“You smell like sawdust. Did you come from work?”
Jack smiled, and I got the sense he had noticed the sniffing but decided to ignore it. “I went home first. Trust me, if I’d come straight from work, there would be a lot more actual sawdust in my wake. But the smell does tend to linger.”
I smiled back, thankful for the save.
“You ready to go?”
I lifted my bag in answer. “Sure am.”
“Have fun you two,” Chloe said, and I looked back at her to find her smiling in a very strange and disconcerting way.
I followed Jack back out into the sunshine and to his car, which I recognised from the weekend before. It was a retro Land Rover Defender, with army-green paint on the lower half of the sides and a white top. The big black roof rack on top was empty today, but I imagined Jack used it regularly from what he’d said about his hobbies. I climbed into the passenger seat through the door Jack held open, nodding my thanks before he shut me in and moved around to his own side.
He offered me the auxiliary cable; the car was old enough that it didn’t have Bluetooth, I guessed. I plugged in my phone and chose a playlist I thought would be good, pressing shuffle; a Death Cab for Cutie song called “No Room in Frame” came on.
“Not this one,” Jack said, and it took me a moment to realise he was talking about the song. I looked up at him to see that he was pressed fully against the seat, his arms tense against the steering wheel. I skipped to the next track, and as Noah Kahan poured through the speakers, he visibly relaxed.Weird.I filed that one away for later speculation.
Happy with the music at last, Jack put the car in gear and turned out onto the A road. He had told me it would be nearly an hour until we got there, so I hung my arm out the window and let myself relax into the moment. The shopping centres and suburban estates gave way gradually to rolling hills and patchwork farmland, the lush greens of the grass and trees accented by pops of yellow gorse. I’d seen landscapes exactly like this hundreds of times in passing, but this was different. Maybe because I was here specifically to enjoy it, I noticed it in a way I never had before: the different types of hedgerows demarcating the farmland; the shadows cast over the fields by the tiny, fast-moving clouds; even the potholes in the road getting more and more prevalent as we got further out of town. And I looked over at Jack every now and then, admiring that view, too.
Before long, we found ourselves on terrifyingly tiny one-lane tracks, where the branches of trees we passed or from the hedges lining the road came dangerously close to scratching the car. The passing points were few and far between, and even then I doubted another car would be able to get through. Yes, we were essentially in a tank, and I had no doubt we’d come out literally on top if anything happened. But funnily enough, picturing those scenarios didn’t exactly make my grip on the door loosen as Jack barrelled down the roads, slowing only when we came to sharp bends or junctions. We only encountered another car once, and thankfully we were only a little ways past a passing point, so Jack reversed a hundred metres or so to let them squeeze through. And I knew it was a cliché even as it was happening, but when he put his hand on my seat and looked over his shoulder to reverse, I swooned a little.
Miraculously though, we made it to the car park without incident, and I jumped out of the car onto the ground, pulling the sweet, slightly manure-y country air deep into my lungs. Jack offered me a bottle of suncream, and I applied it as he shuffled things around in his backpack.
“I brought you a water bottle,” he said, holding it out to me. I took a sip and then handed it back, where it disappeared inside his bag again. If I’d had a competence kink, it would have been over for me then and there; he was clearly operating at Scout levels of preparation.
And then we were off, heading up a well-defined path that went straight up a hill. The gradual incline followed a ridge overlooking valleys on either side. I easily matched Jack’s pace as I walked behind him, to the point that I suspected he was shortening his gait considerably for my sake.
A long while later, just as I was wondering if our previous conversations were a fluke and the silence of the drive here would persist the whole hike, the trail opened up a bit wider, and Jack dropped back to walk next to me instead of in front of me.
“Thanks for suggesting this,” he said. “I haven’t hiked with anyone else in years.”
“Well, I need all the XP I can get before October, don’t I?”
“True,” he said, smiling softly. It was nice to see him so at ease; so in his element. “But I’m still grateful for the company.”
The scenery was beautiful, with views over the blue and green landscape for miles and miles around. Our steps fell into sync as we climbed the hill, which was now getting steeper and steeper. I intentionally dragged my heels as I walked, timing my inhales so the sound of my shoes in the gravel would mask my embarrassingly loud breathing. I wondered if continuing to talk would make it better or worse.
I asked about his family, so he told me about his parents, and how different they were, but how sometimes he would still catch them snogging in the kitchen like a couple of teenagers. About his sister Amy, whose most recent breakup was basically a non-event for everyone but their mother. And he brought up Chloe and Phil, too; I’d known they went way back, but I hadn’t realised just how close they’d been, and for how long.
Our fingers brushed against each other briefly a couple of times as we walked, setting sparks flying through my hand.
“What about your family?” he asked.
“Well, I don’t have a dad,” I said, pleasantly surprised at how unlaboured I sounded. “I was a donor baby. But Mum and I were always close. Until she decided a few years ago that life was too short and the world too big to stay in Bradford until she keeled over, so she went travelling. Now she’s even sold the house.”
“You’re northern?” Jack asked, his voice pitching up dramatically in surprise.
“I know, I don’t have the accent. Blame Cara. Her posh accent dulled the edges of mine.”
“It must be hard having your mum so far away,” he said. “So when you go home, where do you go?”
“That’s a great question. I’ll let you know when Mum gets back, if she actually does come back.”
“And no brothers or sisters? Grandparents? Wealthy, eccentric third cousins?”
I shook my head. “Not that I know of.”
“Wow. That must be so lonely. Your mum’s on the other side of the world, and now Cara’s moved away?”
