can distract her.”
“OK.” I look back up the trail. “I should go back up.”
“Nah. She’s probably up there taking selfies, the shallow cunt.”
I shove him, harder than I mean to. “Stop it. That’s horrible.”
He gives me a strange look. “Jaysus, Nina. When did you start being such a softy? Do you actually like her now? I thought she was your sworn enemy.” He frowns. “How many times have I told you not to get emotionally involved?”
“I’m not. I just object to your language. It’s misogynist.”
He leans in, pressing himself against me, whispering in my ear. “The only cunt I like is yours.” His lips, damp and cool and salty, find mine.
“You’re awful,” I mutter, pushing him away.
But he nestles his nose into my neck and nibbles the nerve there until I gasp and writhe. “Cunt cunt cunt.”
Over his shoulder I see Vanessa coming down the trail toward us. She notices us embracing and stops just on the other side of the pines: Does she think I can’t see her? I watch her over Lachlan’s shoulder, feeling his lips buzz my clavicle, my sweat seeping through my shirt. I can see that she is riveted by the sight of us, even as she takes a polite step backward. And then her eyes finally creep up to meet mine and she freezes, and we are just looking at each other with a strange, cool understanding; even as Lachlan’s hands move under my damp T-shirt to cup my breast. I can see her measuring my desire, like a tourist in front of a museum exhibit. I see her own raw longing reflected back. It feels oddly intimate, as if we are the two people sharing this moment, and Lachlan isn’t even there.
Finally, she blinks and vanishes back into the woods. I close my eyes and kiss Lachlan back until my skin is vibrating and my pulse is singing along with the wind in the trees.
When I open my eyes again, Vanessa is standing right beside me. I startle, and jump away from Lachlan. “Oh, there you are!” I cry. Vanessa’s features are pinched with annoyance. She looks from Lachlan to me and then back again. She doesn’t like it when we’re not focused on her, I realize.
Lachlan runs a hand slowly across his lips, looking rather smug. “Ah, that’s good, yeah?” he says. “The team has reassembled itself. No casualties.”
Vanessa turns to me. “What happened to you?” she demands. “I thought you were coming back to get me.”
I’m surprised by the sharp tone in her voice. Is this still about the photo? Or is this sexual jealousy? How much has Lachlan been flirting with her? I make myself sound meek, apologetic, unthreatening. “My leg cramped up. Sorry.”
She tilts her head, looking baffled. “Really? I’m surprised. I mean, you’re a yoga instructor, right? And I barely move off my couch most days. Funny that.”
“Different muscle groups,” I offer.
“Well, I’m knackered, myself,” Lachlan interjects. “But we should crack on, shouldn’t we? That storm cloud is looking rather ominous.”
“The temperature has dropped. I’m freezing,” I say. And I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t help it. Just to prove a point, I grab Lachlan’s arm and drape it over my shoulder. “Warm me up, honey.”
Vanessa watches this interaction with measuring eyes; but then they swiftly clear, as if a wind had just chased off a cloud. “Oh, Ash, here—take my sweatshirt.” She tugs it over her ponytail and then thrusts it at me.
I disentangle myself from Lachlan and yank it over my head. The sweatshirt is thick and soft, and warm from her body. It even smells like her, like expensive lotion and lavender sachets; her presence on my body makes me feel disoriented, as if the boundaries between the two of us have grown thin. I wish I hadn’t taken it. But I smile because that’s what Ashley would do. “You’re so sweet.”
“It’s nothing,” she says. The dimples are back. And it seems like that unexpected fissure has been all smoothed over; but I also note, as we start back