by Mandi Lynn
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“Changing into shorts,” he says, walking back over to the bus and stepping in.
“Behind the tent?” I ask.
“It’s dark. No one saw anything. It’s not the easiest thing in the world to change in a tent, you know,” he says, pulling the door to the bus closed behind him.
The space feels more intimate once the door is closed. The fairy lights give us just enough light to see each other.
I crawl onto the bed and Dylan follows, sleeping on the side lined with cabinets while I get the side along the window.
“Can we switch?” I ask.
Dylan watches me, confused. “You sat down first; you don’t want that side?”
“I know.” I shake my head, trying to calm my nerves. “I don’t want to be close to the window. I don’t like to hear what’s going on outside.”
“That’s fine,” he says, moving to switch with me.
There’s not as much room in the bus as I had thought. I had shared the bed with Lori, but she’s petite, and, well… Dylan isn’t. Dylan is all shoulders and muscle, which is nothing to complain about, but it’s not something I considered when I thought about tonight’s sleeping arrangement.
Dylan takes his pillow and fluffs it a few times until he tucks it under his head, watching me. I’m still sitting up, the blanket pulled over my knees.
“You tired?” he asks.
“I wish I was,” I say, a nervous laugh edging my voice. I lean over to pull the plug on the fairy lights and lie down, unable to see exactly where he is. His hand reaches out until he finds mine. “What are you going to do at the end of all this?” I ask, my voice brave in the dark.
He’s quiet for so long I think that maybe he already fell asleep, but then he shifts.
“I don’t know. I want to finish hiking the Fourteeners in Colorado someday. Finish what my grandpa started, but that’s all I’ve got on my bucket list. Otherwise the chips will fall where they may.” His voice is slow, tired.
“What about New Hampshire?” I ask, daring myself to say the words.
I hear a low laugh. “Do you want me to?” he asks.
“No!” I say, voice too loud. “I mean yes, but—” I stop myself before I can say something worse.
He laughs again, squeezing my hand. “We’ll see what happens,” he says, finishing the conversation.
In the silence, all I can hear is our breathing. Dylan runs his thumb up and down my hand, lulling me into sleep. I try to focus on that movement, begging the anxiety not to weigh me down.
Chapter 24
I fall asleep quickly but wake up often, anxious and antsy, wanting to shift and move even though my mind is tired. Other times I wake up, and my body is tired, but my mind wants to think in circles. At some point, Dylan shifts in his sleep as well. He reaches his hand out until it finds my arm.
I’m not sure if the move is intentional or not, but I let the touch comfort me. He sleeps soundly, his soft, long breaths overpowering the sound of anything that might be going on outside the bus. When my mind finally tires, I fall into a sleep that doesn’t last long enough.
The sun shines into the bus and I roll over, forgetting that we’re in bed together until I’m practically on his chest. I’m half-asleep, barely aware of what I’m doing, but he pulls me closer. It’s his hand rubbing my back that pulls me into reality enough to realize it’s morning.
I lift my head until I can see him. Dylan’s staring at the ceiling of the bus, but when he feels my gaze, he glances down at me.
“How long have you been awake?” I ask, rubbing my eyes.
“Maybe a half hour or so. How did you sleep?”
I shrug my shoulders and roll back to my side of the bed until I’m lying on my back, looking up at the ceiling. “I slept more than the night before, but not by much.”
Dylan rolls over until he’s looking at me, elbow propping himself up.
“Why didn’t you wake me up?” he asks.
I glance over and he’s frowning. “Because you were sleeping,” I say.
Dylan keeps watching me like he’s waiting for me to say more, his eyebrow raised in anticipation.
“What?” I ask.
“I thought the whole point of me sleeping in here was so you could wake me up when you couldn’t sleep,” he says, the corner of his lips turned down.
“I thought it was so we could have an intense attraction to each other at a PG-13 level,” I say, a sad attempt at making a joke.
