Meet Me at the Summit

by Mandi Lynn

  “We’d have to make stops along the way anyways. Might as well make them fun,” Dylan says, coming up to stand in front of me, staring at me in a way that’s asking me to trust him.

  I decide to take that leap of faith, however untethered I feel.

  Chapter 23

  Dylan drives the bus for a few hours as we make our way across state lines. We revert to the original plan of taking the long way home, driving east for the coast before turning north. Our first stop is Tennessee, where we plan to stay for a few days to explore the Smoky Mountains. A quell of worry bustles inside my chest, but I push it away, begging myself to enjoy the trip.

  After almost six hours of driving, we pull off the highway onto rural back roads that lead us to our campground for the night. The sun is beginning to set when we get there, giving us just enough light to set up camp for the night.

  We’re nestled in the back of the campground, far away from the bathrooms this time. There’s a brook that runs behind our campsite, with a calming white noise that circulates around us.

  I pull the picnic table closer to the bus while Dylan pulls the pop-up into place.

  “You can sleep in the bus, you know,” I say, watching him as he dumps the tent out and unfolds the tarp.

  Dylan lets a grin slip as he clears sticks from the ground. “I know you love to cuddle up with me at night, but you really do have to sleep in the bus alone at least once,” he says.

  I can feel my face turn red, and I step back into the bus to hide it. Pulling some food out of the cabinets, I start making dinner. The night passes slowly, and it makes me feel unsettled. Dylan’s tent is set up next to the bus, and the fire gives everything a soft light, but I feel off.

  “Ready to head to bed?” Dylan asks as the fire begins to die out. I pull my phone out of my pocket to see that it’s 9:45 p.m. “If you’re up for it tomorrow, I found a good place to catch the sunrise in the morning. We’d have to wake up at four a.m. to drive there, though. There’s a little bit of a hike, but not much.”

  I raise an eyebrow. “We could have gone to bed sooner if that’s the case,” I say. I get up from the picnic table and walk over to the bus, but Dylan pulls my hand and grips me in a hug. The movement is a shock at first, but I quickly surrender to it and lay my head against his chest.

  “Go get some sleep,” he says, his voice so soft I almost don’t hear it.

  I pull away just enough to see his face, and I lean forward to kiss him quickly. The touch of his lips is so light against mine, that part of me is tempted to stay there. I lean away, giving him a quick smile. I’m about to step away when he pulls me back, kissing me again, this time his thumb on my cheek, holding me there as his fingers tangle with my hair. I feel suddenly at ease, like there was a knot in my chest that only Dylan could help me untangle. Even when the kiss is over, I stay there, my forehead resting on his, feeling his breath against my check. When I open my eyes, he shifts away, smiling at me before retreating into his tent.

  I want the memory of that kiss to be the thing that allows me to drift to sleep, but it never happens. Instead, my mind worries, and again I fixate on every sound around me, trying to find a logical reason I’m hearing it. And then I worry about not being able to sleep. Only I am able to worry so much about not sleeping that I don’t sleep. When the night is finally quiet, I lay with eyes wide, waiting for some sort of switch in my brain to turn off. It’s a cruel game my mind is playing.

  I try not to check my phone. The first time I do, it’s 12:30 a.m., which only makes my anxiety worse. I consider going into Dylan’s tent to let the proximity of his body calm me, but I stop myself. Instead, I find myself tossing and turning all night, my mind going over everything that had happened in the past couple of days. Every now and then, a noise outside the bus causes my heart rate to spike and my breathing stop while I listen too hard, trying to identify the sound. Each time it happens, it takes me a few minutes to calm down enough to slow my heart rate.

  I fall asleep at some point when my mind is too exhausted to go on, but too soon, Dylan knocks at the bus door.

  “Marly,” Dylan’s voice whispers on the other side.

  I shift in bed, eyelids heavy. I lean forward enough to pull the handle and push the door open. Dylan is already dressed with his backpack on.

