Eruption (Yellowblown™ Book 1)

by Hughey, J.

  “Red Cross, the governor’s office, and Emergency Management in the part of Alaska he’s in. Did you know Alaska doesn’t have counties, they have boroughs? It took me a half hour to figure out what I was looking for. Mom contacted his airline, too, though they have no reason to know anything about him for another week. He’d changed his itinerary going out to have a day’s layover in San Fran, which she’d known nothing about.”

  I pointed to the headline about all the flight cancellations and the graphic with a big red circle showing the no-fly area that definitely included all of Nebraska. “How will he get home?”

  “I dunno. He might fly here, and I’ll drive him.”

  “That would suck,” I blurted, thinking only of myself. “I mean, it’s a lot of driving for you.”

  “Would you miss me?” he teased.

  “Maybe.” My coy smile gave away the truth. I unscrewed the lid to my soda bottle to take a drink. “I was surprised they had the game yesterday. I’ll bet you got wet.”

  “Not like the players.” He braced his arm behind me and set his chin on my shoulder. “It would’ve been more fun if you’d been there.”

  “Oh, yeah, Cramer would have loved that.”

  I knew what he wanted, though, and I wanted it too, so I angled my face toward his.

  The perfect kiss, with the grass and sun and sweetness of chocolate chip cookie on our lips, made me smile against his mouth.

  “Why do you always smile when we kiss?” he whispered, his breath warm on my cheek.

  Truth or dare. How much to admit? How much to hide? I’d decided, after the Parker disaster, I only wanted honest relationships, so I had to tell the truth, though the Nikki debacle tempered the truth rule to apply to my truths, not other’s. “Because it’s still a surprise I get to be with you,” I said as I twined my hand in his. Truth.

  He rubbed his thumb over mine. “You shouldn’t be surprised.”

  I shrugged, the Not Into You phase still too recent to forget.

  “You know what? I’ll bet I can really surprise you. It’s not a total coincidence we ran into each other today.”

  Another echo, another lesson from Parker sent a chill down my otherwise balmy spine.

  “I drove by in my truck once last year when you were stopped at the end of the farm lane. Since then, I’ve biked that road often, hoping to run into you. Today, I got lucky.”

  What had been beautiful serendipity now sounded mildly sinister. “You said you weren’t stalking me.”

  “I’m not stalking you. I hoped to run into you.”

  “If you wanted to go on a bike ride, why didn’t you ask me?”

  “Because it seems like something you like to do on your own most of the time. I hoped you might ask me.” He leaned forward to search my face. “Tell me why my trying to bump into you is a bad thing.”

  “Parker,” I said. I tried to extricate my hand but Boone held it firm.

  “Your ex.”

  I looked across the park at a guy playing Frisbee with his dog. “He knew my routine, we shared all the same friends. After we broke up, he used to show up at places he knew I’d be. It creeped me out until he finally…moved on.”

  “Does he still bother you? Has he ever shown up on campus?” he asked sharply.

  I pulled my hand away this time. “Don’t go all RA on me, Boone Ramer. I’m not one of your freshman charges.”

  “This isn’t me being an RA. If some guy is bothering you, I’m interested on a whole different level than an RA would be.”

  My stare cut into him. “Well, there’s this one boy who rides the route he knows I take on my bike until he happens to run into me. You gonna go all western on his ass?”

  A flush of red crept up his neck. “I guess I deserved that.”

  “Yeah, you did.”

  He took my hand back and I let him, my indignation already burned out. “Look,” he said, “you know I’m not a creep. I’m not an Eagle Scout and I’m not a serial killer. I’m a normal guy somewhere in between. Probably closer to Eagle Scout, admittedly.”

  “I know, Dudley.”

  “You’re going to wear that out, aren’t you?”

  I snickered.

  “Seriously, I told you I knew where you ride to prove you shouldn’t be surprised by my wanting to spend time with you. I kept my distance because I had to, but I’ve been hoping to hang out with you for a long time.”

  There was a fight I could pick about that statement, too, but I decided I needed to let some things slide instead of over-thinking.

