a hike?” She doesn’t look up. I grab the hand hanging at her side, her fingers moist from the beer bottle, but soft, too. She keeps her focus on the ground. “Thanks,” I say. “It means a lot that you care. Seriously. The hike might be tough. I’m not an idiot. That’s kind of why I want to do it. I’m ready for the challenge. I want the challenge. You just have to be okay with taking it slow. If I rush things, I’m bound to get hurt. So we’ll take our time, okay?”
I’m not sure if she can read the meaning between my words, how badly I want to rise to the challenge of being with her. I’m just not ready yet. Maybe if she gets to know me better, if I show her how awesome things could be with us, it won’t be so easy for her to turn away when she sees my scarred flesh.
She weaves her fingers between mine and runs her thumb over my skin. It’s such a simple gesture. Any other girl, on any other day, and I’d barely even notice. Maybe even be annoyed. But this girl, on this night, in this amazing country, and I’m falling to my knees.
She looks up at me with something I’d swear is adoration. “Okay. Let’s do this hike of yours.” She rises on her tiptoes and plants the softest, sweetest kiss on my cheek. “Thanks for tonight. Really. It was fun. I’m going to use the bathroom, then maybe we’ll head back. Get an early start tomorrow.”
She drops my hand and walks away, and I can’t catch my breath. I shut my eyes and inhale deeply, the scents of earth and fire heavy in the air, but it’s that hint of coconut from her hair and the cherry from her lips I want to capture. Is this how my dad felt when he fell for my mom? Desperate for the slightest scent or touch? The type of yearning that leads to love and forever.
I should hop in my car and get the hell away, but knowing it and doing it are two different beasts. Especially when she eases my heavy heart. I run my hand up the back of my neck, visions of my dad in his dark room all I see. But I’m not him. I survived my mom’s death and helped take care of him and my sister. I’m stronger than he is. I can open up, be with Nina, and say good-bye at the end of this trip. I glance down at my jeans. If she can get past my legs, that is.
Ten
Nina
After the hour-long drive this morning, Sam and I dump our stuff in the dorms, tour the town to get our bearings, and buy the food and clothes we need for our hike. Then it’s dinner at a pub, which turns into drinks, which turns into live music, and now I’m sitting bleary-eyed on my bunk as I try to process what happened this afternoon.
What’s about to happen tomorrow.
We stopped in a tourist center earlier to buy the passes that allow us to stay in the hut along our two-day “tramp,” as the Kiwis call it. Sam’s had fun using that word in all sorts of sentences today. He keeps stopping to say things like, “Are you sure your folks are cool that you’ll be ‘tramping’ with me?” and, “I could give you ‘tramping’ lessons before we head out.” If I roll my eyes one more time, they might get stuck that way. But I keep laughing, so he keeps doing it. Frickin’ Hot Guy.
We were at the tourist office earlier trying to book our passes, but all the bunks were full. Sam glanced at me, rubbed his chin like he does, then he swung back to the guy at the counter to ask if they rented tents. I didn’t clue in at first, didn’t think twice about the question or the implication. It wasn’t until I was two steps out the door, a tent bag tucked under Sam’s arm, that the reality of what was going to happen sank in. For one night, I’d be sleeping in a tent with One-syllable Sam. A game of freeze tag ensued with him staring at me like I was a moron while horns honked and people shouted until he dragged me to the other side.
For the life of me, I don’t know how I let this happen.
I tuck my legs underneath me on