“It’s Monday night.” I sit on the foot end of our mummy-shaped sleeping bag and stare up at the trees through the transparent top of our tent, listening to the chorus of croaks and chirrups all around us. Everything feels oddly peaceful. “We’ve missed the car that was supposed to pick us up at the parque entrance. But Genesis’s plans change on an hourly basis, and there’s no cell reception in the park. Abuelita won’t consider us truly missing until we’re at least twenty-four hours late.”
At the head end of the sleeping bag, Luke takes off his outer shirt and rolls it into the shape of a pillow. “Even if they didn’t get my text, when I’m not back tonight, my parents will call in the National Guard. Or whatever the Colombian equivalent is.”
“Do they know who you’re with? Or where you went?”
“I told them, but there’s no telling how much they processed.”
“They don’t care where you’re going or who’s with you?”
“It’s not that, really. My friends whose parents are divorced think it’s great that mine are still so into each other. But the thing about happily married parents is that sometimes they’d be just as happily married even if they weren’t parents.” He shrugs and unties his boots. “But once they realize I’m gone, they will definitely sound the alarm.”
“Good.”
“So . . . how do you want to do this?” Luke stares down at the sleeping bag so deliberately I realize he’s avoiding looking at me. But there’s nothing he can do about the flush creeping up his neck. “I’ll sleep on the ground. You can have the bag.”
“It’s only fair if we share.”
“Yeah. Okay.”
I unzip the bag, but spreading it out in the cramped space is like playing Twister in a cardboard box. Luke’s face gets redder every time I bump into him or have to duck beneath his arm, but he stays inside the tent, as if he needs to prove he’s comfortable sharing it with me.
“We should get some sleep,” I say at last. “We need to be up at first light.”
My legs ache and my head is throbbing, and now that we’ve stopped hiking, I can’t imagine taking another step before the sun comes up. Though it can’t be any later than eight p.m., I’ve never felt more exhausted in my life.
After a couple of awkward attempts to get comfortable without touching each other, we finally give up and lay spine to spine, with Luke nestled between me and Moisés’s rifle.
His warmth against my back feels surprisingly intimate in the chilly night. I am suddenly conscious of every breath I take, because he can feel the movement. I can’t remember how to breathe at a natural pace.
If I breathe too fast, he’ll think I’m nervous. If I breathe too slowly, he’ll think I’m asleep, and I’ll have to pretend I am.
“Hey, Maddie,” Luke whispers.
“Yeah?”
“Are you scared?”
“Terrified,” I tell him. “You?”
“Yeah. Me too.”
I can feel his heart race through the back of his shirt, which makes me wonder whether he’s more scared of armed kidnappers . . . or sharing a tent all night with me.