Approaching the tent, I pause outside it. "Katya?"
No answer.
I know she's up. I push aside the tent opening and find the tent empty.
"Goddamn it, Katya." With a sigh, I pull out my phone and text her. Pressing send, there's a pause before I hear a chime behind me.
I turn to see her coming from the direction of the bathrooms, bag in hand. For a moment, I'm caught by her gorgeous eyes and perfect features. She's dressed in snug pants and a long sleeved polo. The bruise on her cheek is yellowish, and guilt trickles through me.
She glances from the phone to me with annoyance. "Right here," she answers.
"Are you ever going to try to be a team player?" I ask.
"Oh, you're going there?" Katya arches an eyebrow and stops before me. "Who sent a nine year old in to dump spiders on my head?"
I smile. I shouldn't. It's too damn funny not to. "I tried to wake you up three times. He had better luck."
The familiar tension is between us again. This time, I have a better idea of what I'm missing, of how incredible her body is beneath the clothes and how natural it felt against mine. I understand what this tension is, even if I don't like it one bit.
As if thinking similar thoughts, her cheeks turn pink.
For the first time since I've met her, Katya backs down. She moves around me and flings open the entrance to the tent.
"You missed dinner last night," I say. "Are you coming to breakfast?"
"I'm fine."
I go from being aroused around her to wanting to kill her in a flash. I'm not sure how she does that to me. But her welfare, whether or not either of us likes it, is my concern for this week. It's how teams work, even if she never figures that out on her own.
"It's going to be a long day. You need to eat something." I somehow manage to keep my tone level.
"I don't want to go in there!" she snaps.
Interesting choice of words. I frown. She didn't say anything about me and I know the kids aren't a deterrent. This conversation is reminding me of when she asked me to teach her to punch someone. She's hiding something. I can't even guess as to what.
"Should I bring you something?" I ask.
"No."
"You just can't …" I swallow the rest of my sentence. Bitching won't help anyone.
"What?" She re-emerges from the tent with a sweatshirt on.
"Nothing. I'll get the team ready."
Katya rolls her eyes and starts towards the kids' tent.