"Thomas, wait!" Nadia cried, chasing Thomas up the hill, her leg muscles screaming and her stomach still full from lunch.

He stopped, turned and grinned down with jaundiced teeth.

She halted, and her head reeled. The world teeter-tottered a moment, then jolted still. Bile and nausea bubbled in her guts — she wanted to be sick. And her bloody legs felt like they were made of some gelatinous substance. Bending over, she placed her hands on her thighs and wheezed. It was the frickin' seed-spores. Fucking asthma. Allergies, altitude and inhalers were a deadly mix.

Distracted by the sound of clacking stones, Nadia glanced to her right. The slope wasn't quite a cliff, but close enough to it, and if she fell, she'd roll — hard. The bushes and grass were full of prickles, nettles and rocks, and other places were even less forgiving. A shudder rippled through her.

She squeezed her eyes shut, opened them again, and peered up at Thomas. His broad shoulders moved up and down as he breathed heavily. The pullover he wore hung perfectly on his slim frame, accentuating the definition of his chest and the way his torso pointed down to — Don't go there, Nadia. She shook her head and stuck out her hand, palm up.

"More?" A chuckle trickled from his mouth as he pulled another pre-rapped parcel out of his pocket.

She took the package, chomped down and pressed on past him, for the umpteenth time regretting her decision not to purchase one of the hand-carved walking sticks.

As the subtle buzz of the coca leaves set in, a canopy of mist reached out with wispy tendrils and pulled her upwards. The tramp of Thomas's footfalls dulled to a muted echo behind her. He didn't overtake this time, but his presence fuelled her resolve to move on.

She inhaled. One, and two, and three and four. Exhaled. Five, and six, and seven and eight.

The world narrowed to the thump of feet, clattering of stones and rasps of air until the misty haze parted to reveal a red obelisk-shaped marker sprouting from a rise of compacted earth. They had done it. Reached the peak of Dead Woman's Pass. But their destination, with its view impeded by cloud, was an anticlimax.

Nadia untangled herself from her daypack and plopped on to a shelf cut into the soil.

Thomas did likewise, lounging on his elbows. "We beat them all," he said in a self-satisfied voice.

A grin erupted on her face. "Yup, we kicked arse."

"Hmm, I like your arse."

She stared at him. How much more had he chewed?

He gazed up at her through marbled eyes, his mouth pulled up on one side. Against her will, she smiled back, still giddy and smug in the satisfaction she had got to the summit first — with him.

"Do you know what would make this even better? he asked, blue eyes crinkling.

Yes, if you kissed me. "Umm ..." — Don't say something stupid, Nadia — "some rum?"

He laughed and spoke, his voice husky, "No — this." He pulled her on to him, claiming her mouth.

Her body shook as he held her close. She speared her hands through his hair. The skin of his scalp scraped against her fingertips, leaving the hint of an oily residue that caught in her nails. A memory of bergamot shampoo and spicy cologne wafted about them, rising with the heat of their bodies. When he rolled her on to her back, she sunk into the ground, ready to welcome him.

His mouth abruptly pulled away, leaving her cold and empty. She blinked, watching Thomas rummage in his pack.

"But as it happens," he said, "I have that too. Blast. It's somewhere here ... Hah! Got it."

Nadia propped up on one arm and inspected the large brown bottle. "Where'd that come from?"

"I paid a tip."

"Of course you did."

The seal made a snapping sound as he ripped it open. Thomas pocketed the trash and twisted the lid free.

"Ladies first." With the bottle rested across his arm, he resembled a waiter offering Champagne, and her heart melted.

Screw Champagne. She had rum. Here — with him. She licked chapped lips and gave up on speech. The fumes tickled her nose as she sniffed. She pulled it away a moment, then took a long swig, scrunching her eyes.

Thomas regarded her expectantly. Dark-blonde hair moved in the breeze, fluttering across his forehead. Her fingers itched to touch it, and her heart quickened further.

Thomas coughed.

Talk, you moron. "Mmm ... yum."

"I'm glad you think so." He took the bottle, letting his fingers brush against her hand. His eyes remained on her as he drank, then bulged, and he started to splutter. "Bollocks!"

