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I desperately try to regain my footing and instead tumble face forward into his chest, knocking him backward. Luckily the man’s like a wall and grabs the tree and then grips my hand tighter. A quick blur of motion, it stops us both dead in our tracks.
I’m embarrassed and my cheeks heat with it, extricating myself from the way I’ve tangled us. But a glance back down the side of the mountain we’ve climbed and I’m thankful he was there awkward or not. Otherwise I’d be a heap at the bottom, probably with a broken ankle or worse.
“You okay?” He looks me over like I might still be injured.
“Yes. I’m sorry. Are you?” I brave looking at him and his dark blue eyes are studying me curiously.
“Yeah. What’s with the quick stop? A snake?” He looks down at the ground.
“A snake? What?” I tear my eyes away from him and start looking frantically around.
“No. I didn’t see one. I’m asking if you did.”
“No. I just lost my earbud when I was fixing my hair. I don’t know where it fell to.” I stop looking for snakes and start looking for the tiny expensive bud.
“Aren’t we supposed to be communing with nature? What are you listening to?” He admonishes me but he helps me look on the ground.
“I was listening to a book.”
“A book?”
“Yes. You’ve heard of them. I assume?”
He looks up at me, raising his brow as our eyes meet. “Smartass”
“Sometimes.” I shrug in return, giving him half a smile before I return to sorting through the dead pine needles and leaves. If there is a snake, this is probably how I find it.
“Here,” he announces before he leans over to pick up a small white bud out from under some leaves. He holds it out for me but when I go to take it he keeps it, holding it hostage. I look up at him and he smiles. “What book? Hemingway? Steinbeck?”
“No. We’re on vacation. Not in English Lit 101.”
“So what do you read on vacation?”
“Jane Austen.”
“Is that the same Jane you were referring to last night?”
“You don’t know who Jane Austen is?” I stare at him wide-eyed.
“If I don’t, then what?” He looks at me like it’s a challenge.
“Then I’m shocked. Haven’t you been attending any of your classes? How do you get out of college not knowing that?”
“I’ve heard the name, Madness, I’ve just never read anything.”
I skip over the fact that he’s still using the ridiculous name he decided to call me because I’m too shocked he’s never read Austen.
“Never? Not even in school?”
“No.”
“Wow. She’s usually assigned reading. I mean, she’s worth reading anytime but I don’t know how you made it out of school never reading her.”
“I probably read the summary to pass a test. With practice and games, I don’t have a lot of time to read old books. What does she write about?”
“What doesn’t she write about? Society, struggles, politics, what it’s like to be a woman, family dynamics, poverty, rising above your station, judgment and relationships, but most of all love.”
He’s staring at me like I’ve lost him, but he blinks at the last bit. “So love stories then?”
