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The officiator concludes her remarks, punctuated by gusts of wind rippling our garments. The mountain's own commentary.
And as if fate relishes in the cruel irony, the next twist of events pairs us once more, forcing us to check each other's gear and go through introductory stretches. I grit my teeth and approach the task with an air of professionalism, trying to keep my emotions in check.
I can't let him see me falter, so I focus on the gear, making sure everything is in place. Our fingers brush occasionally during the inspection, igniting small sparks of electricity that I pretend not to notice.
Willing my infatuation away, I survey the terrain, mentally picturing the course ahead. Jagged cliffs jut out at harsh angles, casting shadows over slopes littered with loose shale. In the distance, a thin ribbon of a waterfall spills over a sheer rock face, the mist catching the first light of dawn.
It's a landscape both dangerously inhospitable and starkly beautiful, almost taunting us to dare its unpredictable hazards. I glance around at the other aspirants, their expressions ranging from stoic determination to barely concealed anxiety.
My eyes drift up to Rylan, taking in his athletic frame and arrogant poise. He looks so at ease among these harsh elements,utterly in his element. I feel a flicker of doubt threatening to shake my confidence.Can I really beat someone so obviously in tune with this unforgiving environment?
After the gear check, we move on to the introductory stretches.
“You better not enjoy this,” I say, even as a little voice in my head points out that I onlywishhe was checking me out. I position myself next to him, mirroring his movements but maintaining a polite distance.
“Oh please, I have better things to do than you,” he says coldly, as we stretch our limbs, using each other for balance.
“Excuse me? Let’s get one thing straight, I am out of your league.”
“Whatever you say, princess.”
I fume, puffing my cheeks. This man does things to me. All of them bad.
His strength and agility are undeniable, and I can't help but admire his physical prowess. It's infuriating how his mere existence can affect me, and I instead try to channel my frustration into the stretches.
As we pull closer together, there's an undeniable tension in the air. Our arms are intertwined, our bodies almost touching. He smells like rich leather, his barrel chest wider than two of me.
“Maybe if you snap a picture, it will last longer,” he says, and I can tell he’s flexing.
“Why is it every time I’m having a bad day, it starts with you?”
“Excuse me, but I believe you’re the one who’s been following me? Kind of obsessed, if you ask me.”
My cheeks flush. “Obsessed?”
He begins to adjust my lower harness. “Trust me, toots, you’re the one out of your league. Little farm girl, what would I even do with you?”
“For starters, perhaps some laundry. I can smell you from here.” And yet, his rugged musky scent does something to me.
“Do you ever do anything but complain?”
“You’re the one talking to me!”
We lean into each other, our breathing nearly synchronized as we hold a position. It's an odd mix of competition and cooperation.
We break apart after a tense moment and move to the next stretch. This time, we extend our legs out in front of us. He leans down, and I can see down his shirt to his muscular bulging pecs.
“Eyes up here,” he says, catching me in the act.
“Dream on.” But I have to fight to keep from staring, his big, calloused hands in mine, noting his rugged scent and five o'clock shadow. I quickly change the subject and decide to test his knowledge. "Let's see what you recall from the briefings," I challenge. "What's the protocol if your harness fails mid-climb?"
He gives an irritated look but replies smoothly. "Attach safety tether to the rock face, engage gravity anchors, deploy emergency harness pack."
"Hmm, not bad," I concede grudgingly. We transition into a tricky hamstring stretch, pressing close. "But you surely missed this one. How do you treat snapjaw venom?"
Without hesitation, Rylan expertly rattles it off. "Immediately clean the wound, apply a tourniquet, administer anti-venom serum, elevate injury."
I purse my lips, refusing to show admiration for his spot-on response. "Alright, smart guy. Final question. What's the distress signal if you become stranded and your comm breaks?"
