The worst thing that ever happened

The air in the small cabin was thick with unspoken accusations. Rain lashed against the windows, mirroring the storm brewing inside Zoid and Luke. The “angry sex,” as Zoid had wryly termed it, had been a release, yes, but it hadn't erased the gnawing frustration of being lost, of the simmering blame that had simmered beneath the surface for hours.

“I just don’t understand why you didn’t say anything,” Luke’s voice was tight, strained. He paced the cramped space, his usual easy grace replaced by a restless energy. “We were supposed to be following the map. *Your* map.”

Zoid, still damp and a little disheveled, hugged herself, the damp cotton of her see-through tee doing little to ward off a chill that had nothing to do with the weather. “And I don’t understand why you weren’t paying attention! You were too busy admiring the scenery, weren’t you? Too busy being perfect Luke, not noticing anything real.”