legs and lungs scream at me to stop, but I don’t slow down. I’m not slowing down until Ben does. I glance at him, taking in the determined set of his face.

      I don’t think he ever plans on slowing down.

      I push myself harder when I begin to fall behind, full-on running now. Ben moves ahead of me, his legs long and leanly muscled. He doesn’t appear to be sweating, whereas I already feel the salty wetness trickling down my spine and the sides of my face. A wheezing sound has replaced my normal breathing. I tell myself to pick up the pace, but my legs don’t want to cooperate, and that is unacceptable. I force my legs to go. Anything Ben can do, I can do—sometimes, even better.

      We briefly exchange looks crackling with intensity.

      As we near the end of the trail, it takes me far too long to realize what we’re doing, and that it is exactly what put us where we are. Working against each other instead of together. There’s friendly competition and then there’s rivalry.

      Duke was right to send us here. Ben and I have competed since the day I started working for the advertising company. It’s instinctive, part of our natures. Why would I think now would be any different?

      And it needs to be.

      “We’re supposed to be a team,” I remind him around gasps of air.

      “Now you want to want to be a team?” Ben scoffs, his form and breathing steady. “Forget it.”

      “We’ll be in trouble if we don’t.”

      He pulls up abruptly, jerking around to face me. I skid to a stop, gravel rolling beneath my tennis shoes. I fight to breathe, partially from the run, mostly from the man before me. Ben’s eyes are alive with simmering emotion, sparking green and electrocuting with thunderous gray. His chest lifts and lowers as I watch, finally seeing a hint of exertion. Ben’s hair is damp, the ends curling around his ears.

      The air turns stifling as we stare at each other, the heat combustible. Ben looms over me, dark and furious. Desire streams through my veins, and I see it reflected in his eyes. I’ve wanted Ben since the moment I met him. I saw the same lightning bolt response in Ben. He tries to hide it beneath a shield of resentment, but sometimes, like now, it finds its way through the cracks.

      “I won’t be in trouble,” Ben says confidently. He’s probably right.

      “Do you want to take the chance?” My voice is scratchy.

      Ben studies me, his gaze dropping before slowly returning to my face. I feel that look as strongly as if he’d physically touched me. It steals my air; it turns my body to warm mush. Something unmistakable and equally unnamable glints in his eyes. “With you?”

      He’s toying with me. I know it, and I can’t seem to care. Because he’s looking at me in a way that makes me forget everything, even why I sought a job for Sanders and Sisters in the first place. Too often, Ben makes it hard to remember what I promised myself, what I vowed to my mom.

      Unconsciously, as if I can’t control myself, I step forward.

      Ben steps back.

      “Maybe,” is all I allow myself to admit.

      “You’ve never been very good at being direct, have you?”

      I watch the fire die out, feeling the loss of it as if it’s real and not only in his eyes. СКАЧАТЬ