  “And since you don’t like surprises, how about we plan another ride later this week?

  What’s your schedule like on Tuesday afternoons?” he asked.

  “Um, I have a one o'clock, then I’m done.”

  “We’ll make it work. There’s rail-trail northeast of here I thought we both might like. If we left at 2:30, we’d have a few hours of riding time.”

  I pulled a few more blades of grass out, but my grin gave away my enthusiasm for a planned afternoon with him. “Sounds great.”

  “I’ll come by your dorm with my truck.”

  The endorphin-and-Hotness high lasted through dinner with Mia. After a twenty-six mile ride, I pounded some calories, going back for seconds of the institutional mac and cheese. Nectar from the gods for a starving college student.

  Most NFL football games had been cancelled, partly out of respect for the tens of thousands of citizens from Wyoming, Idaho, and Montana who were presumed dead, and partly because national travel already presented challenges. Arch-rivals Baltimore and Pittsburgh decided to play, and the Case Study bulged at the walls with the crowd of students hungry for a distraction from volcano coverage. A few suicide risks wore Raven purple in a sea of Steelers black and gold.

  I noticed Twyla draped over the back of a couch, her lips near the ear of a jock wearing a Copperheads Football shirt with the sleeves cut off, his chest wide as a piece of poster board. His shoulder caught her chin when he leaped up to shout at the referee on the screen.

  Twyla swatted at his back. “He can’t hear you, Omar.” She couldn’t see him roll his eyes, but I could, and I almost felt sorry for her. She noticed me skirting the noisy crowd and didn’t try to hide a smirk when she didn’t see Boone nearby.

  “Meow,” I whispered to myself.

  Back at the dorm, I managed a few hours of half-hearted studying before wandering down the hall to the lounge to watch the news. The newscasters rarely altered from noisy, talk-on-top-of-each-other discussions, perfect parallels to the chaotic national situation. Tonight, though, they played a short clip of a comedian/social commentator who’d lost his usual time slot to the redundant coverage of the eruption.

  “Insurance companies are already crying over spilled lava. Flooded by hurricane claims in the south, they are now buried in losses from Yellowblown.”

  Yellowblown, I thought. Seems like the perfect description to me.

  A full complement of Intro to Geo. students waited on Monday morning for a late Dr. Potter. I’d never seen so many people packed in the room, to the point there were three kids I didn’t recognize sitting in my geeky, suddenly claustrophobic second row. Dr. Potter and Boone’s conspicuous absences agitated the throng until Dr. Banks, the head of the department, strode into the classroom at 9:15 with Boone close behind.

  “Good morning, folks,” the balding, pot-bellied professor said. “Dr. Potter had an unexpected family emergency. You each have a syllabus, I trust. Mr. Ramer showed me where you are, so continue through Chapter Six. Dr. Potter or one of the other professors will be here on Wednesday morning.”

  Several students raised their hands. He pointed to one.

  “Sir, could you, like, explain what is going on with the volcano?”

  The prof sighed, but I could see a spark of scientific fervor in his posture. Being a geologist right now must be like having a pilot’s license after a major plane crash—everybody wanted your knowledge. He summarized what Dr. Potter had t
old Boone and me on Friday, effectively scaring the hell out of everyone.

  After a few follow-up questions, he lifted his hands palms out toward us. “Look, I know everyone is starving for information, but my mineralogy class is waiting down the hall. You’ll find a list of reputable websites posted on our department webpage, and we’re compiling an overview of the Yellowstone Caldera to share with the campus. We are far enough from the volcano to be safe from the direct effects. As for the indirect effects, only time will tell. Now, I’m sorry for the inconvenience this morning, but I’ve got a scheduled class.”

  Students conversed as they filed out of their seats, most about the dire potential of Yellowstone. A few clueless wonders were more worried about the missed class.

  “Potter could have sent an email,” one complained.

  “Teachers always think their time is so much more valuable than ours,” another whined with a crack of her gum.

  When the room cleared, Boone said, “Potter sent Banks an email. He went to South Dakota to find his family. And who can blame him?”