Dylan rolls closer and holds himself so he’s hovering over me, one hand on the pillow beside my head and the other just barely grazing over my bottom lip. I hold my breath when he comes close, my body electric and awake.
“We can do that at any time,” he says, holding my gaze. He brings his lips close to mine, but rather than kiss me, he grins and pulls away quickly, sitting up in the bed, leaning against the window.
I sit up quickly, smiling. “Well, that was a tease,” I mumble, brushing my fingers through my hair, knotted after so much tossing and turning.
“I didn’t want to distract you from today’s mission,” he says, stepping off the mattress and opening the door to the bus.
“And what’s that?” I ask.
“You’ll see. Get dressed. We’re going for a hike.”
Turns out Dylan’s mission is to tire me out so much during the day that I’ll be too exhausted to do anything but sleep at night. He doesn’t tell me where we are hiking or allow me to use the GPS on my phone to map the trail, so it will be a complete surprise for me. All I know is that we’re hiking Alum Cave Trail because I spotted the sign in the parking lot before Dylan could notice.
The trail is anything but boring. The terrain shifts constantly from a flat, clear path to rocky surfaces that edge along cliff faces.
“Trail sign ahead. Time to cover your eyes,” he says.
I sigh as he covers my eyes with his hand, wrapping his other hand around my waist to help guide me as we walk.
“Why can’t I just see the sign?” I ask. It’s the same thing he had done in the trailhead parking lot. I already saw one sign, but he didn’t want me to see another. He wanted to make the end a complete surprise, so he made it a mission to spot the trail signs before me and cover my eyes whenever we came up to them. “It’s not like I know much about the hikes in the area anyways. I have no idea what trails are what.”
“This is a trust exercise,” Dylan says, still keeping his hand over my eyes.
I walk blindly for a bit, leaning too heavily into him as he guides me. I stumble through the steps until he stops and drops his hand from my face so I can see.
“Am I allowed to look now?” I ask.
“Yes,” he says, leading the way again.
“You know, I really enjoy taking pictures of the trail signs,” I say.
“You can take photos on the way back.” He gives me a grin before turning away.
A series of stone steps stretch upward. The stairs lead through huge masses of rock, cutting directly through the mountain.
“Is this it?” I say when we reach the top of the steps and what I assume to be the summit. The trail flattens out, and there are even a few people sitting to eat and enjoy the view.
“Not yet,” he says, leading the way.
We walk along the edge of the mountain in a way I never have before. To my left is the mountain’s cliff face, and to my right, the ground drops out, leaving nothing but a view of the rolling mountains. The hike is long, but it doesn’t feel that way because of the views. Five miles in, the trail starts to flatten and we reach a small collection of cabins, but Dylan doesn’t slow. It’s when the buildings are out of sight again that he stops and walks over to me.
“Can’t I just see?” I ask, trying my best to make a face he can’t say no to. I think it works when Dyl
an closes the gap between us and takes my face lightly in his hands, kissing me.
“Just one more time,” he says, brushing his thumb across my cheek.
I release the breath I was holding as he moves to wrap his hand lightly across my eyes and uses his other hand to guide me. It’s not an efficient way to walk, that’s for sure. I’m blind, and Dylan’s balance is thrown off because he’s too worried about keeping my eyes covered. But eventually, after a few minutes of stumbling, he uncovers my eyes.
“Welcome to Myrtle Point,” he says.
The view is stunning. The surface in front of us is nothing but large rock, jutting out to the side like spears. People are sitting on the rocks, enjoying the view of the Smoky Mountains around them. You can see everything. Far off in the distance, white clouds roll in, getting caught between the peaks and valleys.
We stay at the summit for lunch, unpacking our food from our bags and soaking in the sun. When we make our descent downward, the hike goes much faster since I’m allowed to see the entire time. We get back to the trailhead around 3 p.m. and set up camp at a different campground than the last couple of nights. I start opening the pop-up of the bus while Dylan hooks up the water hose and electrical. I’m about to grab my shower things and a change of clothes when Dylan pokes his head into the bus.