She thumped his back and laughed.

"Er ... would you like more?"

"Sure."

They sat a while, sipping, gazing into the clouds and growing tipsy, until Thomas screwed on the lid, cleared his throat, and cupping a hand around her face, kissed her again. This time he tasted of rum and mountain air. A hand landed on her waist, snaked up and thumbed against her breast. The hairs on the back of Nadia's neck lifted. A second later, a voice rang out.

"Guys, I thought I told you to get a flipping room!"

"Oh, fuck off Rob," she shrieked, scrambling away from Thomas.

Trent followed his friend, gasping for breath, hair sweaty and plastered flat from his beanie.

"Afternoon, gentlemen," said Thomas, his voice amicable and polite, but with a slight clip at the end of each word. He sloshed the liquor.

"Dude!" Trent sprang forward, hand outstretched.

"Ah-ah". Thomas waggled a finger at him, a smile in his voice. "Not until you promise not to embarrass the lady any further. An apology wouldn't go astray either."

A moment later, both men knelt before her, hands gripped tight. "Nadia! Disculpe! Por favor!"

She snorted. "Oh, get up, and stop acting like a bunch of wankers and come have a —"

"Amigos!"

Everyone turned. Nadia groaned.

"Umm, yo, KhaiPod," said Trent, scratching his head.

Khai slapped him on the back. "You know it."

An eye-roll was exchanged between the two other Aussies. Khai didn't notice, his eyes centred on the bottle "Is that ron?"

Trent bent to take the bottle from Thomas before speaking. "You mean rum? Yeah, Thomas brought it up." He took a sip and let out an, "Ahhh!"

"Tommo, buddy! Nice work, making it to the top before me!"

Strange, thought Nadia. She used to find this behaviour endearing. Now, she wanted to vomit in her mouth.

"Well, actually, Nadia made it before me."

Ignoring the statement, Khai grabbed the drink from Trent and sat next to Thomas, raising his right knee, so it almost touched his chin and let his left leg dangle over the edge.

"You're a champ, you know. She likes to get her way." Khai paused to drink. "Me and her, we go way back. But ..." he sighed, then continued in an audible undertone. "Sometimes things don't work out how you expect them too. Still, I care for her — even after what she did to me." He swivelled around to face her, and Nadia caught a faint flicker in his eyes. "You know, I hold nothing against you, Tommo. I get it. But, mate, no joke, I am so stoked she has you to keep an eye out for her." He leaned in and said in a whisper loud enough for everyone to hear, "Just watch out for her, hey."

As Khai drank, Nadia dropped down from the shelf and stalked forward. The fucking arsehole. She was going to kill him. Re-christen this place, 'Dead Khai Pass'. The pop of skin as her nails dug into her palm, distracted her. She hissed and sucked the blood away, imagining it was from the aftermath of her fist smashing his face.

Thomas spoke, "Where is Savannah? She was poorly at lunch, and I gave her some coca to chew. Perhaps you could take some more down? The rum too — seeing as you seem so intent on finishing it."

Yes, she thought, and go fall off the ruddy edge while you're at it.

Thomas swept a warning look at Nadia. She froze.

"You're a legend, Tommo!" Khai skulled again. "But Savannah is a trooper." He took another mouthful, and handed the bottle back to Thomas — who passed it back to the others — and continued on. "She insisted I forge ahead, make the most of the photo opportunity. Miguel said he'd keep a lookout on her for me. Finally, a woman who gets me." An elbow poked Thomas in the eye as Khai clasped his hands behind his head. "Pity about the fog, though. This view isn't quite up to scratch for a KhaiPod post. Oh well, lucky we have our ron."

That night, Nadia was alone in their tent, swiping through the pictures on her phone, when an unexpected series of pings sounded. Weird, there shouldn't be any reception here. She tapped on the green text box, and read the first message:

WTF Nadia! Khai's telling everyone you left him to run off with some Pom. He's been crying 'Poor me' all over Messenger, and your parents are shitting themselves. Skype me! — Lis xoxo

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Disculpe! Por favor! — Sorry! Please!

Ron — Rum