by Wood, Vivian
I bite my lower lip. “Do you think I’m pretty?” I blurt out.
His cheeks color faintly. He looks me in the eyes, swallowing. “Well… yes.”
I smile with my heart thundering. “Do you want to kiss me?”
He glances away, then looks back. Guilt is written all over his face. His eyes dart to my mouth, then down to where his hand still grips my knee. “Yes.”
I cock my head. “Then you should.”
I say it almost as a dare, not expecting him to agree.
There is a flash of negativity in his eyes. He drops his hand away from my knee. “I shouldn’t.”
Leaning closer to him, I feel like I’m a lion tamer and he’s an angry lion. “But you want to.”
“Maybe—” he starts.
I close the distance, kissing him on the lips. I’m almost startled by the contact, even though I was the one that initiated it. My eyes open wide.
He makes a soft sound. I’ve caught him by surprise, I can tell.
Grayson’s lips are warm, their feel is foreign to me. I press forward, eager to learn more of him. His breath is sweet. He pauses for a second, frozen. I feel so small next to him. If he is a lion, I am a mouse, trying to get close enough to remove a thorn.
Then his eyes slip closed and his hand comes up to land in my hair. He pulls me closer. I let my eyes close too.
Kissing Grayson feels primal, electric. Raw.
He deepens the kiss, encouraging me to open my mouth against his. I let my tongue slide against his, understanding just now what a thousand women before me have known.
Kissing is amazing.
Essential.
Life-changing.
How on earth didn’t I do this before?
When Grayson pulls back, breaking the kiss, my eyes snap open again. I stare at him in wide-eyed wonderment, my fingers coming up to touch my lips. He looks as though he is feeling the same thing, amazement echoing through his deep blue eyes.
“Is every kiss like that?” I wonder.
“No.” He slowly shakes his head. “Not every kiss. Not at all.”
I beam at him. “I guess that means we are lucky, then.”
He clears his throat, standing up. It’s only then that I appreciate just how much taller than me he is. “We should get you bandaged up.”
“We should kiss again.” I blush, because I know that women shouldn’t be so pushy or forward. I can’t help it, though.
Just like that, blunt and straightforward. Color creeps into his cheeks.
“I don’t know.”
Arching a brow, I reach out and grab his shirt, tugging him closer. “Don’t you want to?”
His gaze drops to my mouth again. I watch his Adam’s apple move as he swallows. “More than anything.”
“Then we have to.” I pull him down to my lips, feeling that electric connection once again, running through my veins and curling my toes.
Dark brown hair.
Deep blue eyes.
Tall as a tree and nearly as sturdy.
Here in this little one-room shop, I learn what the very beginning of love looks like.
Chapter Fourteen
Grayson
You can do this.
Rachel is just a girl.
You are strong.
Embarrassing as it is, I spend about ten whole minutes giving myself this pep talk. As I fold up my hammock in the early morning hours, I try to convince myself that everything is going to be okay.
I can make it through whatever this summer has to throw at me. It can’t be worse than the literal war zone I left behind.
That gives me a strange kind of comfort, knowing that I have already seen the most traumatic thing that I’ll ever see in my life. It’s bittersweet because I’m so fucked up from that memory but I will take anything I can get right now.
Thinking about facing down Rachel is putting me in a weird head space, so I try not to do it. I get everything together in my pack. There is something infinitely satisfying about the fact that everything I own can fit in this one gray canvas backpack.
Slinging it onto my back, I feel the comfortable and familiar weight compressing my spine.
This. This I can do.
I walk down to the main area of camp in front of the mess hall. To my surprise, Rachel is already there. She’s sitting on one of the picnic tables, her backpack on the ground, and she is reading a paperback book. She licks one of her fingers and then turns a page.
When I stride up to her, she looks up at me like I’m interrupting her reading. Closing her book with a sigh, she purses her lips.
“Are you ready?”
I roll my eyes at her. “I’m going to grab some breakfast. Then we can head out.”
Rachel arches a brow but says nothing. Opening her book again, she peers down at it. I head into the mess hall and grab three bananas and two oatmeal bars. That should hold me over until we get to the semi-permanent camping site at Snug Harbor.
It’s only a five hour hike. From there, we will be able to take a series of day hikes to a number of water sources. Plus Snug Harbor is reachable by car, which means that when we arrive there should be a refrigerated bundle of food for us to eat.
Not having to eat rehydrated camping meals for the first week sounds like a win to me. And we don't have to carry that much out to the camp which is sweet. After filling my canteen, I head back outside.
Rachel is still poised on the same picnic table, reading her book. She looks up at the sound of my approaching bootsteps.
“Have you peed?” I ask. “Do you have water? Sunblock? How about trail mix or something like that to keep your energy levels up?”
She rolls her eyes at me. “I just went while you were inside. I have water…” She holds up a clear plastic Nalgene bottle which is attached to her backpack with a carabiner. “I’m already wearing sunblock. And I have a whole bag of rainbow bridge mix in here.”
She pats an exterior pocket of her backpack. I nod.
