by Kat Bastion
The roadside scenery thickened with pine, an occasional sycamore or walnut breaking through. He slowed and downshifted as our gently winding road began to climb in elevation. “Well, I haven’t been marking a calendar, but I’m pretty sure it was after Valentine’s Day.”
“Not before?” I smirked. “Afraid of the hearts-and-flowers holiday?”
“Not afraid. Just smart enough to avoid it.” He gave a sharp nod, like it emphasized his wisdom. “Your turn.”
For some reason, the laidback nature of our conversation lulled me into wanting to be truthful with him. A part of me wanted what he offered. Other than Cade, Ben, and Mase—all essentially brothers to me—I’d never had a platonic guy friend. After the disaster in high school, I’d avoided getting close to anyone, preventing any kind of emotion for the opposite sex.
However, in the spirit of keeping aboveboard with our experiment in friendship, I reflected back to the last time I’d had a hookup.
“Waiting…” He drummed both thumbs on the steering wheel.
“Thinking…” I crossed my arms over my chest, staring out the windshield at the dense forest on either side of the road as I searched my memory. The further back my mind went, the more it seemed hopeless to even give a date to it. Not since last summer. Not in the spring. Not after the New Year’s Eve party where Cade had gotten some—and none of the rest of us had. “Damn.”
“That bad?”
“Ancient.”
“We talking months?”
“Over a year.” I sighed. “Under two.”
“Why so long?”
“Seriously?” I choked out a laugh. “Would’ve been a few days ago if you’d cooperated.”
He cast me a penetrating look. He waited a silent beat. Then he glanced ahead again before changing lanes and turning into a gravel parking lot.
Once we parked, he twisted toward me, expression growing serious. “There have to be other guys that fit the bill.”
“Sure. Athletes, mostly. My first stretch was football players. Then a couple of baseball players. One guy played hockey.”
“Nothing serious?”
“Nope.”
“Not even close?”
Yeah, so not going there. Apparently I had limits with the whole disclosure thing. “Not even a ‘boyfriend’ tag,” I hedged, not fully answering the question. Fidgeting under his sudden scrutiny, I volleyed the topic back. “What about you? What’s up with ‘Mr. Complicated’?”
His expression hardened. “We don’t have enough hours to cover that ground.”
“Hmmm…interesting.” I wasn’t the only one who buckled under romance pressure.
He nodded his chin toward the dashboard. “Ready to tackle a mountain?”
I leaned forward and glanced up through the windshield. “Mountain?” I paused, swallowing hard. “You’re kidding, right?”
“No. Don’t be scared, Flash. It’s just like the track. Only vertical.”
“I’m not scared,” I huffed, shoving open my door.
“Never thought it for a moment.”
“Jerk,” I muttered.
The corners of his lips twitched.
I shook my head with a soft snort, then tore off toward the trailhead, not waiting for him. He shouted something, but I couldn’t hear him over the pounding of my feet and blood rushing past my eardrums. Of course, I slowed after about a minute. I’d learned my lesson the first time on the track. Run at my own pace.
Seconds after I slowed, he caught up to me. “Remember the instructions that came with the Vibrams?”
I gave a nod, slowing a bit more so I could talk. “Shorter strides. Forward and center of the foot instead of heel-striking.”
“Right.” He fell in behind me. “And for our first trail run, here’s a few tips: Walk the downhills, sprint the uphills, and chart your path ahead of time—avoid rocks and sapling tree stumps.”
“Why walk the downhills?” We approached a downslope, and I slowed to a brisk walk, picking my way down the dirt-lined sections.
“Until you’re used to running on uneven terrain and downhill, it’s safest. No point in risking a knee blowout or broken ankle.”
“Or worse.” We rounded a narrow bend in the trail, and I leaned toward the outside edge, peering over. “Damn. That’s one hell of a drop.” Not straight down, but a good seventy-percent grade, at least. Nothing I wanted to tumble down.
“Right. So stick to the inside edge of the trail. Especially with oncoming.”
