Her hand makes a large arc on my back, over and over in a soothing circle. If she keeps doing that, she can punch me whenever she likes. I might pretend to suffer an extra thirty seconds to revel in the rare, simple touch before I straighten and offer her a wobbly smile.
She’s a bit flustered, if the wide pupils are any indication.
“I’m sorry.”
“No dramas,” I say, stepping into stride with her as we restart our trek. “You can punch me anytime.”
Molly huffs a laugh, but I ignore her. Doug pauses periodically to film, and I follow suit, taking B-roll on my phone for bloopers, teasers on social media, and short-clip content.
I’m zooming in on the structure of a leaf when Molly whispers, “You can punch me anytime. Look at you flirting.” She hits my arm, and the camera jostles. “Good job!”
Ignoring her, I spin to find Sofía crouched down, her phone aimed at the ground.
“I am walking your way,” I call out. I would rather not be punched again today. “What did you find?”
“It’s a mushroom,” she murmurs, adjusting her phone to display the cluster of tiny blood-red caps jutting from the soil. “But if we’re being honest, I only found it because I was trying to catch my breath. This hike is a lot harder than it looked online.”
A sharp laugh rips out of me. “Regretting your choices, huh?”
“I’m running on fumes of sheer spite over him calling me ‘little lady,’ and I won’t let him win.”
With a tiny groan and a ragged breath, she pops up from the ground. She shuffles, and I hide my reaction as she accidentally decimates the mushrooms she admired. Oh, shit, she can’t know.
“Should we, um, do that PR thing?” I ask her, stumbling over the words while sending silent condolences to the fungi.
Rest in peace, little guy.
“Come here,” she demands. Her fingers intertwine with mine, and she scoots close. “Now take one step forward.”
The physical contact is enough to fire up my neurons, my heartbeat picking up speed as her body presses against mine.
With her other hand, she snaps a photo of us. She releases me but lingers close, nibbling on her lower lip while she taps on the screen before she flips it. It’s nothing more than my hiking boots, the vegetation, and our hands, but it’s suggestive.
She darkens the photo and adds a layer of texture, then uploads it. “That should do it.”
Hmm.
That was easier than expected.
“What if we let them finish the hike while we hang out in the car?” she asks when she spots the sharp incline on the path. “It has air-conditioning.”
“Tempting, but no.” I connect our arms, dragging her back to Molly and Doug. “You can do anything you set your mind to,” I say. “Even complete this hike.”
She peers up at me, searching. “You think that?”
Her footsteps stumble, but I hold her steady.
“No, Sofía. I don’tthinkyou can accomplish anything you dream, Iknowyou can. There’s a difference.”
“Never let her pick a hike again,” Molly groans, climbing back into the SUV after five hours of hiking, filming, crossing creeks, and one small stumble when Molly hit a patch of slick moss and landed flat on her ass.
“You love me,” Sofía replies. “I am the wind beneath your wings.”
“More like the thorn stuck in my ass.”
Sofía cackles. “Oh,please. You’re annoyed Doug laughed when you fell.”
“Well, yeah. You almost slipped, and Jett caught you. My husband screamed ‘I’ve got bad knees and a thousand-dollar camera’ and let me tumble.”
