Page 12 of In Doubt

My gaze flicks to her now as the group listens to one of the head archeologists explain what has been discovered so far and how the site is operating. She stands right at the front, her eager face tilted upwards, soaking in every detail in obvious delight. Her body hums with enthusiasm and she rocks back and forth on her toes like she always does when she’s excited.

I rub my hand along my jaw, wondering how the hell I know that.

Because you spend far too much of your time watching her, you creep.

When the man finishes his lecture and Giorgie leads a round of appreciative applause, then Professor Weaver motions for us to collect our equipment from the nearby tent and get to work.

I shove my hands into my pockets and reluctantly follow the crowd. Not that I’m uneager to start – I can’t wait to plunge my hands into the dirt, to feel the sand shift through my fingers, to unearth whatever lies hidden beneath. This is what I’ve always dreamed of. Maybe I spent too much time as a kid watching movies like Indiana Jones and The Mummy. But I’d fallen in love with the adventure and mystery of archeology. Now after years of hard work, I’m finally here. Ready to begin my own. I want nothing more than to start – I’m just not keen to spend any more time in the vicinity of that scent than I have to.

Standing in the warmth of the sunlight, I continue to watch the men work, noting the way one man brushes away grains of sand from the structure as if he were caring for a newborn.

“Are you going to grab your stuff?”

I jolt and immediately that scent floods my nostrils.

How does that omega manage to sneak up on me as often as she does?

I shake my head, surprised to find she is actually smiling at me in giddy delight. For a fraction of a second it knocks me for six and I stare at her. Then I remember it’s all an act. Her continued, fake chirpiness is bloody grating.

“Uh, yeah.” I duck inside the tent, give my name and am handed a bag with a trowel, several brushes, a map and a clipboard as well as a reminder of the instructions. Then I stroll back out to meet her. It’s clear she is forcing herself to wait, eager to sprint away and get started.

“I think it’s this way,” she points and I follow her through the maze of trenches where several of our course mates are already busy examining their plots. She waves to her friends as we pass.

“Good luck,” the one with long black hair calls. And we follow a path further around to the west and into the shadow of the exposed parts of the temple.

We’re to one side, a little separated from the other trench sites, but at least it will be cooler here. I don’t want the omega overheating.

My foot hangs in mid air as I halt.

Why the hell am I worrying about this woman’s welfare? A woman who deliberately drives me around the bend.

“OK?” she asks, noticing I’ve stopped and stopping too.

I nod and bend down to pretend to tie my shoe lace.

She’s grinning at me when I stand up straight.

“What?” I snap suspiciously.

“Nice outfit, Indie. You decided to ditch the flip flops, then?”

“Of course. I just didn’t want to look like a film extra on the flight. Not like some people.”

She tips her hat at me and continues on her march to our trench.

Number 69.

We both stare down at the number in silence.

I wonder if that was some kind of perverse joke by the professor.

Then dismiss the idea.

The trench here is much further advanced than our peer’s sites and I can see immediately the chances of us finding something are much greater than theirs. It’s almost enough to forget the fact I’ve been partnered with Rainbow shine for the next five days.

Almost.

“I think we should start at opposite ends,” she says as I jump down into the belly of the trench. “Then we won’t …” she screws up her nose, “get in each other’s way.”