  “You still want to go?” he asks after giving me a glance.

  I push my blanket away, shocked by how cold the outside air is.

  “Yeah, sorry, I forgot to set an alarm. Just give me a minute,” I say, leaning to the side to open the cabinet I keep my clothes in.

  “Just open the door when you’re ready,” Dylan says.

  I get dressed quickly, putting on as many layers as I can, and splash water from the sink on my face. When I open the door, Dylan is walking back around to the side of the bus.

  “I unplugged the power and water line, so we’re good to go,” he says, walking toward the driver’s seat.

  “What about the tent?” I ask, glancing over at it in the dark.

  “It will be fine. We’re nothing but tent sites back here anyway.”

  Dylan drives, and I drift in and out of sleep, leaning against the door, cheek resting on the window. It takes about forty-five minutes to get to the trailhead, and by the time we get to the parking lot, the sky is already lightening.

  Where we park isn’t typical for hiking. There’s some sort of cement walking bridge in the middle of a parking lot, and plenty of woods around us, but I don’t think that’s where we’re going.

  “Where are we?” I ask, rubbing my eyes awake.

  “Observation tower,” Dylan says, stepping out of the bus. He comes around to meet me on the other side and opens the door for me. “It’s also the highest point in Tennessee. Welcome to Clingmans Dome.”

  We walk from a paved path to a concrete bridge that ends at a circular structure rising over the trees. We take our time getting to the end, but when we do, we have a few more minutes to wait before the sun rises.

  I’m starting to set up my camera when Dylan pulls off his backpack and takes out his sleeping bag.

  “What are you doing?” I ask, watching him unzip the sleeping bag until it’s one wide blanket.

  “Keeping you warm while you take photos,” he says, pulling the sleeping bag until it extends across his back from arm to arm. He walks up behind me and wraps his arms around my waist, circling me in warmth. “Can you still take photos?”

  I pull my camera up in front of my face and take a photo of the sky that’s shifting from dark blue to a faded orange. “It works,” I say.

  Dylan stays there with his arms wrapped around me while we both lean against the railing of the platform. The sun has yet to make its debut over the horizon, but we both wait in anticipation. The mountains in the distance are shades of purple and blue, while the sky shifts to a bright orange and pink as the minutes pass. We watch in silence as the sun makes its first appearance, peeking out over a mountain off in the distance. It’s bright, almost white-yellow, and the surrounding clouds start to glow as well.

  I take too many photos, watching the sun lift higher and higher into the sky. Sunrises come with a different type of adrenaline when you’re a photographer. I’m always afraid I’ll miss the colors, and the perfect moment, so I spend every second capturing photos, hoping at least one photo will do the view justice.

  Dylan doesn’t say anything as I work, but he watches me. I can sense him looking over my shoulder, looking at the photos I take, and watching me adjust the exposure and color balance.

  “Give me a second,” I say, pulling away. He lets his arms drop from my waist, and I take a few steps back to set up my camera. I had brought my travel tripod in my backpack this time and attach the camera, setting the tripod up behind us. “Stay where you are,” I tell him.

  It takes a few tries to get the settings on my camera, but once I have it set
up, Dylan is a black silhouette, and the sunrise is colorful and bright behind him. I hit the timer button on my camera and rush over.

  “Put the blanket down and look out at the sunrise next to me,” I say. He throws the sleeping bag to the side and stands behind me, wrapping his arm around me. I lean in toward him as the camera snaps photos of us. When the last shutter goes off, I check the camera, smiling when I see the photo.

  “Can I see?” Dylan asks, picking up the sleeping bag.

  I bring the camera over, thankful when Dylan wraps his arm around me again and the warmth envelops me.

  As the sun rises higher in the sky, I put my camera down until it hangs on the strap around my neck. I lean back into Dylan’s chest, and he holds me. We stand in silence for a long time, letting the morning mountain air hang between us.

  “Marly, look to the right,” Dylan whispers, bringing my mind back to the surface.