“Oncoming?” Through the dense trees, I could only make out the trail a few dozen yards ahead.
“Bikers, hikers, other trail runners.”
“Sure. Because if running uphill with a sheer drop-off isn’t enough, an out-of-control mountain biker at twenty miles an hour ought to scare some caution into you.”
“It’ll be fine.” He shifted behind me as the trail narrowed.
“Wildlife?” Unfamiliar forest surrounded us.
“Will there be any, you mean?”
I paused at a tricky hairpin bend, brows raised. “Lions, tigers…bears?”
“Mountain lions, no tigers…black bears.”
“Great.” I turned back around picking my way along the rocky path, staring hard into the denser sections of foliage, suddenly feeling eyes staring back.
“Haven’t you ever been out in the wilderness before?”
The slope leveled out, and I resumed my steady running pace. “Does the park count?”
“No.”
I couldn’t readily explain why I’d never been out in a forest. For some reason, I’d stayed indoors most of my life. Art had become my conduit to nature, something I created—a world I had control of.
“Uphill!” I tore off, concentrating on the trail. I charted my path around rocks and exposed roots, found softer earthen sections to land footfalls on, and willed all wild predators and oncoming mountain bikers to stay the hell back.
And the runner’s euphoria I’d often heard about hit three-quarters of the way up the steep winding section of path. Gone were all my troubles. Sexual frustration? Obliterated.
In its place flooded a sense of rightness in the moment, in the beautiful expanse of nature around me—all with a guy who’d started out as a one-night stand candidate.
I could hardly believe what had begun to happen between us. Wasn’t sure I even trusted it. When I’d stopped paying attention, Darren had transformed from just a guy I just wanted to get physical with…into something remotely, possibly, vaguely resembling a friend.
As the realization hit, a solid dose of fear shuddered through me.
The challenge hadn’t been real. It had only been a guise for me to be around him more—lure him into that one-night stand status I knew I could handle.
Friends? I didn’t know how to handle at all. Wasn’t sure I could.
To cope with the sudden spike of anxiety, I ran faster, pushed harder. And I did what I seemed to be a master at lately: I put on a brave face and forced myself to ignore the threat.
Darren…
With a sudden burst of energy, Kiki raced ahead. “How’s my running form look?”
Fucking spectacular. “Great.”
I almost tripped. Her ass looked incredible in those tight yoga pants.
Get your shit together, D.
I shook my head to clear it. Needed to be on the program I’d made Kiki abide by. She was just a friend. All she could ever be.
At a level section a few yards ahead, she turned. Cheeks pinked from her sprint. Black hair pulled up in a swaying ponytail. Only her hair wasn’t quite black; sunlight brightened the top of her head, glinting a flash of dark brown. Her breasts lifted and fell as she tried to catch her breath.
Eyes up, idiot. Yeah. The whole “friends” thing? Harder than I’d thought.
Happiness radiated from her eyes, bright blue in the angled afternoon light.
As soon as I got within ten feet of her, she tore off up the trail again at an even faster pace.
“Easy, Flash,” I shouted, picking up speed. “I’m not scraping you off the ground.”
Truth…I quickly closed the gap between us; I’d be sure to cushion her fall. Not in any other way than a friend. Protector. The role I’d assumed, because it fit me like a second glove.
My thoughts bled dark, painfully reminding me that I hadn’t always succeeded. I’d failed one person. One time. In the worst way possible.
The memory served as both punishment and motivator. Helped me strengthen my resolve to never let another soul fall on my watch. And why I couldn’t be more than a friend to Kiki. Because another someone who I’d vowed to protect above all others had to come first.
But on the trail ahead, Kiki was my charge. And— “Dammit,” I growled under my breath as she raced out of my sight around a bend for the second time in as many minutes.
By the time I finally paced a few strides behind her again, we’d almost reached the summit. Not a great distance, but the perfect challenging beginner’s trail run: thickly forested, a mix of undulating straightaways coupled with several steady climbs.
