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Thomas has it all: nobility, money, the girl, and a position waiting for him at the family business. But when he thinks about the life ahead of him, he can't breathe. So he takes a gap year backpacking.
Nadia...
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Nadia half-woke to near darkness. She rolled to her side expecting to meet Khai's warm body and encountered damp nylon instead.
Her eyes flew open.
Everywhere hurt, from the top of her head to the tips of her toenails, in a muted, fuzzy kind of way. With the throbbing pain came disorientated memories: of rock and earth, terror and helplessness. Then hope and tenderness. Shadowy images of a body meeting hers with healing warmth. Pleasure, and lots of it. As her core heated, the soreness eased and she flushed.
Where was Khai? She reached out again for his body. For a moment her opiate fogged mind didn't comprehend the bouncy material beneath her fingers: an air mattress. She was in a tent ... the tent she shared with — Thomas.
Shit! She sat bolt upright, her breath coming in rapid, shallow breaths. They'd had sex — lots of sex. Oh, fuck!
More flashes from the night before hit her. The small space had hampered their mobility, but not their creativity. They'd tried to be quiet ...
Fucking hell, Nadia, an elephant walking through camp would've made less noise.
She flopped on to her back and let out a groan as a twinge pierced her abdomen. Had everyone heard them? All of a sudden, she couldn't breathe. She was going to be sick.
Nadia pushed herself off the bed in the direction of the exit. Her head rebounded off the fabric, and she bounced back. Suffocating, she fumbled for the elusive zip.
Sweet, fresh air filled her lungs as she crawled outside and sunk her fingers in the wet grass. She peered up through frosted breath. The Milky Way streaked across the sky in a ribbon of purple, navy and white. The black silhouettes of mountains hunched before it. To her left, a dark, jagged tree line; to her right, a soft, blue glow and the hum of the generator next to the toilet block.
Her breathing slowed. The remaining recollections from the day before slotted together in a cohesive picture. She had done nothing wrong.
Sadness replaced guilt. She wasn't angry about the fall, that had been unintentional — Khai had acted on impulse, like a cornered animal desperate to get away. In their own way, each of them had been to blame. What kind of dickheads decided to argue on the edge of a mountainside?
