Gage stands and dusts off the seat of his shorts. “Hey.” He smiles crookedly. “I feel like I haven’t seen you all week.”
I grin. “The campers kept you pretty busy, huh?”
“Yeah, definitely. So, when I noticed your car in the staff parking lot, I thought I’d check in with you about your plans for the weekend.”
“Oh.” I shrug. “Don’t really have any. I’m going to hang around the camp and relax. What about you?”
He runs his tongue over his lips, my eyes following the movement. “Well, I was wondering if you wanted to hang out a little. There’s a short hike Jake told me about that sounds fun. And you know you should always hike with a buddy for safety reasons, so.”
His bumbling invitation makes my stomach swoop. “You planning to get injured on this little hike?” I tease.
“Olivia,” he says with the perfect solemn intonation, “hiking injuries are never planned and rarely expected."
“In that case, how could I risk you dying alone in the Texas wilderness?”
“Annie would be pretty mad at you,” he says, straight-faced.
I shake my head, a small smile creeping across my lips. “Can’t have that.”
“Nope,” he says, popping the P at the end of the word.
“I’m in.”
His face lights up. “Cool. I’ll meet you at the mess hall at eight tomorrow morning? We can grab some breakfast and then go.”
“Yeah,” I agree. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go in my cabin to shower and collapse in my bunk to try to recover from this week.”
He chuckles. “Same, honestly.”
I poke his arm, widening my eyes comically. “You’realsogoing to come into my cabin to shower and collapse in my bunk?”
Gage clicks his tongue. “If wishing made it so.”
His lips curve up into a deliciously wicked smile that makes my face heat, and my legs go a little wobbly.
How easily he can still make me swoon is worrisome, but my heart hasn’t felt so alive in years.
“Good night, Gage,” I say pointedly.
“Night, Olivia.”
After breakfast Saturday morning, Gage leads me to a little trailhead off to the right of the lake. It’s a flat four-mile loop that follows the path of a small creek near the camp.
Gage looks all kinds of attractive. His navy-blue walking shorts hit him at mid-thigh, exposing the way his quads flex and stretch with each step. He’s wearing a beige cotton T-shirt that stretches across his chest and clings to the curves of his biceps. His signature black baseball hat sits backward on top of his head, like normal. The only complaint I have is that his dark, sporty sunglasses cover up his brilliant blue eyes.
Like me, he carries a water bottle, though his hangs from a strap he throws over his shoulder like a purse, and I have mine tucked away in a backpack big enough to hold a few essentials.
The morning air is cool and dry, and sunshine filters through the leaves around us as we walk. I close my eyes to bask in the warmth on my face and the satisfying burning sensation in my leg muscles.
We don’t talk, but it’s an amicable silence as we trek down the path, the trickle of water running over rocks in the creek the loudest sound.
At the halfway point, we stop for a brief rest.
“This is nice,” Gage says, breaking the quiet.
“Yeah.” I smile at him. “I’ll be honest, I didn’t know you were capable of going that long without talking.”
“Oh, ha ha,” he mutters. “I can be quiet when I want to be.”
