Page 27 of My Favorite Bad Decision
Two hours later,the dinner bell rings, and we pull on the rest of our clothes and head to the dining tent.
Dinner is the liveliest time of the day, all of us giddy with relief at making it through the climb, and too exhausted to be as guarded as we might be under normal circumstances.
The topics vary from what lies ahead to weirdly personal stories about life back home. Already, I know things about these people I don’t know about my colleagues, and things I probablyshouldn’tknow as well: that Leah once slept with a cousin—they were both drunk and it was dark; that Miller’s sister once convinced a guy to leave the priesthood and then dumped him; that Stacy once hit a pedestrian with her car. I’ve told them that Charlie—my darling but utterly douchey stepbrother—once dated a girl and her mom simultaneously.
Tonight, Stacy tells us a story about Maddie wanting to be a singer when she was little and how they couldn’t bring themselves to tell her she was tone deaf.
Maddie rolls her eyes. “Thanks for sharing that with everyone, Mom. And I think I wanted to be an actress.”
“I know a girl who went to Hollywood to become an actress,” Leah says cheerfully, “but she wound up as a sex worker. Then she got HIV. I have no idea what she’s doing now.”
She laughs at this and no one else does. “Uh, what did you want to when you were little, Kit?” Stacy asks, filling in the awkward silence.
My smile wavers. I didn’t want to be a singer or an actress. I wanted to do something that simply involved intellect and perseverance, not luck, which means I’ve got no excuse.
Since my earliest memories, I’ve wanted to be a doctor, but if I tell them that, someone would say, “Why didn’t you just go to medical school?”, at which point I’d have to reply, “I did.” That’s a whole painful conversation I don’t care to have.
“A singer,” I tell them.
Miller raises a brow. I guess he knows it was a lie. I really hope he doesn’t ask why I told it.
When we return to the tent, we strip out of our jackets and pants and hang them on a makeshift clothesline Miller managed to string through the tent.
“You sure you don’t need to fully undress again?” Miller asks as I crawl into my sleeping bag.
“I’m sure.” I frown at him, gnawing at my lower lip. “Hey, when you get back, can you not mention…any of this?”
He folds his pillow in half and turns toward me, raising a brow and failing to suppress his grin. “You mean the fact that you were so desperate to see me naked?”
“Right, mostly that,” I reply drily. “Blake isn’t some crazy jealous guy, but…there’s no way this would sound good.”
“Ah, yes,Blake. When’s this supposed engagement taking place, exactly?”
I narrow my eyes. “Stop saying his name like it’s a punchline. You don’t even know him.”
“Idoknow him actually,” he says. “He was a year behind me at Andover.”
I guess I should have realized this, and I’m a little embarrassed that I didn’t put it together sooner. “So you’re saying the dislike in your voice is about your peripheral impressions of a high school junior, fifteen years ago? That seems fair.”
He flips on his back and stares at the tent ceiling. “I don’t dislike Blake. He’s a decent guy, and he played college lacrosse, as I recall, so he’d provide your future offspring the coordination you appear to lack.”
I fight a smile as I give him the finger. “You definitely have atonewhen you say his name.”
“I just don’t know that I like him for you, and neither does your dad. He says you’re settling.”
I roll my eyes. “Yes, let’s definitely take advice about my choices from a guy now ending his third marriage.”
Miller runs a hand through his hair, laughing, but the sound isn’t especially happy. “Wow. I thought you’d object to what was said, not the qualifications of the person who said it. You know, we’re four days into this trip and you haven’twillinglymentioned Blake once.”
“Am I supposed to? Am I supposed to be like, ‘Hey, Miller, let me tell you about my hot boyfriend while we hike’?”
“No. Also he’s not that hot. But it’s sort of human nature to discuss the person you love when they’re not around. To mention a trip you’ve gone on, or something funny he said.”
I frown. Ihavementioned trips I’ve gone on with Blake. I had a whole conversation with Maddie about Anguilla. I just didn’t mention Blake because he wasn’t the interesting part…but saying that aloud probably won’t help my case.
“I don’t lead an especially exciting life,” I tell him. “That’s the problem—not Blake. I have nothing to discuss.”
“Didn’t you just attend Paris Fashion Week with the editor ofElite?” he asks. “Wasn’t that you posing in St Barth’s last year with a bunch of Oscar winners?”
