Page 33 of Wildfire
Sharing with Xander has been a great arrangement so far. Other than being very competitive, which I learned yesterday, he’s usually super chill, tidy, and seems to have this radar for when to stop before his questions go too far. When he realized Emilia, Aurora, and I go to the same college and I shrugged when he asked if we knew each other, mumbling, “Sort of,” he didn’t push.
We sit in a comfortable silence, another thing I appreciate, and Xander scrolls on his phone. I’m too scared to get mine out again, so I give Trout all of my attention and think about what JJ said.
“You excited for training?” Xander asks, looking up from his phone.
Even though there are camp nurses, we all have to do basic first aid training. Anything is better than the harness safety training this morning where I spent the majority of my time eye level with Xander’s dick. Don’t even get me started on all the icebreakers, whichare now my least favorite thing in the world. “At this point, anything that’s not an icebreaker is a win in my eyes.”
He groans, throwing his head back against the bean bag and Trout jumps at the noise. “Someone should tell them the ice is officially broken. I saw Clay naked this morning by accident; you don’t get more broken than that.”
I was attempting to herd my dog shadows out of our cabin this morning when Xander practically crashed into me looking mortified. “Walked into the wrong cabin,” he spluttered, smothering a horrified scoff with his hand. “Wasn’t paying attention. Oh my God.”
“Maybe we need to refreeze the ice a little, in that case,” I joke. “You want me to fill up your water bottle before we head out?”
He nods, handing it over. “Thanks, bro.”
I’m walking toward the water machines when someone turns the corner, colliding with me. Dropping the bottles to the floor, I catch the arms of the person stumbling away, keeping them upright.
“I’m so sorry. I wasn’t looking where I was go—” Aurora finally looks up after finding her balance. “Oh, hi.”
“Hi.” She moves and that’s when I realize I’m still holding her and her eyes are puffy. “Are you okay?”
“I’m great,” she says immediately, giving me a bright smile that looks entirely pretend. I’ve seen her real smile before—making her smile and laugh is ingrained in my brain—but this isn’t it. “Everything is wonderful.”
Everything doesn’t feel wonderful. I pick up the bottles I dropped and take the few seconds without her sad, green eyes looking at me to rack my brain to work out what could be wrong with her. I overheard her say to Maya this morning that she dislikes being paired with Clay because she doesn’t like the way he looks at her body when they’re working together.
I also don’t like the way he looks at her body when they work together, or the way his hands stay on her a little bit longer thannecessary. But I put that down to jealousy, not substance in my concerns. Aurora and Maya agreed he’s harmless, just annoying, which made me feel better and a little less like I should push him into the lake or into the path of a bear.
“I’m just getting some water for me and Xander.”
“Water is good,” she says far too enthusiastically for the topic of conversation. “Water is, uh, hydrating.”
Tucking the bottles back under my arm, I clear my throat. “Aurora, did something happen?”
“Nothing that I shouldn’t expect at this point. It’s fine. I’m fine. Everything is peachy,” she says. I’m not sure whom she’s working hardest to convince, me or herself. Before I can ask anything else, she takes a big step back, fake smile still in place. “See you at training.”
She’s gone before I even have time to respond.
THE SOLAR-POWERED FANS POINTING TOWARDthe six of us as we wait for our instructor are useless in the face of the exceptionally hot afternoon sunshine.
“I can’t live like this,” Xander groans, fanning himself with his hand. “Why couldn’t we have done this inside?”
“How do you think I feel?” Maya says, wafting her Brown Bears staff T-shirt. “We don’t get sun in England.”
“I’m more worried that the resuscitation dummies are going to melt,” I say, nodding toward the pile of plastic.
“Hello, hello. I’m here. Sorry, everyone, I’m Jeremy and you should be”—he checks his clipboard—“Alexander, Aurora, Clay, Emilia, Maya, and Russ? Yes? Perfect.”
I’m a fan of Jeremy straight away because he immediately complains about how hot it is and moves us and the equipment into the shade. He also doesn’t pick me to do the demonstration, which also scores him points.
Emilia is fully sweating and panting by the time she manages to get Xander into the recovery position, but when she’s done, she sits back and admires her hard work with her hands on her hips, like a proud dad.
“The rest of you pair up and practice, please,” Jeremy announces. “I’ll be watching; please shout up if you’re struggling with anything.”
Clay immediately moves toward Aurora, but I’m closer to her. “Come on,” I say, gesturing toward one of the empty practice mats. “I’ll do you first.”
“Oh, okay.” I think this is the quietest I’ve seen her since we arrived a few days ago. I know I shouldn’t expect anything better after avoiding her for forty-eight hours, but I still don’t know what upset her earlier and it’s bugging me. “Thank you.”
We both get into position, her on the mat and me beside her, and I suddenly can’t remember how to do this. I’ve done first aid training before, because Coach Faulkner makes us do it every year, telling us we’ll never know when we’ll need it—and yet here I am once again, clueless.
