But it was a bad idea. And if I’d been thinking about anything other than her, I would have known that, and I could have prevented this. But instead I’d let it come to this awkward crescendo, and now she was embarrassed. I mean, I was definitely embarrassed, too. But I could live with that.
I should have drawn the line hours ago. Or maybe even weeks ago, the first time we’d ever touched. And the fact that my resolve was softening so quickly after drawing the line was proof of how badly it was needed. I was doing the right thing.
“Sorry,” she said at first, looking at the ground. But I wanted her to look up at me and take it back; it wasn’t her fault, and I hoped she knew that.
“It’s fine,” I said, my voice cold. “I just … I told you I don’t date.”
“Yeah, I know,” she said, looking out over the cliffside and slipping her sunglasses back on. “It’s whatever. Let’s just go.”
She turned to start walking back down the way we’d come, but I put out a hand to stop her, careful not to actually touch her. She looked at me pointedly, and I knew she was glaring, even if I couldn’t see her eyes anymore.
“The route goes this way,” I said. “Through the valley. We can get some shade.” I also knew that the spot I’d picked out for our picnic was in that direction, though a picnic dinner now seemed possibly ill advised.
“Fine,” she said. “After you, then.”
I nodded and turned back in the direction we’d been headed, angling for a switchback that I knew descended the other side of the summit. I could hear Morgan following after me, but I forced myself to keep my eyes on the path ahead, not only because it was actually quite steep.
Once we got to the bottom of the switchback, the path met up with a small creek, which was bubbling away from the recent rain. Willow trees and purple loosestrife clustered around the water source, offering us a bit of respite from the midsummer sun, which was more than welcome, since it was still extremely warm.
I kept wanting to ask how Morgan was doing – offer her some water, maybe a refresh of her suncream – but she walked single file behind me, even when the path was big enough to accommodate us side by side. And I didn’t blame her.
I spent most of the walk mentally chastising myself for letting it get that far. I wasn’t stupid; I’d known there had been a flirty energy between us on the weekend away. Hell, I’d been admiring her on some level since the first time I’d seen her. And it felt nice, being attracted to someone again. Being interested.
I’d wanted it; participated willingly. Enthusiastically, even. But the moment she’d stepped in to let me kiss her – and there was no getting around it, that’s what had been happening – something in me had closed up shop. Out of business. Caution: do not enter. I hadn’t done it on purpose. But I also should have been able to see it coming.
I also, it turned out, really didn’t like her being mad at me. I could practically feel a hole being burned into the back of my head as we hiked, and I couldn’t bear the thought of enduring the drive home with her so hurt. So furious. And that would pale in comparison to the wrath I’d incur from Chloe if I didn’t manage to patch things over before the next time we were all together.
So just before I knew the trail would meet up with the road back to the car park, I veered off the path to find the spot I’d picked for our picnic.
“What are we doing?” she asked, pushing her sunglasses back onto her head. “Shouldn’t we get back? I don’t need a break. Plus, it’s almost eight, and I’m starving.”
There was an edge to her voice, like she was trying to one-up me. To prove that she could hang. But I ignored her, finding a fallen tree that spanned the creek; it seemed dry and sturdy enough, so I covered it with the picnic blanket I had in my bag.
“I’ve got food,” I said, extracting a baguette and holding it out to her. “It’s chicken and blue cheese with mustard and honey.”
She crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes. “Someone was paying attention the other week.”
I shrugged. “Do you want it or not?”
She didn’t move for a long moment, her lips pursed in thought. But she finally stepped towards me and took the sandwich from my hand, sitting next to me on the tree. I noticed she sat as far away as possible whilst still being on the blanket. She set the sandwich down between us and reached down to take off her trainers and socks, letting her feet dangle in the water instead of resting them on the rocks like I was doing. Then she picked up her baguette, unwrapped it from the paper, and took a massive bite.
“Look, Morgan,” I said, determined to clear the air, but she put up her hand between us.
“Don’t,” she said, her mouth full. She put down all but one finger, gesturing for me to wait, chewing a few times before swallowing hard. “Let’s just pretend it didn’t happen. I’m mortified enough without rehashing it, okay?”
I nodded, but I wasn’t convinced. I didn’t love that she seemed to think this was her responsibility to fix. Still, I couldn’t refuse the olive branch she was extending.
“If you say so,” I said.
“It can be water under the tree,” she said, gesturing at the stream below us, smiling even as she chewed. I couldn’t help but laugh, half in relief. I leaned over to untie my shoes so I could splash alongside her.
“Water under the tree then.”
* * *
It wasn’tall water under the tree for me, though. It sure seemed to be for Morgan; from the moment we agreed to put it behind us, she was mostly back to her bubbly self. There were fewer daring glances and definitely less touching, accidental or otherwise, but anyone else would struggle to believe that an hour earlier I’d effectively dumped cold water all over our friendship.
But I couldn’t stop thinking about it, and I surprised myself at how adamant I felt about taking her on more adventures and holding up my end of our bargain. She’d seemed to enjoy the hike, so maybe she’d like camping, too? Kayaking? Quad biking? Fishing? I hadn’t been fishing since I was a kid, but I was sure I could brush up if I needed to.
