Page 32 of My Favorite Bad Decision
“Are you going to share?” I ask.
“You’ll have to work for it,” he says, pushing the words out through his lips in a way that is undeniably sexual.
I blink in surprise and he laughs. “No, I’m not asking you to prostitute yourself. Just answer a question.”
I frown, suddenly wary. There are questions he could ask that I definitely don’t want to answer. There are questions, in fact, that Iwon’tanswer, even when I pose them to myself. “What?”
“The guy you were so crazy about, before Blake. What happened?”
I grow still for a moment, then flop down on top of my sleeping bag. “Are you hoping I’ll say I broke up with him by text?”
He shakes his head. “I don’t think it ended like that or you wouldn’t be this messed up over it.”
No, I guess I wouldn’t.
“He died,” I reply. “And I really don’t want to discuss it. You can keep your Raisinets.”
He places them on my sleeping bag. “No,” he says softly. “You’ve earned them.”
10
KIT
DAY 6: KARANGA TO KOSOVO
13,600 feet to 16,000 feet
“Good morning,” says Joseph, tapping on our tent in the darkness.
“Good morning,” replies Miller politely.
“Fuck,” I whisper, surly as ever.
I slept incredibly poorly last night. My heart was hammering—I’m not sure if it was the altitude or just sheer nerves because today is basicallythe day. We’ll spend the morning climbing—passing Barufu Camp, where the bulk of the people on this route stay—and continuing on to Kosovo, ninety minutes closer to the summit.
We’re supposed to sleep for a few hours after dinner at Kosovo—I’ll undoubtedly be too nervous—and then begin the summit at midnight. Which means I’ll be climbing for roughly twelve hours up and several hours down before I get a decent night’s rest again.
Miller turns on the lamp. “You okay?” he asks, surveying my face, that pretty mouth of his in a worried pout, a furrow between his brows.
“Just great,” I reply with a forced smile.
He sighs. “I didn’t sleep either.”
I press my face to my hands. “How the fuck are we going to climb all day, then climb for another six or seven hours at midnight?”
He elbows me. “Because Gerald will run his mouth if we don’t.”
I lift my head with the start of a smile. “What happens to all the people who don’t have a Gerald on their trip, I wonder?”
He grins. “Gerald would say they all go down in stretchers.”
I laugh and push out of my sleeping bag. “You’re a much better tentmate than I am,” I admit, pulling on my fleece. “You’ve got a better attitude.”
He begins sliding his pants on. “That’s the first flattering thing you’ve ever said in all the years we’ve known each other.”
“I’m not sure it was flattering,” I reply. “I bitch a lot. I’ve set the bar pretty low.”
He tugs on a lock of my hair. “I sort of enjoy your bitching, Kitten.”
