“So, as you haven’t been doing any of those things for the twenty minutes, it makes me wonder what you’ve been thinking about over there.”
Busted.
Well, okay, he brought it up.
“I was thinking about you. I was thinking about us. Is there an ‘us’?”
His smile dropped away, but he reached across to hold my hand.
“You’re my best friend.”
His answer was painful. But it was also evasive.
“I know. You told me that, but is that all? Because you’ve kissed me three times now and those definitely weren’t ‘best friend’ kisses.”
He clenched his teeth together and I could see a muscle tick in his jaw.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”
“Don’t!” I snapped. “Don’t tell me you’re sorry for kissing me. It hurts me, Cody.”
He flinched, and I watched as he gripped the steering wheel more tightly, his knuckles whitening against his tan.
“God, I’m sorry, Ava. You’re the last person I’d want to hurt. Ever.”
I could hear the sincerity in his voice, but it wasn’t enough. I wanted to know where I stood, once and for all.
“When we first met, you tried to ask me out on a date. Do you still want to date me, Cody?”
His reply was forced out between gritted teeth.
“I want to, but I can’t.”
“Stop playing games with me!” I yelled.
He pounded the steering wheel in frustration and yanked it so hard that we skidded off the road and were bouncing along rough ground.
I was a little scared. I’d seen so many different sides to him: happy, sad, serious, playful—but angry Cody was something else.
His eyes flashed and his nostrils flared. He stared straight ahead, fists clenched.
I unclipped my seatbelt hurriedly and held onto the door handle, ready to bolt—even though we were at the side of the road in the middle of pretty much nowhere.
His head turned slowly and he looked at me. His gaze softened and remorse settled across his expressive face.
“Ava…” He cleared his throat and tried again. “Ava, I want nothing more on this whole earth than to be with you, to tell everyone that I’m yours and you’re mine. Hell, I would have tattooed your name across my heart that first day I met you, but I’m … going away soon. And it’s not fair for me to start anything.”
“Why is it just your decision? Don’t I get any say in this? People go away to school all the time and they stay in touch. I know airplane tickets are expensive and we wouldn’t see each other that often, but we could email and write, maybe video chat.”
I grew increasingly desperate as he shook his head at each suggestion.
“Wherever you’re going, I’ll wait for you.”
“No!” he shouted. “I don’t want you to wait for me! I don’t want you to spend your life waiting!”
“You are such a hypocrite!” I yelled, glaring at him, anger boiling out of me. “You want to date me, then you don’t. You want to kiss me, then you don’t. What are you waiting for?”
For a millisecond, he froze in shock, but then we were both moving and our bodies collided together. His arms were around me, crushing my ribs, his teeth scraping across my lips. Then his tongue was in my mouth, hot and hard and demanding, and my hands were under his t-shirt, gouging long lines down his spine. He hissed, and his back arched, giving me space to run my lips and tongue over his chest, teasing and biting his small, masculine nipples.
I felt his hands slide down to my waist, gripping tightly. Then his left hand crept upward, stroking the skin across my ribs, his thumb brushing the underside of my breast. A long, low growl vibrated in his throat as I bit a little harder than I intended, and his fingers caught over the front of my bra.
My hands dropped to his jeans, and I was tugging at the buckle of his belt, feeling the heat pulsing along his thick shaft, when a horn shrieked loudly in our ears, and the truck shook as a sixteen-wheeler barreled past.
I fell back into my seat, embarrassed that I’d been about to mount him in full public view.
“Shit!” Cody rubbed his hands over his face, and dropped his head back.
“Yeah,” I said, putting my four years’ of college vocabulary to good use.
He gave a dry, humorless chuckle. “I can never catch a fuckin’ break.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” I joked. “I think your luck could be changing.”
He didn’t laugh and the bleak look he gave, curled me up inside.
“I guess we’d better get on the road,” he sighed.
I nodded stiffly, and he waited until I’d clipped my seatbelt back into position before bumping back onto the highway.
