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So now, I have some thinking to do.
Chapter Fourteen
Jax
“What does one wear to a foraging tour?”
When Sierra doesn’t answer her text right away, I follow up with:
“More importantly, what is foraging, and will I be expected to eat bugs?”
I’m staring at the clothes I packed and settle on some spandex athletic pants for stretch, in case there’s any climbing I have to do. My camo sports bra looks pretty hot with it, but I wonder if that’s too risqué, in case another family group has signed up for this.
God, I hope not. With Brooks’s luck, that Isaac kid will climb trees and throw rocks at monkeys or some other horrifying behavior.
I throw a tank top over my shirt, and
finally, Sierra texts me back.
“Brooks won’t ask you to eat bugs.”
“How do you know?”
“Are you in our room?”
I don’t know what’s up with that non sequitur. “Yeah, I’m about to grab a bite to eat and then meet Brooks. Why?”
“Because Austin and I need the room.”
The gasp that comes out of me is heard in the hallway. I know this because she tells me so, as she’s right outside the door. Instead, the two of them, Sierra and Austin, are right outside the door.
I open the door to see my best friend looking flushed and Austin looking very pleased with himself.
Rearing back, I explain, “Looks like you two already took care of hotel-room business!”
Sierra playfully swats my arm then pushes me out of the room. “Thanks, I love you, bye!”
I pout at the door and mutter that I love her too. My attitude swiftly changes when I recall that I was the one who encouraged her to loosen up to the idea of meeting someone on this trip.
Except now I have a problem: I forgot to grab my bug spray.
Knocking gently on the door, I don’t expect it to open again. Mainly because I’m pretty sure Sierra and Austin are making out up against the door: I hear moaning and kissing and fabric rustling.
To my surprise, the door opens, and Sierra’s hand pops out, dropping my bottle of bug spray in my hand.
“Thanks, mama,” I chirp and head off to my version of a hot jungle date.
Chapter Fifteen
Brooks
We move through the woods, gradually uphill as the trail hugs the side of the mountain. So far, we’ve gathered enough greens and mushrooms for a decent lunch. Protein seems to be out of the question, as I’m not going to push Jax to try grubs.
The long hike is sweaty, but Jax doesn’t complain once. She only asks once what to do if we’re confronted by wildlife, but I assure her the predatory jungle cats are no danger to us.
To take her mind off the unfamiliar, shadowy place while we gather our lunch, we share anecdotes from our childhood. I tell her I’ve always been fascinated by bugs, birds, and trees and even staged a protest in high school biology when they expected us to dissect a frog.
“They labeled me a wuss, and I never lived it down all through high school.”