  I stand up straighter and turn to the side, only to see the mountains are glowing in the morning air. You can see everything now. Each ridge of the mountains is highlighted by the sun and glowing shades of orange with the sunrise. I can make out the individual trees as they glow and line the mountaintops. I pick up my camera again and take a few more photos.

  When I put it down the second time, I’m tempted to sit. Dylan seems hyperaware of my exhaustion and leads me to the railing until he can sit with his back against it, pulling me toward him so I can lean against his chest fully. I pull the sleeping bag back until it’s tucked under my chin, and the only cold part of me is my nose.

  At some point, I fall asleep. I’m not aware of when it happens, just that when Dylan moves to get more comfortable, I’m stirred awake.

  “Sorry,” he says, gripping me tighter.

  “I didn’t mean to fall asleep,” I say. I look around to see the sky is blue now, with no signs of the sunrise.

  “You slept in the bus by yourself last night,” Dylan says, rubbing my arm as if to say congratulations.

  I shake my head. “Not really. I fell asleep at some point, but I don’t think I was asleep long.”

  “What time did you fall asleep?” he asks.

  “I’m not sure. I stopped checking because every time I did, I got more freaked out about the fact that I still couldn’t fall asleep.”

  Dylan leans forward a little to rest his chin on the top of my head and hugs me a little. “You could have woken me up,” he says.

  “I didn’t want to,” I say.

  “Why?”

  “Don’t need both of us to be sleepless,” I say, trying to make the words light so we can brush over the conversation.

  “Marly, in case it wasn’t clear, I came along to make sure you feel safe,” Dylan says. He kisses the top of my head, and part of me is tempted to turn until I’m able to kiss him back. The other part of me, the more nervous part, is happy to sit in this bliss and let the moment soak in as it is.

  Dylan doesn’t push the conversation further, but the silence between us is worse. I’m afraid of what conclusions he’s coming to on his own.

  “I have a hard time sleeping in the bus at night because I can’t stop thinking,” I volunteer, but the words seem silly when I say them.

  “What do you mean?” Dylan asks.

  “Every time I hear a sound, it freaks me out until I can come up with a reason for the sound. I can’t relax, and the break-in only made things worse. Even when I was back home, I just watched TV until I fell asleep. I can’t stand sleeping in silence anymore.”

  “And now your laptop is gone,” Dylan says, completing my sentence. He thinks about that for a long time while I wait for a response. “Has this been an issue since your parents died?” he finally says.

  “It always comes back to that,” I say.

  Dylan stills behind me until all I can hear is his breathing. “Come on,” he says, standing straight again. He pulls the sleeping bag away and folds it back into a small ball.

  “Where are we going?” I pick up my tripod and collapse it down until it fits in my backpack.

  “Back to the campground. First things first, you need a nap.”

  I fall asleep on the ride back, and Dylan parks the bus again. I’m thankful for the fact that I never got around to remaking the bed. I kick my shoes off and crawl back under the covers.

  I’m not sure how long I sleep, but I can hear a few families talking with kids playing nearby when I wake up again. Even better is the smell of someone cooking on a grill. When I find my phone in a mess of sheets, it’s 1:32 p.m.

  I open the door to the bus and Dylan is standing at the picnic table with my portable grill, making burgers.

  “Lunch?” I ask, walking up behind him.

  He turns and smiles when he sees me.

  “Look who’s finally awake,” he says. When I come up beside him, he wraps an arm around me, kissing the top of my head. I close my eyes and wonder exactly how I got into this situation where I’m out here camping with a guy who seems to care more about me than I ever thought possible.

  “How long was I out?” I ask.

  “I’d say five or six hours if you want to count sleeping on the car ride back.”

  “I’m sorry,” I say.

  “No worries. I was doing some work on my laptop while you were out. I figured you’d wake up soon, so I snuck into the bus to grab some things for lunch.”

