Metal from the few items he used at the campfire slam together, and I open my eyes.
Dirk crouches at the edge of the river and cleans the dishes. When he finishes, he tugs his toiletry bag and the towel I folded out of his rucksack and removes his clothes.
I should look away, but once again, I'm too mesmerized by his body. He takes a few steps into the river then dives under the current.
What do I do now?
Why did I have to do that?
When he finishes washing up, I remove my clothes and go into the river.
He walks toward me and hands me the bag of products then points to a rock. "Don't go past there, or the current will drag you downstream."
He's not going to stay in with me?
Crap.
"Dirk—"
"Let's not Zoe." He stomps away.
My gut drops further as I ogle his backside.
He dries off, puts his clothes on, and turns. "We should get going soon."
"Oh. Sorry." I quickly bathe, and when I step out, he's several feet down the path with his back to me. Once I'm dressed, I meet up with him, and we walk in silence.
Throughout the morning, I glance over at him. I've messed up bad, and I don't know how to fix it. Not once does he even peek my way. His chiseled face is hardened, and his expression never changes.
We walk for several hours, and I finally can't take it anymore. I reach for his forearm, and he freezes.
In Spanish, I say, "I'm a hot mess."
He briefly closes his eyes but then finally turns to me.
"I shouldn't have done that. I'm sorry," I tell him.
"What do you want from me, Zoe?"
You. I just want you.
But my scared, screwed up self isn't going to go there.
"I don't know," I lie as my chest tightens.
He clenches his jaw.
Silence.
He nods. "This is my fault. I shouldn't have touched you. It's unprofessional of me, and I'm sorry I put you in this position. We have a long way to go—"
"I know. I'm sorry—"
"It's not your fault. Let's keep it in the professional zone, and we won't have any more issues, okay?"
No.
Tell him that isn't what you want.
It's what he wants.
You're such a mess and don't even know how to take care of yourself right now.
"O...okay. If that's what you want?"
"It is."
Hearing him say those two words is the equivalent of a razor blade slashing my heart.
I force a smile. "So we're good then?"
"Yeah."
My stomach growls.
"Hungry?"
I shrug. "I can keep going."
"Let's stop and have some food." He pulls out two military packs and motions for me to sit. "Give your legs a break."
"You’re not going to kill anything?" I tease, but it feels off.
"Not this time," he quietly replies and sits.
We eat in uncomfortable silence. The entire time, I want to scoot closer to him, tell him I'm the world's biggest idiot and explain how I'm messed up and scared.
But I don't.
My self-preservation won't allow me. There are lots of men who have legitimately hurt me sexually and verbally. But Dirk has the ability to affect me how I’ve not let others.
He's too real...an epitome of perfection. And it's not just his ripped body or sexy hero status. It's him. Who he is. What he stands for. What he's personally risking just to make sure I'm okay.
If I had never changed managers and gotten involved with the Global Leaders, I wouldn't hesitate to be with him. But I'm not the same girl I used to be. The sexual and verbal abuse I've learned to take. The Global Leaders have conditioned me to it, I suppose.
Dirk could rip me up and spit me out emotionally, and I don't think I would survive it.
So I eat my portion of food, drink the water he gives me, and stay in the safe zone instead of telling Dirk how I feel about him. When it comes time to get up, he takes my hands and helps me off the ground.
As soon as I'm on my feet, he releases me, and the drop in my gut resumes.
He digs in his bag and hands me a slippery elm. "Here. Take this for your throat."
"Thanks."
We walk all day, on and off, following the river, not saying too much. Towards nighttime, a bad storm hits, and we get soaked. Dirk tries to shield me with his body, but it's pointless.
Lightning streaks through the sky, and I think I must be seeing things. "Is that a parking lot?" I yell.