Page 41 of Here for a Good Time
“You want us to, what, forage for mushrooms?” I decide that I don’t like this alpha male Zwe who dismisses my suggestions without any further discussion, and seems very much like he’s trying to show off in front of his new crush. And while Leila might be used to hunting for her food, I know for a fact that city boy Zwe is definitively not. “We’re not fucking Bear Grylls, Zwe!”
“Like I said, we can take care of that.” Leila gestures at her and Antonio. “We’re used to these woods.”
“We’re going to have to findsomethingto cook our food with,though, not to mention keep us warm,” Zwe muses. “We almost froze to death last night, and that was while you—” He raises his brows at me in a pointed manner, and I want to slap them right off of his face. “—were wearing a sweatshirt. You’re in only a T-shirt now.”
“A fireisthe best course of action moving forward,” Leila puts in.
I grit my teeth before I say something I’ll regret. What the hell are they doing, tag teaming right now?
“How are we even going to start a fire?” I ask, fixing my stare on Zwe. “And what happens when the people with the guns who are looking for us see the smoke from your fire?”
His jaw hardens as though he wasn’t expecting me to make a valid point.
“Oh, that’s easy,” Leila’s breezy voice comes.Of courseit’s easy for her. “Fire pit.”
“What’s a fire pit?” Zwe and I ask at the same time.
“It’s what it sounds like,” Antonio says, rolling his eyes likeDuh. “It’s a pit that you dig into the ground so you can start a fire underground. It produces minimal smoke so unless you’re really looking for it in the sky, which will be even harder to do with no sunlight, there’s almost no way you’ll spot it.”
“The fire also burns hotter because it’s contained within the pit,” Leila explains. “And it’s easier to start even when it’s windy, which it will be by nightfall. Do either of you have a pair of reading glasses, by any chance?”
“I do,” Zwe says.
“But we’ve never built a fire above ground, let aloneunderit,” I point out. “What if—”
“Oh, that’s okay, I’ve done them plenty of times!” Leila says with a casual wave. “My grandparents taught me. Come on, let’sfind a place to settle for the night, and leave the fire to me and Antonio. It’s the least I can do, seeing as how the shortcut was my idea.”
“The shortcut that doesn’t exist,” Antonio mumbles.
“One more word”—she points a sharp, manicured finger at him—“and I will chop you up and use your limbs for kindling.”
Antonio sticks out his tongue. “Stupid, you’d be smelling burnt flesh the whole night.”
“I won’t mind if it’syourflesh.”
My gag reflex starts to act up at the increasing mention of burnt human flesh. “In that case,” I interrupt, “how can Zwe and I help?” I want to be a team player, and I suppose giving my ankle a rest wouldn’t be the worst idea.
“Hmmm, do you want to find food?” Leila offers. “We can set up close to the river. There’s fish in there. I can clean it if you can catch it.” I can’t stop my face from grimacing, and Zwe must do the same, because Leila laughs and adds, “Or we could stick to fruits and vegetables? Although maybe we stay away from the mushroom foraging tonight, just in case. Let’s stick to stuff that we know for a fact won’t kill us in our sleep.”
“Let’s do that,” Zwe says. He grins at her as though they’ve exchanged some inside joke, even though they… haven’t. “But Poe, you should rest,” he says to me. “I can find the food.”
“No, I can help,” I insist.
Zwe glances down at my foot and shakes his head. “We need you to be better tomorrow. Keep that ankle elevated and take it easy for the rest of the night. The three of us have got this.”
I don’t want to feel like a useless loser while the three of them set about on their specific tasks, but my painhasbeen gradually spiking over the last half hour. “Okay,” I relent. Then, so as not tobe rude, add, “But if any of youdoneed me at any point, you’ll let me know?”
“Promise. But for now, you rest,” Leila says, and guilt gives me a sharp slap in the face. Of course Zwe likes her—she’s sweet and funny and can build afire pitwith her bare hands. Silently, I vow to be less irritable going forward.
Once we’ve settled on a spot, and because it’s a) starting to get too dark to do much else and b) one of the few things I actually havetodo, I take out my laptop and pull up my draft.
“I thought you were joking about bringing your laptop,” Antonio laughs. I’d mentioned it to him earlier.
“I’m an author,” I explain. “My latest book draft is on here. I didn’t have a chance to connect to the Wi-Fi and email it to myself.”
At that, Antonio’s expression changes, and he lets out an impressed whistle. “Oh shit, that’s fucking cool. I’ve never met an author before. Hey, are you going to put us in the acknowledgments section of this book?”
“Absolutely,” I say, meaning it.