  Text to Dad:

  My one o’clock class ran late on Tuesday, so I was tying my shoes when Boone knocked on the door. Mia kept him company while I filled up my water bladder and threw a handful of gels in my pack. I reached for my rig. Boone touched my shoulder to stop me and lifted the bike out of its wall rack. I tried to argue while he hoisted it on his shoulder.

  “Oh, yeah, Violet, I’ll follow you down the steps empty-handed while you carry your bike,” he said.

  “I usually just roll it,” I said lamely.

  Mia laughed. “You crazy kids have fun. Remember, the traffic rules apply to you, too.”

  “We’re going to be on a trail,” I said over my shoulder.

  Get some, she mouthed to me.

  I made a rude gesture with my hand, setting her off in peals of laughter.

  I almost tripped when I saw Boone wheeling my bike toward a tricked-out SUV. While not brand new, Boone’s truck shone in unblemished cherry red, with a sweet bike rack on the roof. He effortlessly lifted my bike next to his before I reached the car door. Slick. I waited while he clicked latches into place and shook the frame to make sure it was secure.

  He opened the passenger door for me, and I blushed, hoping he didn’t think I’d been expecting such service for a bike ride. A chrome step bar helped me clamber up into a buttery leather seat. Confused me watched confident him circle to the driver’s side.

  The engine started with a roar. I clicked my seatbelt in place then pondered him as he navigated through campus.

  “What?” he finally asked.

  “There’s a lot I don’t know about you.”

  “True.” He frowned at me. “Like what?”

  “I would never have put you in this vehicle.”

  “Why not?”

  “Where I grew up, when a boy said he’d pick me up in his truck, he meant something old, maybe a rusty, primer painted, jacked-up pickup with wide tires. The lucky ones had smokestacks coming up through the cargo bed.”

  The engine purred.

  “You’re nothing like those guys, but….”

  “But what?” His cheeks turned a little pink.

  “Well, this is like a luxury version of one of those. It’s really, really nice, Boone.” I glanced around the neat, I-didn’t-just-vacuum-this-for-you-this-morning interior. Speakers and cup holders filled every available nook. Two rows of cushy seats occupied the vast expanse of space behind us.

  “Did you expect me to pull up in a junker?”

  I’d irritated him. “No. I mean, you said you’d bring your truck, and I guess I pictured a twenty-year-old pickup that smelled like Cramer, that’s all.”

  He was silent for a minute, lips pressed in a tight line. “Cramer does stink up a car,” he admitted. “Look, my dad likes big vehicles. He also likes an excuse to get a new one every few years, so when Drew and I each got our licenses he handed down his current truck so he could upgrade.”

  “Nice,” I said. “Great rack on the roof, too.”

  “I have a kayak at home, and the bike, so it’s handy.”

  “It’s great. I didn’t mean to be rude, it’s, well, you’re an RA and a TA, and I figured you were working hard to get through school.” At his sharp look, I gave up. “Never mind, I’m making it worse.”

  He took pity on me. “Drew went to a state school in Nebraska. My parents are big on keeping everything equal so they’ll only pay an equivalent tuition for me. I had the football scholarship freshman and sophomore year but I had to make up the difference when I blew up my knee. So, I am working through school, I just don’t have to drive a piece of junk while I’m doing it, if that makes sense.”

  “Okay,” I said, holding my hands up in surrender. “I’m sorry. It’s totally none of my business.”

  His eyes slid over to me. “How are you getting through college?”

  “My parents,” I admitted. “They feel like they’re obligated to pay for me and Sara to go because their parents paid their tuitions. I work in the summer for spending money.”

  “Sara is your sister?”

  “She’s fifteen. Pretty. Popular. Good at everything except studying.”

  Boone nodded as if he had a mental picture of her already.

  We merged on to a bypass around Pittsburgh. “Where are we going?”

  “Greater Allegheny Passage. It’s a rail trail from Pittsburgh to Maryland. I figured we could ride as far as we want then turn around.”

