Page 39 of The Golden Scoop

“Feels like a scam. Walk all the way up just to do the same thing on the way down. I could cry,” I complain.

“You can cry if you need to, Mills.”

“You won’t be saying that when you have to carry me up to wherever you’re taking me,” I say with a groan. “And don’t call me Mills.”

“You love it.”

I absolutely do not love it. I tolerate it.

Barely.

I forgot how much I hated this. We’ve been walking for forty-five minutes. I’m already panting, ready to turn back around and sit in the AC for the rest of the day. It’s so hot I can feel my skin tanning, and that’s with the five layers of sunscreen I slathered on.

I should’ve worn a shirt but ended up going with my matching sports bra and leggings combo. And every second under these rays feels like a personal attack for daring to try to look cute.

Matt’s wearing a white tank top and some black gym shorts. He’s already glistening with a thin layer of sweat, but he’s annoyingly happy.

“Did you put sunscreen on?” I ask, reapplying it on my face.

“I put on a normal amount,” he teases. “But I’ll let you rub some more on me if that’s what you really want to know.”

“I will not be doing any rubbing.”

“We’ll see…”

I’m so frustrated at the gravel path under my feet I don’t have the strength to bicker. Give me sports all day long. Surfing, basketball—surprisingly good given my height disadvantage—even football. But walking? I absolutely cannot. I’m being punished for crimes I don’t know I committed.

“Can we go back now?”

“I promise it’s worth it.”

I groan loudly, as if he’d just told me we’re going up Everest.

“Is this where you bring all the girls you’re trying to swoon?” I bicker. “You tire them out, then go back to theirs knowing they’ll be so exhausted you can sneak out without being noticed. Efficient, honestly.”

He laughs and raises an eyebrow.

“I could unpack that statement in so many ways,” he replies. “But not all. Only the ones with a chronic obsession with overalls who hate fresh air.”

“Says the book nerd,” I bite back. “Did you already forget about what we did yesterday?”

“Please, it barely counts as fresh air.”

“That’s because you couldn’t keep yourself above water long enough to breathe.”

He gives me an amused look, almost as if he was surprised my comeback was so fast. I would be if it were anyone else, but with him, it’s like I’m always locked and loaded. My brains skips the part where I’m supposed to think before speaking.

A few feet away, I spot a rock big enough to plop myself down on.

“I need a water break before I pass away and leave you carrying my lifeless body all the way down.”

Matt keeps pacing while I take the water out of my backpack and chug half of it. He comes to a stop at the edge of the trail; shoulders relaxed with the view in front of us. The higher we get, the better he looks. I wonder if it has something to do with the way the air feels cleaner, and the rustle of the trees.

“Would you like some?” I reluctantly ask, seeing as the only thing he’s carrying is himself. I don’t even know why I’m offering. He’s not Olivia. I don’t have to take care of him.

But Matt turns and nods. He must trust me more than I do him, because he takes it from my hands without questioning if I’ve poisoned it.

I’m not sure what I thought was going to happen when I asked, but it definitely wasn’t him bringing it to his lips. Where mine were and will be again. Great. Fantastic. Can’t he pour it from a distance like every other man?