He didn’t speak; instead he reached over to grip my hand.
His fingers were warm and rough and loving around mine, so why did I feel like crying?
“I’m sorry,” he whispered.
“I’m tired of you being sorry,” I said, pulling my hand free from his.
We drove in silence, but as the final miles passed, the beauty of the world beyond the window pulled me from my angry, frustrated thoughts.
The red earth and blue sky stretched in seemingly endless vibrancy toward the horizon, thick dust coating the road, and flying up in plumes behind our tires. Spires of ancient rock formations grew from the ground, pointing toward the sun that was sinking in the west. Long fingers of shadows crept toward us, and a feeling of peace settled inside me.
I took a deep breath and looked across to Cody. His broad hands were still gripping the steering wheel for dear life, but it was the unshed tears glistening in his eyes that made my heart clench.
And I was struck with a profound truth: it wasn’t his own heart that he was trying to protect, it was mine.
I reached over to touch his arm. His eyes flickered to my hand before focusing on the road again. But now a small smiled softened the hard lines of his clenched jaw.
“It’s going to be a great weekend,” I said, quietly. “Thank you for bringing me.”
He nodded and swallowed several times, but he didn’t speak. I didn’t think he could, so I just rested my hand on his thigh and let him drive in silence.
We arrived at the campsite fifty minutes later, hungry and tired, but without the ragged frustration that had dogged us.
As I opened the door, leaving the air-conditioned cab behind, the heat was almost a living, fire-breathing entity, pounding the ground, and burning the air so it smelled like dry parchment.
Cody took my hand as he lifted me from the truck, and we held each other loosely. I decided to live in the moment and enjoy the simple pleasure of being held, nuzzling against Cody’s firm chest, his arms around me. He dropped soft kisses into my hair, and this time I felt loved and wanted, rather than pushed away and rejected.
I stood on tiptoe to kiss him lightly on the lips and he smiled his beautiful smile.
“Guess we’d better find out where we’re sleeping tonight, pretty girl.”
“As long as it’s with you, I don’t care,” I replied, boldly.
A faint blush highlighted the sharpness of cheekbones, and he ducked his head.
Chuckling quietly, I squeezed his waist.
“I didn’t mean that,” I said, although maybe I did.
The campsite had a small shop selling Native American artifacts. I looked longingly at the pretty woven mats in a range of broad geometric patterns and earthy tones. But they were beyond my meager budget, so I settled for a pair of dreamcatchers decorated with the image of a wolf, buying one each for me and Cody. It said the wolf was a symbol of protection—I liked that.
When I looked up to find him, he was laughing with the sales assistant as he tried on a range of different Stetsons.
She was definitely flirting with him although I couldn’t blame her—he did look awfully fine in his navy t-shirt and washed-out blue jeans.
“Hey, Ava! You should get one of these!” he gri
nned, donning a wide, black Stetson. “You’d look awesome!”
The sales assistant had the grace to withhold the scowl she clearly wanted to unleash, and politely handed me a hat to try on.
“Oh, thanks, but I can’t afford one,” I said, quickly.
“Sure you can. My treat.”
“No, Cody. You’ve paid for everything else; I’m not letting you buy this, too.”
“Please,” he begged, his eyes urging me not to fight him. “I’ve never bought a gift for a girl before. Let me do this for you.”
How could I argue with that?
I tried to pick one of the cheaper, straw hats, but of course Cody wouldn’t hear of it. I ended up with a very pretty dove gray Stetson that I instantly adored. Cody looked pleased with himself, too, and it was worth giving in, just to see that look on his face.
We stocked up with bottles of water and some cereal bars. I really wanted candy, but I knew it would be liquid within minutes. Although the temperature was dropping the closer we got to sunset, it was still in the high nineties.
By the time we came outside to meet our guide, three other couples were also waiting. I was a little disappointed that we’d be with other people as it meant the chances of sleeping with Cody instead of just sleeping, were remote.
