When Given a Lemon

Part 42

Back at camp, I have yet to see my tentmate.

Rather than worry, I decide they are still out in the field, alive and Lemon, along with Merryl and Denyel. I won't even entertain the idea that they could have been taken out by bugs or gone down into the tunnel with me. Somehow, I know that they would have made their presence known to me. That's what I've decided.

It's better than the alternative.

I've stripped out of the outermost layers of my uniform. It came off almost like a hard shell, the dried dirt caked on cracking and sloughing off the slackened material. Underneath the exterior I am soggy all the way to my bones. Cayeol took one look at me then despite being as exhausted as I was, grabbed me by my wet sleeve and dragged me down to bathe.

I hesitated as we stood by the edge but my nerves weren’t just fear of the cold pool because Cayeol decided at that moment to strip down to nothing, right in front of me, then look over his shoulder at me as if this was the most normal thing for him to be doing.

I mean…
…it is normal.

Our squad has all bathed in this cold lake together, several times. But this was the first time with only Cayeol.

Not that it matters.

It shouldn't matter. I don't want it to.

But for some reason, this time it feels like it does.

“Uh, Keenah?” He lifted his eyebrows. “Coming?”

I nodded.

“Then get in,” he waved me to join him, stepping further into the water, shivering as it passed his midriff.

Belatedly I force myself to move, realizing I've been standing as if Buzzballs had stolen my brain.

Fumbling with my clothes I strip down then step cautiously in, balancing the balls of my feet on the small rocks.

I've been working hard to get myself back into the water. Everyone has been helping, but as of yet I haven't gone further than sitting in the knee-deep shallows. That's what I do now. Not only because I don't think I'm ready to venture further, but also to get my embarrassed self covered up as soon as possible.

The key to getting through this awkward encounter is to not look at Cayeol, least not at anything below his eyes.

“Keenah,” I turn.

I'm already failing.

He wades over to me; too much exposed, offering to help me peel the gobs of mud and debris mattered into my hair.

It's all I can do to turn around with a “sure” to his offer, secretly relieved that him helping clean my hair gives an excuse to face away from him.

I'm really glad Lemon isn't here. They'd probably throw mud or do something else to make it even more awkward for me.

After our bath I rush back to our camp, as if distance or speed could outpace my thoughts. Not that there's anything to think about!

Cayeol is my fellow squad member and all they did was help me when I needed it. It's what any of them would do. I wish my thoughts would agree with me and behave themselves. Instead I'm forced to make an excuse about needing sleep and head to my tent.

After the ordeal I've been through, I'm sure he doesn't doubt the integrity of my words.

Not that I get any sleep.

First I am plagued by Cayeol's dripping form passing through thoughts I try to banish. But soon they turn to darker things. Moments from the tunnel and the battlefield start slipping in, at first filling in the background behind his burnished skin, then creeping forward until the nightmares and Cayeol seem to have switched places before he disappears all together.