Page 78 of Cloudy With a Chance of Bad Decisions

I kept an eye out for Alex—but he was not in our tent or the bathroomswhen I hurried to dress for the day. I debated treating my wounds, but didn’t want to draw more negative attention to myself. If people saw them, what would they think? That I was inept as well as volatile. Brendon’s voice was as loud as ever in the back of my mind.

You’re too fussy.

I left the burns alone.

Luckily for me, I’d packed a few sets of shorts in my backpack along with a single pair of jeans, so I could be more comfortable as I moved. I’d run out of clothing soon, but for now I was covered.

I hadn’t seen Alex at breakfast.

Which of course had made me begin to stress.

He’s not avoiding you.

He’s with his sister.

The bride.

Because that would be logical,I told myself, even though part of me still remained worried.

I was supposed to be avoidinghim, not the other way around.

Maybe he was off managing…something? Like he had when we’d run errands together. All effortless confidence and poise. Alex always seemed to know exactly what to say to get what he wanted. I’d watched him charm the florist out of a mental breakdown.

Empathy was not something he lacked. Nor was it possible to ignore how good at social engineering he was.

Which only served to remind me how embarrassing last night had been.

He’d probably seen right through me.

Thinking about how stupid I’d looked squirming into his sleeping bag because of a fuckingbugmade my skin crawl. There wereso many reasonsto stay away from him I was beginning to lose track.

Which was why I was shocked-horrified-elated to discover Alex waiting at cabin two for the hike with the rest of the dude-bros. He offered me a grinthat I did not return.

Fuck.

There went my plan to avoid him.

Right down the drain.

Honestly, why was I surprised? Nothing on this trip had gone to plan. Not my backpack, not my suitcase, not our sleeping arrangements.

Half an hour later, the sun had climbed high enough it dripped through the trees. Bursts of heat passed over my skin every time I stepped between the shadows. I was the slowest in the group, which was unsurprising, but I was content to linger at the back.

Avoid, avoid,avoid, that was my new motto.

Joe stuck to my side. He was as stoic as always, thick and silent as the trees we passed. Every so often, he’d point out a bird in the trees, and I’d jump, terrified of the great outdoors and all its perils.

“Magpie,” he grunted when a black and white bird hopped along a log to our left.

It was…admittedly beautiful. A lot less intimidating than most other wild creatures, that was for sure.

Animals weren’t afraid of Joe. They flew in close—one time, so close, I was worried a robin was about to land directly on his head. Like he was a Disney princess.

I asked him questions to fill the silence. About his farm fund. About his hunt for land. About whether or not he was interested in living anywhere but Vermont. To which the answer was maybe.

Apparently, there were a lot of birds there.

And farms.

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