Well, I could wait. Not for much longer, though.
We introduced ourselves and the others seemed friendly, although more my dad’s age than ours. I felt a pulse of annoyance as I remembered how my father had spoken to me. But I recognized that it was also my own fault for letting him treat me as a little girl for so long. My fingers automatically reached for Cody’s hand, and he grinned down at me putting his arm around my shoulders before deciding it was too warm for that, instead settling for playing with my hair.
From behind a curve in the rust red road, two jeeps bumped and jolted toward us, skidding to a stop in an impressive cloud of dust. The man who was clearly going to be our tour guide jumped out. His face was the color and texture of an old saddle, but his black eyes sparkled with amusement as we coughed and spluttered.
“Howdy, folks. I’m Joe and I’ll be taking y’all out to Big Hogan for sunset. We’ll pick up the horses in the morning. Load up your stuff; we’ll be heading out in just a minute.”
Cody took charge of the sleeping bags and our two backpacks, while I carried the water and goodies that we’d bought.
Then, proudly wearing our new Stetsons, we settled into the back seat of one of the jeeps.
We zoomed off in another dust cloud, bouncing uncomfortably on the hard seats. I gripped hold of Cody and he grinned back at me, joy flashing in his blue eyes.
The jeep rattled across the valley floor, traveling further and further into the past. I peered over my shoulder and was shocked to see a giant red cloud following behind us.
“Sandstorm,” shouted Joe, his voice hoarse over the noise of the engine. “But we’ll miss it, so don’t worry.”
Cody tucked his arm around me protectively and I tried to ignore the sudden large drops of rain that spattered the jeep’s windows as the temperature dropped rapidly. I shivered and Cody pulled me more tightly against him, as if his body alone could protect me from the whole world. Maybe he could.
The edge of the storm touched us briefly, before speeding off into the growing darkness of the east. After a few more minutes, Joe mashed the brakes and we screeched to a halt against the wall of one of the towering monuments that the valley was named for. As we climbed out of the jeeps, the air seemed suddenly still.
Joe began to speak, his gravelly voice carrying clearly, heavy with the weight of his words.
“My people, the Navajo, call this land Tsebii’nidzisgai; it means ‘the valley within the rocks’. It is sacred to us and we lived here many hundred years, and before us, the lost tribe of the Anasazi. We do not know why they left. The old ones say they were summoned to the spirit world. Whatever you believe, you can feel the bones of the world beneath your feet, and the spirits above you in the wide sky. I feel their presence; you must make up your own minds.”
I could see Cody was captivated by the words, and even my normal cynicism was swept away in the vast landscape that made a mockery of the length of a human life.
As Joe led us forward on foot, my fingers scraped against the monument, taking in the ancient carvings of animals—buffalo and deer and horses. Always horses. The questions rolled in: who and when and why?
Cody and I broke away from the others, wandering as if hypnotized, until we scrambled through a gap in the rocks, and found ourselves standing inside an enormous cavern, a natural amphitheatre carved out of the sandstone. Slanted light pooled down from a hole at the top in the shape of a massive eye, lines radiating from it like eyelashes, but really stained by the action of wind and rain.
“We call this ‘the eye to the heavens’,” said Joe, smiling when he saw us jump at his sudden presence.
“It’s amazing,” Cody breathed, staring upward. “Sort of reassuring—like … I don’t know. Like everything has been seen, or is seen.”
Joe gazed at him appraisingly. “You are looking for answers.”
Cody was surprised by his words, but didn’t disagree. Something passed between them, and I watched, puzzled.
“You must meet Grandma Yatzi,” said Joe. “She is very old, very wise. The medicine is strong within her—she knows many things.”
Cody’s eyes brightened.
“Really? Wow! I tried to meet with a medicine man, but I couldn’t set anything up for this weekend. So, yeah! Definitely!”
Joe nodded, and drifted away as silently as he’d come.
“We’ll finish the list tomorrow,” I said, sadly.
