Page 24 of The Retreat

As they walked back to the room, it was quiet. Heavily so.

Of course, that was often the case with Talia. But there was a different quality to this tension.

Imogen thought about trying a joke to break it up. She could make a crack about Rhona looking like she was about to set up a search party with a flare gun and a clipboard. Or about Celeste’s voice, how it always managed to make warmth sound like judgment.

But Talia’s shoulders were high and tight, and the shape of her silence wasn’t one Imogen wanted to press against.

Inside the room, it was no different. Talia took her coat off slowly, like she was trying to keep herself busy. And when she’d done that, she began to fold it very carefully, straightening out every crease.

Imogen sat down on the edge of her bed. She was still picking twigs from her jumper, trying not to think too hard about how strange things had gotten when Talia took that blindfold off.

‘I’m sorry if I overstepped, telling everyone it was my fault. You didn’t ask me to do that,’ she said quietly, eyes fixed on a stray leaf she rolled between her thumb and forefinger.

Talia’s voice was soft. ‘You didn’t overstep.’

Imogen looked up. Talia was watching her, arms still crossed like she was holding something in. There was colour high in her cheeks. She didn’t look angry. Just… what?

‘But—’ Talia pushed away from the door and took a step forward stiffly. ‘You didn’t have to do that. Coming in last place was on me. I would have taken my lumps.’

‘I know.’

Talia sat beside her. Not close enough to brush arms. But closer than expected.

‘You’ve helped me out today.’

‘That’s what I’m supposed to do, isn’t it?’ Imogen replied quietly.

‘Yes, but…’ Talia began and then seemed to lose her train of thought. Or maybe she just didn’t know what she wanted to say. Or maybe she did, but couldn’t bring herself to say it. Maybe she just didn’t know how to say something nice to Imogen.

The moment went quiet again. Imogen could feel Talia’s weight on the mattress, the way it shifted under them both. She wanted to reach out. Just place a hand over Talia’s and leave it there. The impulse was disturbing and obviously not one to act on, so she didn’t.

Instead, she said, ‘I didn’t want you to feel embarrassed in front of your colleagues for one little mistake.’

That made Talia turn her head. Her expression was unreadable.

Imogen’s mouth felt dry. She didn’t know what she was doing, just that her heart had been beating too fast since the moment Talia had put the blindfold on in the forest and said, with absolute reluctance, ‘I trust that you’ll get us back.’

And then suddenly, Talia reached up and touched her face. ‘You’ve got a thing,’ she said, brushing something from her cheek.

Imogen’s breath caught. It was the touch. Talia’s thumb was soft against her cheekbone. Slow. Precise.

It was gone as soon as it came, but Imogen felt it everywhere.

Talia’s eyes went wide as she pulled her hand back like she’d been electrified. ‘Oh. Sorry.’

Imogen shook her head. ‘No. It’s fine.’

She hoped she sounded normal. She didn’t feel normal. Her skin felt too tight. Her breath wasn’t coming evenly. Her eyes felt big.

Talia’s hand dropped to the mattress beside hers. Close enough that the sides of their little fingers almost kissed.

And neither of them moved.

Imogen felt a want, almost a need. The desire to reach across and just touch. To take Talia’s hand. To ask something with her body that she didn’t dare to say aloud.

But Talia was rigid beside her. There was no moment happening. How could there be? Imogen was just losing her marbles.

The quiet between them stretched, and Imogen didn’t dare look directly at her.

And then Talia said, too fast, ‘Let’s get ready for dinner.’

She was on her feet, walking toward the bathroom before Imogen could answer. Her hand missed the light switch the first time, then she found it, and blinked against the glare.

‘Talia—’ Imogen started.

Talia shut the door a bit too hard. Not a slam, exactly. But the effect was the same.

Imogen stared at the door for a long moment and then looked down at her hand. Still resting on the bed, fingers curled inward. Alone.