Constellation

The camping trip was Sarah's idea.

"You've been cooped up in that apartment for months," she said, throwing a pillow at me where I lay on the couch, doom-scrolling through Instagram. "You need nature. Fresh air. Something that isn't your ex's social media."

"I'm not looking at her social media."

"Then why do you look like someone kicked your puppy?"

I sighed. "Fine. I was looking at her social media. She's dating someone new. They went to Paris."

"All the more reason to get out of here. Pack a bag. We leave Friday."

* * *

Sarah had been my best friend since college, ten years of late-night conversations, bad decisions, and an unshakeable bond that had survived cross-country moves and failed relationships. She was the kind of person who knew exactly what you needed before you did, and right now, apparently, what I needed was a tent and a campfire.

What I didn't know was that she'd invited someone else.

"Who's that?"

We were at the trailhead, loading gear, when another car pulled up beside us. A woman got out, tall, athletic, with sun-streaked brown hair and the kind of easy smile that made you want to smile back.

"That's Jordan. She's in my hiking group. I thought a third person would be useful in case one of us gets eaten by a bear."

"Sarah, "

"What? She's nice. You'll like her."

Jordan approached, and I got the distinct feeling I was being set up.

"You must be Mia. Sarah's told me a lot about you."

"All lies, probably."

"She said you make terrible coffee but give great book recommendations. That true?"

"Deeply true."

Jordan laughed, and something fluttered in my chest. Traitor heart.

* * *

The hike to our campsite was five miles, and by the end of it, I'd learned several things about Jordan: she was a veterinarian, she'd moved to the area six months ago, she was recently out of a long-term relationship herself, and she had the kind of laugh that made birds stop to listen.

Also, she was exactly my type, which was inconvenient because I'd sworn off women after the Paris debacle.

"So what do you do, Mia?"

"I'm a journalist. Freelance, mostly. Which is a fancy way of say

ing I work in my pajamas and survive on deadline-induced panic."

"That sounds both terrible and amazing."

"It's both. Definitely both."

Sarah had fallen behind, claiming her pack needed adjusting, but I could feel her watching us with the satisfaction of a successful matchmaker. I made a mental note to murder her later.

* * *

We set up camp in a clearing near a stream, surrounded by pines and the kind of silence you forget exists in the city. Three tents, a fire pit, and a sky already darkening toward evening.

"I'm going to gather firewood. You two get the tents up."

Sarah disappeared into the trees before I could object to being left alone with someone I was trying very hard not to be attracted to.

"Have you done this before?"

"Set up a tent? Once, in middle school. It didn't go well."

Jordan laughed and took the poles from my confused hands. "Here. I'll show you."

She stood behind me, reaching around to guide my hands, and I was suddenly very aware of her body close to mine, the warmth of her breath near my ear, the way her arms brushed against my sides.