by Hayleigh Sol
As I watched, one jumper twisted into some kind of somersault that looked Cirque du Soleil worthy. Until he landed with a painful–sounding belly flop. He came out of the water with a cocky swagger I had to admire, high–fiving his friends before getting in line for another round.
There was a time I’d have done the same. A time I’d thought I could do anything I set my mind to. I hated that I’d become so…cautious. I used to be bold and up for the next adventure, just like Holly. She’d always been a little more reckless than I was comfortable with, but we’d shared that same unshakeable belief in ourselves.
When had that changed for me? Maybe it was just a natural part of getting older and more aware of my own mortality. I didn’t think that was it, though. It was more like the worries and insecurities over my business had bled into other aspects of my life. Taking a break from my relationship with Brad, committing to the next annual get–together with my best friends, even going on this trip—and buying a stupid bikini for it—were decisions I’d struggled to make.
I felt timid and incapable, like every choice I made—with my company and my life—was the wrong one or, at least, not the best one. Sick of myself but not knowing how to make anything better.
The belly flopper from before arced over the water and landed far more gracefully this time. I smiled and cheered silently for his victory. And his tenacity. Maybe I’d find the lady balls to make my own jump before this vacation was over.
Chapter 11
Stirring a pot of pre–made pasta as it warmed on the camp stove, I looked over my shoulder for the umpteenth time in the last ten minutes. I was jumpier than the frogs I’d started hearing as dusk settled around the campground. The last time I’d been on a first date—not, I reminded myself, that this was a first date—had been with Brad four years ago. We’d crossed paths on different work projects, though, so it hadn’t been quite as nerve–wracking as a first date. I was definitely nervous now.
Not a first date.
Luka might not even show. He could be busy with his family or forget he’d said he would come by. It was the not knowing that had me checking over my shoulder so often. I told myself it wasn’t a big deal either way, if he came or if he didn’t, but I knew I’d be disappointed.
Today had been a good day. I’d read for a while, taken a little snooze on my air mattress as it drifted down the still and almost silent channel off Willow Cove, gone for a swim to cool off, and forced my mind to quiet. Now I’d had a hot meal and would finish the evening off with another campfire.
After a hike tomorrow morning, who knew what I’d find to occupy the rest of the day. The thought of having nothing to do was a little overwhelming. But that was supposedly the beauty of a vacation, right? I didn’t have to plan every minute of the day. It actually sounded kind of…nice.
“There’s a happy camper smile.”
Luka’s voice startled me so actuely, a combination gasp–squeal erupted from me as I swung around, wielding the soapy pot in my hand as a weapon. “Holy crap, you scared me! Make some noise when you sneak up on a lady in a campground at night, dude.”
He chuckled but managed to look contrite. “Sorry, sorry, didn’t mean to startle you. You look pretty cute brandishing your saucepan, though. I think you could do some real damage there, champ.”
I lowered my raised—and suds–dripping—arm as my heart descended from my throat back to my chest. Luka calling me cute while teasing me was sending conflicting messages from my brain to various parts of my body. Was I flattered by the compliment or annoyed by the chuckle he was having at my expense? Mostly, I was embarrassed by my reaction to his sudden appearance, especially when I’d been looking for him all damn evening. But I’d always been easily frightened. There was no sense in being embarrassed over something unlikely to change.
“I could do some damage, so you just remember that the next time you sneak up on me, buster.”
My bravado only seemed to tickle him more. He laughed and leaned a hand on the picnic table where I finished rinsing my dishes in the tubs I’d brought for that purpose. “I promise, there was no sneaking involved. Not intentionally, anyway. Can I make amends with dessert?”
He held up the bag I hadn’t realized was dangling from his other hand.
“Maybe… What kind of dessert?”
“That’s my girl. Make me work for it.”
Oh my. Ignoring both the fact that he called me his girl and the sexy innuendo of making him work for it.
Luka set his bag of goodies on the table and started pulling out items with all the showmanship of a magician. “What else would I bring camping but s’mores. These ones are special, but I’m not telling you why until you try one.”
The way he’d emphasized “special” put me instantly on alert. I’d heard that kind of inflection before. “They’re not pot s’mores, are they?”
“I can’t imagine how I’d manage that but, no, this dessert is drug–free.” He was blocking my view of his work and only turned around to hand me a marshmallow on a skewer. “Do we consider marijuana a “drug” anymore now that it’s legal in California?”
“This girl does.” I gestured to myself and ended up bopping my boob with the marshmallow. I was hopeless. “Too many years of hearing about the evils of any and all mind–altering substances to just throw caution to the wind now, I guess. No judgement, though, if you partake.”
Fleetingly, I wondered if he thought I was a square, then decided it didn’t matter if he did. I was who I was.
“I used to, back in school, but it just made me sleepy and hungry so I didn’t see the point. Come on, let’s go set these babies on fire.”
Laughing, I shook my head at him and sat in the beach chair while he dragged over my ice chest to serve as his own seat. “Silly Lukasz, you don’t want carcino–mallow, you want golden–brown perfection. Watch the master.”