“Walk with me?” he asks.
“I was just going to shower,” I say, holding up a bottle of shampoo.
“You might want to wait until after,” he says.
I put my stuff down and close the door to the bus before running to follow him. “Where are we going?” I ask.
“Swimming,” he says.
“I didn’t pack a swimsuit,” I say.
“Neither did I,” he says, grinning.
My brain spends a few seconds too long trying to understand, and then I know exactly what he’s talking about, blushing as soon as it dawns on me.
“We can’t go skinny-dipping,” I say, trying to whisper, but the words come out breathy and nervous.
“We’re not going skinny-dipping,” he says, mimicking my loud whisper, laughing as we walk.
“Then what are we doing?” I ask, following him when he picks up the pace. I can see the large lake that the campground sits around, and there’s a handful of people swimming, most of them kids accompanied by parents close to shore.
Dylan doesn’t say anything. He pauses at the edge of the water, kicking off his shoes before running into the water, fully dressed. Once he’s waist-deep, he dives into deeper water. I run up to the edge of the water, watching him as he pops out of the water a few feet away.
“You coming in or not?” he asks.
I turn and look at the others swimming off to the right. A few parents glance over, but otherwise they ignore us.
“I’m good,” I say. Dylan wades back to the edge of the water, his T-shirt clinging to his chest. I back away, afraid he’s going to drag me in.
“Don’t you trust me?” He reaches out a hand, but I step away.
“Not right now,” I say, putting a hand up to swat him away in case he steps closer.
“I won’t pull you in,” he says.
I stare at his hand for a few moments before I take it, and almost immediately, he bends down to pick me up until I’m off the ground. I’m not sure what shocks me first—the fact that he lifted me so easily, or the fact that he’s soaking wet, and now so am I.
I scream a little, the sound coming out automatically, and I close my mouth as soon as I’m aware of it. I glance over at the parents, who are watching us more carefully now.
“Dylan, put me down,” I mutter quickly.
“I said I wouldn’t pull you in,” he says, very matter-of-factly.
“Dylan!” I say, pushing against his chest.
“You might want to take your shoes off,” he says.
“Just put me down,” I say, trying to keep my voice down.
“I will in a minute,” he says, eyeballing the water. “But I’d prefer if you took your shoes off first. You probably don’t want to hike in wet shoes.” He takes a few steps into the water, and I hold onto him tighter, practically climbing onto his shoulders.
“Okay, okay, I’ll take them off!” He smiles and backs up a few steps so he’s standing on sand again. I kick my shoes off quickly, making sure they land in the dry sand next to Dylan’s. As soon as they hit the ground, Dylan walks into the water, taking me with him. He goes deep enough that I can feel the water hitting my legs.
“Ready?” he asks.
“No,” I say, right before he drops me in. I move to hold my nose, letting myself fall into the water, which is much colder than I expected. The shock is instant, and once my feet find ground, I cling to Dylan for warmth.
“Oh my God,” I say, grabbing his arm and trying to stand as straight as possible to get myself out of the water.
“It’s a little cold,” he says, wrapping his arm around my shoulder, rubbing his hand up and down for warmth.
I look down at my clothes, which are more form-fitting than they’ve ever been. I had been wearing a light pink, long-sleeve workout top, which is now just acting like a second skin, my neon green sports bra showing through the fabric. I burst out laughing, whether from the cold or how ridiculous I look.
“I’m sorry,” Dylan says, trying to hold back his own laugh. He watches me as I pull the pink shirt back and it suctions onto my skin again.
“I look a little ridiculous,” I say, attempting to pull the shirt away again, but failing. I shiver, and Dylan closes the distance, pulling me to him until my back is against his chest.
“You look fine,” he says, kissing the top of my head.
He lets go and swims out into the water, leaving me behind. I’ve never been one for swimming in lakes or beaches, but whenever I do, it’s never past waist deep. I walk out to follow him until I’m up to my ribs, but I stop, eyeing the beach.