  “You came into the bus while I was asleep?” I ask. I don’t remember hearing anything, and I’m usually a light sleeper.

  “Yeah. You hadn’t moved since I last left you,” Dylan says, laughing a little. I cover my face with my hands, embarrassed, but Dylan just keeps holding me to his side, unaware. “You didn’t sleep much last night then?”

  I shake my head. “No, it might have been the least I’ve slept in…” I think about it for a minute. “Well, that’s probably the worst I’ve ever slept.”

  “So, a bad day for a sunrise hike,” Dylan says.

  “It was worth it,” I say because it was, especially before the exhaustion set in.

  I move to sit at the picnic table, facing Dylan while he stands to cook.

  “What did you want to do tonight?” he asks, referring to the bus.

  I bite my lip and look back at the bus, then the tent. And that’s the thing that gets me most, is that I don’t even know what would help me sleep at night. But sleeping alone in the bus is not working.

  “I don’t know,” I say.

  “Did you want me to sleep in the bus with you? I mean, sleeping in the tent together seems to work for you, but we only have one sleeping mat. I’m happy to let you use it, but it will still be less comfortable than the bus mattress.”

  I blush at the thought of Dylan and me in the bus together. I’m sure if Lori knew the suggestion was on the table, she’d be busting at the seams demanding I say yes. On the other hand, I know if my mom were here, she’d be freaking out, saying that I need to know him longer and do some sort of criminal background check first. But I’m pretty sure we bypassed that stage when we started going on a road trip together.

  “Or you can use my laptop at night to watch shows until you fall asleep,” he offers.

  I consider it for a moment. “I think I want to try sleeping without the laptop,” I say, knowing that’s true, but also knowing how long it’s been since I’ve had good sleep without a screen in the background.

  Dylan takes the burgers off the grill and places them on buns sitting on a paper plate. “It’s up to you,” he says.

  I take one of the burgers off the plate, and so does Dylan as he sits across from me at the table.

  “I’ll tell you tonight,” I say.

  Dylan raises an eyebrow at me, but lets it go.

  After lunch, we decide to go on a short hike near the campground with waterfalls so I can take photos. Part of me fears that even with Dylan
in the bus, I won’t be able to sleep after napping most of the day away, so I try to wear myself out. After the hike, Dylan brings his laptop out to work more, and I go for a run along some of the walking trails in the campground. By the time I’m done, and I’ve gone to shower, it’s starting to get dark, and Dylan has a fire set up with the picnic table pulled up close for seating.

  We stay out by the fire later than usual, and I can tell it’s Dylan who’s waiting for me to make the call to go to bed. Even at 11:30 p.m. I still feel wired, but Dylan is fading fast since he’s been up since 4 a.m.

  “Ready for bed?” I ask, standing up from the picnic table.

  Dylan leans back and rests his elbows on it. “Depends. Where am I sleeping tonight?” he asks.

  “You’ll be sleeping in the most luxurious spot in this campground. The back of a bus,” I say, my nervousness maybe making me a little too outgoing for this time of night.

  Dylan smiles and gets up, and I let that at least comfort me.

  “Let me get my backpack from the tent. I’ll meet you in there,” he says.

  I run over to the bus and quickly make up the bed, though it doesn’t take much. I never did get around to putting the table out today, so all I have to do is rearrange the blankets until they’re not balled-up. It’s not until Dylan is at the door of the bus that a part of me panics.

  “What?” Dylan says, waiting outside the bus because I’m blocking the doorway with a deer-in-headlights look.

  “Can I change quick?” I ask.

  I can tell he’s trying not to laugh at me, but he nods, and I close the door, trying to think through the panic. It’s not as if we haven’t been in close spaces together, or even that we haven’t slept together. When I crawled into his tent last time, we were both too tired to think about it, and now sleeping together feels like something new. I change quickly, putting on shorts and a sweatshirt before pushing the bus door open. Dylan’s missing when I do, but then I see him walking out from behind the tent.