“Carcino–mallow?”
“Yeah, burnt to a crisp, full of carcinogens.”
He proceeded to char his own, picking off and tossing the burnt outer skin in the fire as I pitied his life choices. “See, no carcinogens now. By the way, I like that you still remember how to say my full name. Most people can’t figure out the pronunciation so everyone just calls me Luke.”
Probably not the appropriate time to tell him I thought his name was sexy. Of course, when we’d met at ten, I’d simply liked the otherness of it. Now the way the soft “sz” buzzed on my tongue made me hot. I didn’t know why. Sometimes there’s just no explaining why something turns us on.
“Anyway, tell me more about this company you started.”
My perfectly toasted marshmallow was ready and Luka had already eaten his first and scorched a second. We walked to the table together and he took the skewer from me, assembling my s’more with the chocolate and graham crackers he’d already set out. I started to tell him about Green for Green but paused to take a bite before the oozing marshmallow escaped and ran down my arm.
There’s a lot of debate about the messiest and worst foods to eat on a date—not a date—but I would like to submit s’mores as a contender for the top five. Maybe top three.
By the time I finished, there was melted chocolate and sticky marshmallow on multiple fingers and both thumbs. The neater I tried to be, the bigger mess I’d made. Luka, naturally, managed to eat his like a professional and set out the makings for another round, which I declined. I excused myself to clean up at the restroom, then joined him back by the fire as he polished off his final bite. While I’d been gone, he’d apparently visited his own campsite and brought back a chair for himself. He looked quite cozy fireside as he offered me a bottle of water.
“Thanks, I was just thinking I needed some water.” I settled into my chair next to his. “Okay, I’m ready for the big reveal. What made those s’mores so special? They were delicious, by the way.”
“Glad you liked ‘em.” There was a funny half–smile on his face as he wetted a paper towel with water from his own bottle.
Aha! He’s not so perfect at eating s’mores after all.
Instead of using his wet–nap, he leaned toward me and placed one hand on the side of my face, his fingers warm and strong, his touch gentle. My eyebrows flew up in surprise. Surely he wasn’t moving in for a kiss. We’d only just—
“You got a little marshmallow on the tip of your nose. With no mirrors in the bathroom, I figured you wouldn’t catch it.” He rubbed the damp paper towel over the offending splotch and I scolded myself for my ridiculous assumption.
“They were vegan.”
“Sorry, what?”
“The marshmallows and chocolate.” Sitting up, he assumed an official posture. “No animals were harmed in the making of these s’mores.” He relaxed and propped his elbows on his knees. “My brother was giving me a hard time about ‘em last night and I said he was imagining they tasted different because he knew. He dared me to bring them here and see if you could tell.”
Huh, was Luka vegan? That was pretty…unexpected and cool.
“Well, you can tell him that I thought they were great and nope, couldn’t tell a difference at all. Wait, does he know who you came to visit?”
He glanced down at the dirt between his feet, then back to me with a shy smile. “Yeah, I told everyone I ran into you earlier. They gave me a bunch of crap about coming over here. All good–natured, of course. My sister–in–law and niece grilled me about you on and off all day and, right before I came over, my idiot brother stuffed a bunch of—you know what, never mind.”
“What?” He shook his head. “Oh, you have to tell me now.” This was awesome. I’d made a fool of myself with the messy dessert but Luka practically squirming in his seat now more than made up for it.
“Condoms.”
I burst out laughing. The face he pulled was strained but I could tell he wanted to laugh with me.
“My pain–in–the–ass big brother tried to fill my pockets with more Trojans than any man could use in a single night, laughing his damn head off the entire time. I thought I’d found all of them but he must’ve slipped some in the box of graham crackers when I wasn’t looking. I was so nervous you were going to see them.”
I managed to stifle my chortles, matching him grin for reluctant grin. “That’s fantastic. I forgot what a prankster your brothers were.” Luka only shook his head again. “So, he thought you were coming over for a campground hookup, huh? If you see the tent a–rockin’, don’t come a–knockin’.”
“Like I said, he’s an idiot.” Luka laughed and changed the subject.
We caught up on the college years. He was surprised when I told him my first major was in architectural studies. When he asked why I’d changed, I was embarrassed to admit it was because math had never been my strong suit. My mom had encouraged me to choose a different major when she’d seen me struggling through my advanced calculus classes.
Luka had continued to play soccer at university until a chronic tendonitis had him hanging up his cleats; these days he was team captain of a local recreational league. I told him I’d taken ballet classes at my university and would’ve loved to dance still, but finding adult classes with my limited schedule had proven impossible.
“I remember you danced when we were younger. You should make the time now; they probably offer weekend classes, right? Or evenings during the week?”
“It’s not that simple.”
“But you light up when you talk about it, Maya. It’s obvious you miss it.”
He was right that I did. Very much. I’d never been good enough to go the professional route. I wouldn’t have wanted to put myself through the soul–crushing torture of trying and failing anyway.
But I did miss the energy and confidence consistent practice had always given me. “Maybe, sometime in the future, I’ll be able to take classes again. It just isn’t realistic right now.”
