Chapter 7 - Lyla

"What's the problem exactly?" I ask, arching a challenging brow despite the confusing flutter in my own stomach.

Why am I pressing this ridiculously handsome mountain man to share a bed with me? It's not like I have experience with intimate situations like that.

I've always been the one pushing guys away before things could progress too far, my blunt personality too much for most to handle long-term.

Russell shifts his weight, his jaw tightening.

"The problem is that I don't feel right about sleeping next to a woman. That's all."

I give a jerky nod, swallowing down the brief flare of disappointment. Of course, a rugged, muscular specimen like him wouldn't look twice at a curvy girl like me that way.

"I understand," I reply, aiming for a nonchalant tone. "It's fine, don't worry about it. I’ll sleep here, no worries."

Russell's gaze holds mine for one loaded beat before he breaks it with a curt nod: "Alright then. You go on and get some sleep. We’ll have a big day tomorrow."

"You too," I echo automatically, watching as he turns and retreats back towards the main living area.

Only once the bedroom door closes behind me do I allow myself to expel the lungful of pent-up breath I've been holding. Leaning back against the wood, I squeeze my eyes shut and shake my head slowly.

What the hell is wrong with me? This isn't like me at all—to be so transparently, well...thirsty about a guy I barely know, especially one who seems completely disinterested in anything beyond platonic hospitality.

With a frustrated groan, I stomp over to the saggy twin bed and flop down on my back, staring sightlessly up at the low ceiling. I need to get a grip on myself before I completely demolish whatever faint shot at friendship – or anything else - I might have here.

Next Day

A sharp rap on the bedroom door startles me awake. I blink blearily as bright sunlight filters in through the lone window, momentarily blinding me.

"You awake in there?" Russell's gruff voice carries through the thin wood.

"Ugh...yeah, I'm up," I call back, voice still thick with sleep as I sit upright. "Just give me a minute."

Stifling a yawn with the back of my hand, I quickly take stock of my disheveled appearance - shirt rumpled, hair a tangled mess.

I run my fingers through the wild curls in an attempt to tame them slightly before leaning down to blow a breath into my cupped palm and sniff, making a face at my stale morning breath.

Definitely not cute right now, but it'll have to do. Throwing off the thin covers, I slide out of the creaky bed and shuffle towards the door, tugging my shirt down self-consciously as I go.

Russell has his back turned towards me when I emerge, standing near the small kitchenette area and seemingly organizing some supplies into a backpack. At the sound of the door, he glances over his shoulder.

"It's about time," he grunts without any real heat. “I was starting to think I'd have to send a search party after you."

I shoot him a bleary-eyed look.

"Well, good morning to you too, sunshine."

Rather than rising to my sarcastic jab, Russell just shakes his head and turns back to the task at hand.

"Go on and grab some breakfast while you can. We'll be heading out soon."

I shuffle over to the kitchenette, scanning its meager contents before grabbing an apple and a banana. It's not exactly the most nutritious breakfast, but it'll have to do since Russell doesn't seem to keep any cereal or yogurt stocked.

As I take a bite of the slightly bruised apple, I allow my gaze to drift over to where he's busying himself, prepping our gear. The early morning sunlight streaming through the cabin's windows casts his rugged features in a warm glow, making the scruff lining his jaw appear almost golden.

Quickly, I tear my eyes away before he can catch me ogling.

Get it together, Lyla. Last night, the man made it abundantly clear that he's not interested in that way.

"So," I say once I've swallowed my mouthful of fruit, "what's on the agenda for this wilderness boot camp of yours?"

Russell glances up, lips pressed into a flat line.

"We'll start easy - gathering water, identifying edible plants versus toxic ones, that kind of thing. Basics any idiot wandering through the woods should know."

I bristle slightly at his dig about being an 'idiot' but decide to let it slide for now. Picking another fight probably won't make for the most productive learning environment.

"Don't worry, I'm a fast learner," I assure him confidently. "I'll have you whipped into something resembling civilized company in no time."