“You’re not really a swimmer, are you?”
“No,” I say.
He smiles, finding my hand in the water and pulling me just a little deeper, just past the edge of my comfort zone. We swim for a little longer, and I never stray too far from Dylan. My body gets used to the water, and it’s more comfortable to keep my skin in the water than out. I dare to swim even further out until I’m shoulder deep. It feels like a tiny victory.
Dylan swims out deeper, pushing at those boundaries again until he’s treading water. He watches me as I follow, and when I reach out, he catches my hand and pulls me to him until our feet kick against each other.
“Looks like you’re a swimmer now,” he says.
I smile and Dylan kisses me quickly on the forehead before swimming back to shallow waters. As we get back to shore, our clothes weigh us down.
“We have to walk barefoot back to camp unless you want to get your shoes wet,” Dylan tells me, picking up his shoes from the sand.
“Let’s run back,” I say, making my final steps out of the water to be greeted by the cold evening air.
“You sure?” he asks, eyeing me.
I pick up my shoes and make a run for it. “Last one back makes dinner,” I call back.
It’s not a great feeling to run barefoot in a campground, even with all the calluses on my feet from hiking. I try to find grassy spots, but every now and then, there’s gravel that I have no choice but to run through, which leaves me cringing as I move as fast as possible.
I can hear Dylan swearing to himself as he follows, though he’s slower. I take pride in that.
I’m the first one to the campsite. I toss my shoes toward the bus and open the door. Dylan stumbles in behind me, a little more out of breath.
“Have you been walking on hot coals to train for this?” he says, putting a hand on the bus for balance while he brushes gravel off the bottom of his feet.
I laugh, reaching fo
r the pile of shower stuff I had left out. I grab it all, along with a pair of flip-flops, and turn toward Dylan.
“You can start making dinner after you shower,” I say, my words stopping short when I see he’s already gone ahead and started to undress, pulling his shirt off. I can feel my face turn red almost instantly and try to stop myself from staring, but I’m also conscious of how fit he is. I mean, of course he is. He hikes fourteen-thousand-foot mountains for fun. “Be back in a bit,” I say quickly before walking away.
I rush, and it’s the most rushed shower ever, but I want to call Lori before Dylan gets back to the campsite, and I’m banking on the fact that maybe he’ll want a long and hot shower after swimming in the cold water. It’s certainly what I want to do, but I also know Lori is chomping at the bit for an update.
I dry off and get dressed quickly, changing into sweatpants and a sweatshirt to warm up. When I step out of the girls’ bathroom, I walk by the boys’ and hear a shower still going. I give Lori a call, crossing my fingers she picks up.
“Hey, Marly! What’s up?” She answers on the second ring, and I start walking back to the campsite.
“You know how Dylan’s been staying with me the past couple of days?” We’ve been texting back and forth since he arrived, but she’s long overdue for a full update.
“Yes?” she says, her voice suspicious, edging on excited.
“I really like him,” I say, keeping my voice low. This isn’t news, I’ve liked him from day one, but it feels like a tiny revelation to admit it out loud to Lori. It’s not often when I admit I like a guy, and she knows it.
“Really?” Lori’s voice hitches in excitement.
I dive into everything that’s happened since I last talked to her, from Dylan sleeping in the bus to swimming. Lori is silent for most of the conversation, soaking it all in. I’m done talking by the time I get back to the campsite, and I wait for Lori’s response, but it takes her a few seconds to gather herself.
“Marly, I didn’t think you had it in you!”
“Lori approves?” I ask. It’s a question I used to always ask when I went out on dates with guys. She always let me know the good and dirty truth of what she thought. There’s never been a guy she didn’t dock a point for, but I always appreciated the hard truth, whether I was in the mood to hear it or not. Part of me wonders if I should bring up what Stacey said, but that seems like such a far-off worry now.