A Beginner's Guide to the American West ✓

chapter four

f o u r

*

I must have fallen asleep at some point because when I'm awoken by Arjun's blaring alarm at six forty, I feel good. Relatively, anyway. I feel well-rested. A smidge annoyed by the alarm, though, considering he's not even in his bed and therefore not there to shut it up.

A clatter from the bathroom, and he appears with a towel around his waist, scurrying across the room to put a stop to the godforsaken ringing. He has the decency to shoot me an apologetic look, and I try to have the decency to tear my eyes from the water rolling down his chest. It's a lot for my tired brain to process. Thank god I'm lying on my front.

"Sorry. Forgot I set it. Bathroom's free, by the way."

I'm awake now, and we have to be downstairs in fifteen minutes, so I drag myself to the bathroom and step into the shower, still hot and steamed up from Arjun. He hasn't used the free shampoo and shower gel, so I take advantage and spend five minutes enjoying the water and washing L.A. off my body. It feels like a luxury to have the bathroom to myself after a few days of communal hostel cubicles.

When I return, Arjun's dressed in shorts and a loose shirt, and he's towelling his hair. Rather than take my clothes to the bathroom – which would make a lot more sense, I realise – I try to change as surreptitiously as I can, snatching moments when his back is turned or the towel is over his face. It would be quicker and easier if I wasn't as coordinated as a foal on ice.

I'm not sure how this will work when we're sharing a tent.

"Ready?" he asks as I stuff yesterday's clothes into a laundry bag inside my backpack.

"Mmhmm," I say. I'm as ready as I'll ever be, I think, which involves the faint discomfort of nerves fluttering in my stomach. I'm not sure who thought to compare that feeling to butterflies: they're so relaxing and I can watch them all day, but I can't deal with this twisting of my gut. Then again, it's only a fraction of the horrendous ache I've got to know over the last few weeks.

Arjun stops. Looks at me, his eyes angled slightly down. He's not tall, but he's a couple of inches taller than me. That's not hard. My twelve-year-old sister is almost the same height as me.

"You ok?" he asks. I have the opposite problem to resting bitch face: my expression is whatever I'm feeling at the time. I have a shitty poker face, far too easy to read.

I nod, and try a more convincing smile. I am ok. In the grand scheme of things, I'm fine. Totally fine. But I've led a pretty protected life, so this whole situation has really thrown me for a six. "Just tired," I say, and then in a moment of honesty I add, "A bit nervous. And worried I'll never learn everyone's names. Memory isn't my strong suit."

He gives me a strange sort of smile, like he's about to make a joke and then thinks better of it. Probably for the best. We've only known each other for about twelve hours.

"Well," he says after a moment, hauling his backpack onto his shoulders, "I think I've got everyone down."

"Already?"

"Memory's my strong point," he says. "The redhead is Carrie; the twins are Kristin and Klara; the Irish guy is Brannan; the leader is Sam."

"Two more to go," I say, though I'm impressed. I spent the whole meal with Brannan last night and even prided myself on remembering his name, but it had already slipped me.

"You're assuming I remember your name," Arjun says. He opens the door and lets me out of the room first. He looks me up and down and purses his lips. "You're ... February, right?"