“Okay. I had a little time to plan where we are going to camp. We’ll take it easy today and this whole week.”
Her body seems to bristle. “I hope that’s not on my account. I can hold my own, I assure you.”
A huff of laughter escapes me. “It’s for anybody that has been resting for more than three days.”
She levels a look at me. “Fine.”
I continue as if she wasn’t just rude to me. “We’re going northwest today. I expect it to take us around five hours to get to Snug Harbor, where we’ll be stationed for about a week. Maybe more.”
She stands, sticking her book in her backpack. “Fine.”
“You said that already.”
She pulls a deadpan expression. “Are we ready to go?”
“Hey, I’ve been waiting around for you to be ready for almost a week,” I point out with a shrug. Smirking, I can’t help but dig the thorn in her side a little more. “I’m always ready.”
She makes a little ohff of exasperation and then picks up her pack. I watch her shoulder it. She grimaces a bit and takes a few steps, struggling under the weight of her new burden.
I narrow my eyes at her. I’ll have to watch her closely and make sure that she didn’t overpack. She might be fine at first, but as the day goes on and she tires, she could really struggle with it. That is, assuming that she doesn’t have me here to take on some of it for her.
Clearing my throat uncomfortably, I start walking. If it were any other park, I would probably need a map and a compass. But here in Olympic National Park, I know my way around. At least in the top third of the park. When we get a little lower down, I may use the compass a lot more.
In the hazy light of morning, I head for the trail that we will take to Snug Harbor. It starts less than a mile outside of Whiskey Bend and it’s pretty smooth sailing once you hit it. It’s a pretty enough hike, following the Elwha River as it twists and turns, snaking a lazy trail south.
I keep looking back to check on Rachel. She shoots me an irrita
ted look every time she sees me watching her.
“I’m fine,” she says.
My mouth curves upward. She’s pretty damn stubborn, is what she is.
Looking up at the canopy of pine trees, I wait for my favorite moment. The trees grow smaller and eventually the canopy recedes. I bask in the sunlight, paltry though the early morning beams may be.
This right here, this is perfection.
The grade of the ground changes, shifting upward a bit. It makes the hike more challenging which I personally live for. Turning my head, I check on Rachel again. I can see a trickle of sweat appear at both of her temples after just a mile.
“I swear Grayson, if you don't stop giving me that look,” she mutters.
“What look?”
“Stop expecting me to fail.” She grimaces. “Nervous nursemaid is not a good look for you.”
I want to retort, but of course she’s right. I am expecting her to fail, on some level. I am waiting for that break, that lapse. It’s what I have come to expect from everyone around me, her especially.
I think that Rachel will get on the trail, get a taste of life out here, and find that it isn’t up to her standards. She won’t be able to work well or she will get too many blisters on her feet and she will just… be done with this part of her life.
I realize that I have been thinking of her as a tourist, staying for just long enough to wreck me. My cheeks warm a little, because she pinned that accusation to me rightly.
So I don't answer. I just look ahead and tell myself not to worry about her. It’s not the easiest thing to do. I’m a natural born leader, or at least I was back in the Navy. Everyone with me was one of my fellow soldiers and therefore essential to me, from the lowest camp cook to the highest of my commanding officers.
I let my thoughts pause there for a second before they start to grow heavy with memories. Shaking the thoughts off, I start hiking faster. It’s automatic. I need that little bit of an endorphin boost from exercise, to help me not to dwell on the past.
It’s a little daunting, having Rachel here with me. I might be in my element, but having her here watching me is very weird.
I just start to test my muscles. Let the massive pine trees dwarf me. Open my sinuses, breathe a little harder. With the sun finally starting to come out, I find my zen place.
No need for mantras here. Just pure, clean energy pulsing through my veins.
But I don't think about Rachel, who calls out to me at some point, bringing me back out of the fog. I look back and she is out of my line of eyesight. Stopping, I wait for her to catch up.
She soon makes an appearance, breathlessly heading for me at a gallop. When she arrives at my spot, panting and grabbing her Nalgene bottle, I feel guilty. She screws the lid off her water bottle and takes a few long pulls from it.
“Sorry,” I say, rubbing the back of my neck. I reach around my side and shift the stuff in my pack around without taking it off. “I kind of forgot that I wasn’t alone.”
Rachel just gives me a look. “I see. Well in case you need a reminder, my legs are like half as long as yours. I meant it when I said to not go too easy for my sake, but damn dude.”
“I’ll try not to go too fast.” I shrug. “If it helps at all, we are going to hit the river soon. It’ll give us something to walk alongside for more than half of the way.”
Her eyes light up. “So I can take my first sample?”
That gives me pause. “I guess so, yeah.”
I guess she really must like her job because a grin spreads across her face. “That’s great.”
“Are you ready to go?”
She nods. “Yep. Lead the way.”
I start hiking again, more slowly this time. The ground under my feet gradually grows thick with roots. Before I can even hear the water I start seeing its effects. Deciduous trees begin to populate the trail, verdant and green with growth. They are everywhere of course, but they always grow thicker and more lushly near water.