Luka’s frown showed his dissatisfaction with my dismissal. “It seems a shame that the owner of her own company can’t move some obligations around.”
Only someone who didn’t own their own business would think the owner had that much freedom. I’d heard similar opinions before, though, and it wasn’t worth explaining or justifying the choices I’d made. If I wanted to be successful, sacrifices were required.
“Tell me more about your design work. Do you get to choose your own projects?” I was more comfortable deflecting his views regarding my decisions in favor of discovering more about him. Since I’d learned what he did for work, I’d wondered if he was independent or if he worked for an architectural firm.
He hesitated, looking as if he might not allow me to shift the conversation so easily, but he went with it. “Right now, I’m part of a great outfit that’s really into sustainable design. The projects I get are assigned to me, but I could probably pass if there was one I didn’t really connect with. A couple of guys I went to school with have been talking about starting our own firm, but I’m happy where I am and just don’t know if I want to take the risk.” He tilted his head, his gaze steady on me. “You’re very brave, you know? Starting and managing your own company all this time.”
I laughed, my mouth twisting wryly. “You say brave, I say delusional. Most of the time, I feel like a fraud who’s barely keeping it together. Like I have no idea what I’m doing and I’m one step away from losing everything. Becoming a statistic. Did you know fifty percent of all small businesses fail in the first three years? Or maybe it’s five; I can’t remember.”
Jeez, Maya, overshare much?
“But that’s what makes you brave. In spite of the statistics, you’re still out there, still trying.”
Luka didn’t know anything about the actual financial status of Green for Green; he didn’t know I struggled with certain members of my staff or choosing the right marketing, didn’t know I felt miles away from my original goals for the company. Strangely, his compliment gave me a boost anyway.
“Speaking of being ‘out there’, does you being here solo mean there’s no Mr. Maya in your life?”
Interesting segue. Had he been curious about my relationship status as I had been about his? I guess it was only natural to wonder about the love life of someone you’d once slept with when you ran into them so many years later. “No Mr. Maya and, as of about a month ago, no Boyfriend Maya, either.”
“My girlfriend and I called it about a month back, too. Closer to two months now, actually. Do you miss your guy or was the breakup a good thing?”
“It’s funny, we officially called it just ‘a break’ and I thought we both were hoping it would work out. Especially since he’s helping me with my business and we’re considering bringing him in as a partner there.” Luka’s eyebrows raised. “I know that probably sounds weird, working with your ex, but for the last year or more, our relationship had become more coworkers than anything else. Anyway, Brad’s been dating lately and I find it doesn’t bother me as much as it should, you know, if I were still hoping for a reconciliation.
“What about you? Was ending things with your girlfriend the right choice?”
Luka looked into the fire, then back at me and nodded. “Yeah, we weren’t really on the same page anymore. Maybe we never were.”
I waited for him to elaborate but his gaze returned to the glowing embers and dying flames. It was still early enough that I added another log to keep the fire going. By the time I returned to my chair, Luka’s pensiveness had vanished as if it had never been.
Chapter 12
Luka and I chatted for another hour or two, long enough for the firewood I’d added to burn down to blackened cinders. He was as easy to talk to and laugh with as he had been in my memory and, though we both started yawning every other sentence, I was disappointed when he stood to leave.
“This was fun, I’m glad y
ou came by.” And then, because the little devil on my shoulder told me to go ahead, “Think you were here long enough for your brother to believe we got it on?”
Luka barked a sharp laugh. “Yeah, let’s not encourage him. I wouldn’t put it past that dickhead to come over here and hassle you with his nonsense.”
“Hmm, what would I tell him, I wonder… You were the best I’ve ever had? You’ve ruined me for all other men?”
His eyes rounded and his jaw dropped. “Uh, yes please. That might be the only thing that’d shut him up.” We shared the thousandth laugh of the evening; my cheeks actually ached from smiling so much. “Look, they’re all heading out of here tomorrow after breakfast, hoping to get a jump on traffic. You wanna go do something once they’re gone?”
“What’d you have in mind?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. Anything you’ve been wanting to do?”
“Well, I’d planned a morning hike, or trail run, if the route’s not too technical. At some point, I might rent a jet ski and head down to the other end of the lake, check out a beach my family always liked.”
“Sounds great. Mind if I join you?”
“For the hike or the beach?”
He tilted his head, almost like an adorable puppy. “Both, if that’s okay? We can rent jet skis or take my boat down to the beach, pack a lunch, make an afternoon of it.”
Part of me thought we might run out of things to talk about, or get sick of each other after that much time together. It was a risk I was willing to take.
“Okay, why don’t you come by once your family’s left? If they stay longer than planned, I’ll just head out on the hike myself and we can try to meet up for the afternoon.”
Luke suggested we exchange phone numbers, even after I told him how unpredictable my service had been around the lake. It had been a long time since I’d given my number to a hot guy, making me feel once more like we were making plans for a date. Before he returned to his campsite, he hugged me again, the dueling sensations of comfort and excitement not helping to remove that date–y feeling.