Cody didn’t speak, but we hugged each other tightly. His soft lips met mine, and our kiss was just a whisper, a promise that the breeze tugged away.
The jeep’s horn sounded at the exact same time my stomach rumbled.
Cody laughed gently. “I can take a hint.”
But there was one more stop before supper. Joe drove up to a small platform with a red bluff behind us.
And there we saw the sunset.
My mouth dropped open as a blaze of red and orange burned the sky, setting the mesa alight in an astonishing display of nature or God or some deity more powerful, older, more mesmerizing than anything I had seen.
I think I gasped, and clutched Cody’s arm, our silence more meaningful than any words could have been. A deep stillness filled me as I watched the cycle of day to night, as the earth turned. And I was part of it; together we were part of it. My problems seemed small and ridiculous and I promised myself that this was where my life started again: this day, this moment, with this man at my side—if he’d have me.
Darkness bloomed across the sky, and a thousand million stars twinkled seductively. I thought of my mother. She would have liked Cody. I wished I could share this moment with her. Maybe I was.
Joe drove us back to the site near Big Hogan, the giant eye, and Cody and I watched lazily as the others fussed around pitching tents.
Our plan was much simpler: we’d sleep on the thick, soft sand at the base of the monument, and in the unlikely event of rain, or the slightly more likely event of another sandstorm, we’d sleep in the jeep. It would be a squeeze, but still preferable to a flimsy tent that blocked out the stars.
Cody hollowed out a space in the sand, so we’d be cocooned against the night, womb-like in Mother Earth’s belly. Or maybe it would just keep out the cool breeze.
A stray dog trotted over, its skinny frame at odds with its passive friendliness. The others were wary of it, muttering to themselves about the dangers of treating a dog bite all the way out here. Cody smiled when the stray slumped down at his feet, allowing him to stroke its dusty fur.
Joe and his helpers worked to get a good fire going, then called us all to supper—something he described as Native American tacos. It was a sort of deep fried flatbread the size of a dinner plate, and filled with a layer of beans in a spi
cy sauce, topped with diced tomato, lettuce, onion, shredded cheese, and a big wedge of steak on the side. I dug in hungrily but couldn’t help noticing that Cody fed most of his to his new best friend, who seemed to have a whole family of furry best friends keen to share the bounty.
Once we were full and sleepy with contentment, the entertainment started. Joe introduced some of the helpers who turned out to be efficient multitaskers, one playing a flute-like instrument, and another singing. Then the drums started, and the joy in Cody’s face was highlighted by the flickering flames, and completely contagious, as he pulled us all up to dance with him.
The primitive, passionate beat swirled around us, making me dizzy and light-headed with the noise and movement and happiness blooming inside.
Then Cody drew me into his arms and kissed me soundly, ignoring the whoops and hollers as his body curved around mine. When he stood up straight, he looked very pleased with himself. All I could see was his beautiful face, and the night unfolding overhead, filled with a million stars, shimmering like diamonds against the deep black sky.
“Perfect,” he murmured, his lips whispering against my overheated cheek.
We said goodnight to our fellow adventurers and headed for our sleeping bags.
“We could zip them together,” I offered, hesitantly. “For warmth.”
Cody raised an eyebrow. “For warmth?”
“Yes.”
He winked at me. “Sure, why not?”
We kicked off our boots and I hoped I’d remember to shake them out in the morning. We’d been warned that scorpions liked to crawl inside them. Ugh.
I shucked my jeans, but left everything else on, then ogled openly while Cody unbuckled his pants and allowed them to slide down his long legs.
Unfortunately, I wasn’t the only person able to enjoy the show. Even though we were a little way away, Joe had warned us to stay in sight of the campfire. He didn’t say why, but the hungry howl of a coyote ensured I didn’t ask any dumb questions.
I scooted into our joined sleeping bags, shivering in the cool night air. Cody slid down beside me, automatically wrapping his arms around my body so my head was pillowed against his firm chest.
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