  He handled the large SUV easily, without the usual jerkiness of a guy trying to impress a girl with his mad driving skills. We drove through the depressing remains of an old steel town before he pulled in at a parking lot in a place called Duquesne. He came to my side of the SUV even though I already had the door open. I slid down out of the seat. His hand on my arm stopped me from reaching back in for my pack.

  “Hey,” he said softly. “Before I get all sweaty and disgusting.” His kiss ignited sparks. I stepped in to press against him. A lift to my tiptoes brought me to the perfect height for my thighs to nestle against his. My arms slipped around his neck, all the encouragement he needed to deepen the kiss.

  His hands drifted from my shoulder blades, down my back, to my hips. I squeaked against his mouth when he took a possessive grip on my behind.

  He pulled away to look down at me with hooded eyes. “You look so hot in this little skirt. If you rode around campus there’d be a trail of guys jogging behind you.”

  The unexpected compliment made me blush. Oh sure, the ex had tried to get in my pants, but he’d never told me I was hot. And men followed Mia, not me. “You look pretty good yourself,” I whispered. I ran my hands across his shoulders, muscular under the thin quick-dry fabric clinging to them. “And, for future reference, I don’t mind sweat. At least, not yours.”

  His eyes smoldered. “That’s some good information right there.” He rocked my hips into tighter contact with his. His hands were strong and confident, a man’s hands, meant to make a woman pliable. That’s what they did to me, anyway.

  Something in his expression urged me to initiate another kiss, this one searching and tender, like we’d each admitted something special to one another when we’d hardly said anything at all. I pressed against him, demanding more. He gave, one hand still cupping my ass while the other centered on my back. His firm hold, the way it told me exactly how he wanted me to stand, inflamed me, from the top of my tingling scalp to the bottom of my curling toes.

  A car horn tooted merrily from the road. I dropped my face to his chest, his smell making me nuzzle the smooth cloth and wonder about the firm flesh I felt beneath. He slid his hand into my hair to cradle my head as he watched the vehicle drive away.

  “Shoot,” I said into his shirt.

  “Not a good spot,” he said gruffly. “Let’s take this ride.”

  I grabbed our packs from the back seat while Boone unloaded the bikes. “Do you want these crackers?” I called when I noti
ced a bright yellow box jammed in the pocket on the back of the passenger seat.

  “Nope,” he answered. When we were ready, he told me the plan. “I thought we could ride north, toward the city. There’s supposed to be a cool bridge. If we get there and double back we’d have about twenty miles in.”

  “Sounds good,” I said. “I think I’m finally rested up after Sunday.”

  The old rail bed wound along the Monongahela River, the trail surface packed with firm gravel where unpaved. We settled into a comfortable cadence, both of us selecting gears on the big ring of our bikes. We rode side by side as we skirted small towns jammed together in an industrial age version of urban sprawl.

  “How’s calculus going?” Boone asked.

  “Better. I’ve figured out I have to do my homework right after class or I’m screwed.”

  He laughed. “Exactly how I feel about Applied Econometrics. I’ve decided I’m okay at math and okay at economics, but I officially despise statistics.”

  “Is it required for your major?”

  “Yep.”

  “And what is your major, so I don’t make the mistake of picking anything with math worse than calculus?”

  He laughed again. “Agricultural Economics. It’s the main reason I chose Western Case, one of the smallest schools with the major I wanted.”

  “So, you knew as a freshman what you wanted to do?”

  “Pretty much. Drew was a straight Ag major. I’m supposed to become the business mind. Of course, if the ash keeps falling the way it is, that whole plan might be shot.”

  “Really? It’s bad at your ranch?”

  He squinted down the trail dappled with late afternoon light, the leaves overhead ranging from green to yellow to brown. “The corn crop was standing in the field when the ash started. Everyone is finding out corn harvesters don’t like ash. Their diesel engines don’t like it. The cutter heads don’t like it. The grain elevators don’t quite know what to do with corn that’s all mixed together with grit. On Tuesday, Dad says even some hauler trucks had broken down already. I haven’t gotten through since then.”