“WhooHooo!” She held her arms up in a V above her head at the summit viewpoint area and sucked in big gulps of air. Then she broke into a broad smile.
I grinned. Couldn’t help it.
“C’mon, join me!” She relaxed her arms halfway, then shot them straight up into a V again. “Be the tree!”
I snorted out a short laugh, then pressed my lips together. I forced my tone comically flat. “Be the tree.” I slowly raised my arms to join her.
“Yep. Be the tree. In the moment. One with nature. Be. The. Tree.” Her eyes widened as she punctuated each word. “I’m gonna make T-shirts.”
Before I had a chance to weigh in, she was on the move again, energy in motion.
“Damn, Flash.” I walked closer to where she paced a wide circle in the dirt of the flattened overlook. “Endorphins are your brand of drug.”
“I feel amazing!” She burst her arms upward again.
“Thought you might like this better than a pavement run. You and nature.”
“My art.” Her smile softened.
“Exactly.” Although it surprised me she hadn’t made that leap before. I’d have thought nature would’ve been her second home.
“I never want to leave here,” she announced with a hard nod. “That’s it. Screw a 5K. I’m trail running.”
Had no idea why her statement filled me with pride, but it did. Maybe because she’d found her element in a sport she’d been lured in by. And I’d guided her the rest of the way there.
In a sudden rush of energy, she charged toward the edge, angling toward a small flattened boulder. She coiled down as she approached, then sprang up, leaping onto it.
“WhooHooo…Hooo…Hooo…” Her excitement echoed through the canyon.
A squeak pierced out. Then she jumped straight up right as the boulder rattled, then gave way.
I lunged forward, but the distance was too great.
“Darren!” She clutched a pine branch, facing outward. About two feet beyond the edge.
Fuck.
Panic surged through me. “Hold tight, Kiki.”
“Not going anywhere.” Her tone turned somber.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
“Can you turn around?” Adrenaline fired into my veins, sharpening what I needed to focus on.
Instead of answering, she tightened her grip. A couple of seconds later, she released her left handhold, and, in one quick motion, twisted her arm, crossed her wrists, then released her other hand and spun around.
Her eyes were wide with terror.
“You’re okay, Kiki. Just look at me. You’re almost there. Trust me.”
She replied with a curt nod, then took a deep breath.
“Can you swing toward me?”
She frowned. “Not sure. The branch is bending. I feel like I’m dropping.”
I’d noticed. Hadn’t wanted to mention it. The newer wood hadn’t gained enough tensile strength to bear her weight for long.
“Focus on me. Give me a hard swing. Then a second one. On the third, let go.” I inched as close to the edge as I dared with the unstable soil.
She immediately flexed her upper arms, then swung halfway toward me. On the backswing, her eyes widened and she sucked in a panicked breath, legs dangling over greater open air. When she swung forward the second time, a loud crack happened from the force; the branch began to break.
Shit!
“Let go!” I shouted. Instinct had me dart toward the right at the last second so I could launch at her from the side. As I planted a foot, I crouched, sprang forward, and aimed for her legs. I wrapped an arm behind her knees and jerked forcefully toward solid ground.
We tumbled sideways in a tangle of arms and legs before landing in a heap on the dirt.
“Fuck.” I huffed out a relieved breath. “That was close.”
The only thing that saved us—saved her—was a split-second reaction. A blink of time later and…I didn’t even want to think about it.
Her body covered mine, hands clinging tightly to my shoulders, legs clamped to my hips. Her chest pressed against mine, amplifying how hard our hearts pounded.
With every lengthening breath, she began to ease her death grip on me.
Then her body began to tremble.
“Hey, it’s okay.” I murmured. “You’re okay.” I rubbed her back with an unpinned arm.
“Thank you.” She spoke in the barest whisper. The louder-than-life girl who’d been shouting from a mountaintop seconds ago had been humbled by nature.
“No worries. Just another day running.”
She didn’t laugh at my dry humor. Made no move to get off me.
Adrenaline began to seep from my veins with the danger gone.