Then I hear it, the far away sound of a rushing stream. We must be near one of the parts where the Elwha narrows. Later on our hike, the river will grow in size and the water will be faster moving. Just as we are leaving the trail and heading west, there should be a decent sized waterfall.
“Is that the river?” Rachel pipes up.
“Yep.”
I watch my step more than before, as vines and roots are abundant now. We cut down for a little bit, in an attempt to be closer to the river. Underbrush blooms on both sides of the trail, growing so much that I’m almost a little limited in my movement if I don't want to kick bushes every few feet. And then all of a sudden we are there, shading our eyes as we step out of the trees.
Just a few feet before us is the river, the gravel-strewn banks ripe with moss. Rachel steps around me. Her wide-eyed wonderment is evident.
“It’s beautiful,” she murmurs. I watch as she takes off her backpack and grabs a little tube out of a small case that she is carrying.
Rachel steps close to the water and retrieves her sample. Then she waves a device like a cell phone around. It starts making a whirring noise, then emits a printed sticker. She pulls the sticker off and attaches it to the tube of water.
“What is that?” I ask, nodding to the device.
“It’s a geo-locator device. It prints off the location I took the sample at, the date and the time. All of that. Saves me a lot of work.” She puts the device and the tube back in the case, then puts the case in her backpack. She shoulders her pack and then looks at me expectantly. “I’m ready.”
I arch my eyebrows. “All right, then.”
Sighing, I lead the way back out to the path. One hour down, only thousands more to go. Sucking in a breath, I start hiking again.
Chapter Fifteen
Rachel
“Whoa.”
I just walked into the little cabin that Nate has his office in. It’s a tiny room filled with a desk, two chairs, and an absolute explosion of Civicore freebies. There are two different Civicore motivational calendars tacked up behind Nate’s head. On his desk are a collection of Civicore pens, paper weights, and stress balls. Nate even has a blue and white Civicore shirt on.
Whatever is happening, I don’t like it. There is a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach just from looking at all the free stuff that Civicore sent over.
“Rachel! There you are.” Nate jumps up from his desk, beaming. “You’ll never guess who is going to support the National Park Service by paying for you to be here this summer!”
That sinking feeling turns into a burning sensation.
“Civicore?” I guess.
“That’s right!” he crows. “It’s a little out of left field, but they apparently need a geohydrologist to take a bunch of samples of different water sources around the park. When I said that you were already here to sample our water sources—”
“Civicore is my family company,” I cut in.
The confusion on Nate’s face for a few moments is almost funny.
“Wait, what?” he says.
I cross my arms. “Yeah. My family holds the largest share of the company. I’m technically already on their board of directors.”
“And they… didn’t know you were here?” Nate asks.
“They knew. It’s a power play, to mess with my head. I came out here on my own and they didn’t like it, apparently.” I push out a breath. “I’m guessing they asked you to sign a contract?”
Nate looks like I just hit him with a shovel. “Well… yes. They did. I’m sorry, Rachel…”
I give him a little smile. “It’s not your fault. They are my flesh and blood. Let me deal with them.”
Nate straightens. “Whoa. Deal with them? They’re basically funding this entire camp all summer. I’m sorry, but we can’t afford to turn down that money.”
It’s not the first time I’ve heard that same excuse, coming from the mouth of someone in power. Since I was in elementary school, my parents have coaxed, bribed, and bulli
ed their way into every single activity I showed interest in. They paid for the activities that they approved of and found ways to get the funding pulled from anything they found unsuitable.
My father firmly believes that money makes the world go round. His hand in this is as obvious as it was when I was in grade school.
I grit my teeth. “Fine.”
All I can do is shake my head, bitterly disappointed. In Nate and the National Park Service for falling for something so obvious, yes. But also in my parents for sticking their noses in where they are not wanted. I feel a little humiliated, knowing that the program I am so excited about can just be bought and sold like it’s essentially worthless.
Which I’m sure is my father’s whole point.
Nate looks guilty. I just turn around and walk out of his office, my fists clenching and shaking.
Of course.
Of course my parents bribed the National Parks Service in order to gain more control over me.
Heading to my cabin, I dial my father as soon as I grab my cell phone. He answers after two rings. He has obviously been waiting for my call.
“Graham Black here.”
“Don’t even pretend like you weren’t expecting my call,” I fire off.
He sounds smug, which makes me hate him a little. “It’s nice to hear your voice too, Rachel. How is your little vacation?”
Ugh. He really knows just how to get me. “Why in the world did you feel the need to poke your nose into what I’m doing?”
He huffs a laugh. “Your mother and I have invested a lot in you, my dear. We are not just about to let our investment slip away for the summer.” I can hear him smiling. “You have so much potential, if only you would get out of your own way.”
“Do you hear yourself when you talk? You sound like a crazy person.”
He doesn’t take kindly to that. “Now I’ve heard about enough from you. You think that you can just flit off to Seattle for the summer and not tell your mother and I that you’re going? Well, as it turns out, we have a certain amount of sway in all matters that pertain to you. There is no running away from your life, Rachel. There is no escape.”