The withering look he shoots me could crisp leaves to ash.

"You're awfully sure of yourself for someone who got themselves lost around out here yesterday."

My cheeks warm, but I refuse to be cowed so easily, "Then I guess it's a good thing I've got my very own gruff mentor to show me the ropes, huh?"

Russell doesn't dignify my cheeky remark with a verbal response, simply shaking his head curtly as he slings the now-loaded backpack over one broad shoulder.

"You about done fueling up over there?" he asks gruffly, nodding at the half-eaten fruit in my hands.

I quickly bite off the remaining bites of the apple.

"Yep, all set whenever you are, survivalist sensei."

Rather than taking the bait and engaging in further back-and-forth banter, Russell merely jerks his chin towards the cabin's exit.

"Then let's get a move on. We've got a lot of ground to cover today."

Falling into step behind him, I can't help but feel a slight prickle of intrigue at what exactly his planned itinerary entails. Part of me still can't quite believe I'm willingly putting myself through some kind of wilderness boot camp alongside this surly mountain dweller I met under the strangest of circumstances.

We head out into the dense forest surrounding Russell's isolated cabin. After trekking for what feels like miles, he finally stops us in a small clearing.

"Alright, first lesson," he announces, shrugging off the backpack and letting it thump to the ground. "Finding and purifying water."

I glance around the seemingly ordinary patch of woods.

"There's water out here?"

Instead of answering directly, Russell fixes me with an expectant look.

"Well, put those observation skills to the test. What do you see that might indicate a water source nearby?"

Biting my lip, I slowly turn in a circle, carefully surveying our surroundings with a critical eye. At first, nothing jumps out as particularly noteworthy. But then, I notice a distinct decline in the landscape about fifty yards to the northwest, coupled with a small cluster of cattails poking up amongst the underbrush.

"That way?" I point towards the potential wetland area. "It looks like there might be a stream or something over that ridge."

Russell gives a curt nod of approval. "Not bad. Let's go take a look."

Sure enough, when we crest the slope, the dip in the terrain reveals a narrow creek lazily winding its way through the forest floor. Russell immediately gets to work, pulling a battered metal container from his pack and scooping up some of the sluggishly moving water.

"This is where it gets tricky," he says, waving me over to crouch beside him. “You can't just drink this straight out of the creek—there are too many contaminants and bacteria. You've got to know how to properly purify it first."

Over the next half hour, he walks me through the steps—using a portable filter, adding purification tablets, and even demonstrating how to boil water over an open campfire if need be.

The entire process is so intricate and involved that despite his clear, patient instruction, I can't help feeling a bit overwhelmed.

"Think you've got the gist of it?" Russell asks once we've run through all the methods a few times over.

I hesitate before giving a tentative nod, "Yeah...I think so. No guarantees my body will agree if I have to put those skills into practice, though."

Rather than criticize, the faintest of smirks tugs at the corner of Russell's whiskered mouth.

"It's just a matter of repetition," Russell says. "Do it enough times, and it'll become second nature."

I make a face. "I don't know how you don't get bored out of your mind doing the same tasks over and over like that."

"The military taught me a thing or two about monotonous routines."

A smile tugs at my lips as I catch the brief slip.

"So, you really were in the military, huh?"

Russell's expression shutters closed again instantly, "Enough about that," he says gruffly. "We need to move on to the next lesson."

He rises to his feet, already turning away to gather his supplies.

"I shouldn't have mentioned it," he says.

Scrambling upright to follow, I resist the urge to push the subject further. For now.

"And what's on the docket next, oh wise wilderness guru?" I ask instead, keeping my tone light and casual.

Russell shoots me a look over his shoulder, one eyebrow quirked.

"You're just full of snark today, aren't you?"

"Hey, I have to keep myself entertained somehow," I counter with a grin. "This survivalist crash course of yours isn't exactly a riveting thrill ride."

His lips twitch, the barest hint of a smirk.

"Just wait till we get to the good stuff. Trust me, you won't be bored for long."