Then blood flooded elsewhere.
Her hold on my shoulders tightened. She pushed her body up enough to look me in the eye. “Ummm…are you growing hard for me?”
“Yes.” No point denying it. The evidence emerged right there between us. “Can’t help it. You are laying on top of me.”
Her first smile since we’d landed on the ground slowly appeared. “You put me here.” Teasing edged her voice.
Didn’t bother disputing it. Better to have her safe and deal with a raging hard-on.
My gaze fell to her full lips; the lower one was red. I remembered her biting it while she’d hung from that tree limb. Frustration suddenly fired into me—that I’d let her endanger herself in the first place.
I blew out a heavy sigh, trying to expel the growing anger at myself.
Her smile faltered.
Then she pushed off me and rolled onto the dirt, arms flinging wide. The back of one hand thumped onto my chest.
She stared up at the sky, smile widening once again. “WhooHooo!” She shouted louder than before.
I shook my head, chuckling. Humor worked. Better than the wrong near-deadly turn we’d almost taken. And the sexual path we’d stumbled toward…
With a grunt, I ignored a flash of pain that fired through my head from smacking it on the ground and shoved upright. Then I offered her a hand up.
She took it and we dusted ourselves off. Then we methodically bent our arms and legs checking for injuries.
I ran my hands over my arms and legs, then glanced at her. “Any holes?”
Her brow wrinkled, then the corners of her mouth twitched. “I wasn’t shot; we fell.” She patted herself down anyway then gave me a nod. “I’m good.”
With a slow exhale, she plopped her hands onto her hips. Then she narrowed her eyes at the trail from the direction we’d come from before glancing toward where it continued. “Which way, Coach?”
I nodded back down the trail. “A one-and-a-half mile walk downhill back to the car. Another three if we continue on.”
She arched her brows. “Running?”
“Running.”
“Better keep up, then. No way in hell am I letting a little stumble get the be
tter of me.”
Without warning, she charged off around the next curve.
I raced after her, scared as fuck that her kamikaze attitude would throw her into another dangerous situation. There were plenty of other drop-offs and blind curves.
Around the following bend, I caught up, then jogged beside her. “As often as you can, scan ahead to anticipate anyone barreling toward you. Remember those adrenaline-junky mountain bikers take downhills at idiotic speeds.”
She pressed our pace faster. As if testing me. Or our ability to speak while running. “And your suggestion? If I find myself squaring off with a reckless biker?”
“Jump toward the mountain. Even if you have to throw yourself on it. Forces any oncoming to take the outside. Makes ’em slow the fuck down.”
“Got it. Throw myself on the mountain.” Her breaths came in shorter huffs between her words, yet she kept the challenging pace. “Any other tips?”
“Yeah. Watch for deceiving angles in curves. Logic tells you the grade would slope into a curve. Yet sometimes it does the opposite: slants toward the outside edge. Loose dirt and rocks are like ball bearings. Your foot slides if you lean too much toward the inside on an outward angle like that. The trail does what it wants and is merciless if you aren’t on board with it.”
Now I’d grown out of breath. So had she. And she hadn’t been talking. Still we pressed on, pace gradually easing as the incline leveled off then angled into a gentle downhill.
As soon as a level straightaway appeared, she sprinted ahead. When she’d gained a dozen yards, she glanced over her shoulder. “Race ya!”
I tore off, picking up speed. Not trying to beat her, but hell-bent on keeping up.
The girl who’d wanted to “get in shape” had all kinds of surprises up her sleeve, including a natural running ability. And boundless energy. And no fear of mountains—or their drop-offs.
In my world of hustling from one thing to the next, barely holding it all together, Kiki Michaelson was a breath of fresh air.
And I suddenly found myself wanting…more.
Kiki…
“Wait. Darren, there’s a race for this?”
Slowing to a jog, I plucked the sheet from the trailhead’s memo board, then paced in a wide circle. My breaths came in short bursts from sprinting the straightaway that had stretched from the end of the trail to the gravel parking lot.