Page 69 of The False Flat

We couldn’t stay like this. I moved out of his grip, turned, and smiled back at him, pulling off my helmet. And then I reached down to unlace my expensive running shoes—shoes I never should’ve worn to a color ride. I pulled them off and tossed them on the pavement beside me.

His eyebrows arched, amusement tucked into his half smile. Then I ran, my socked feet leaving the trail and heading into the wooded area just on the other side of the road.

Water splashed into my face. A spa, he’d said. And that was how it felt. Arms outstretched, head held high, I brought my feet down in the oversaturated mud, brown water flying up on either side of my legs, my white leggings a human canvas. I’d needed to be away from Grant, but also, I was free.

It felt good—until my foot slid on a patch of bare dirt that had turned into a mini mudslide, and I coasted to the ground, laughing like a maniac in my own personal mud bath, surrounded by tall deciduous trees whose leaves were fighting the weather to stay attached.

He dropped down beside me. When I finally stopped laughing, I let my head fall back into the mud, but it wasn’t the ground. It was Grant’s lap.

Our eyes snapped together. A large raindrop fell from his mustache and hit my cheek.

“I don’t know what came over me.” I also didn’t know how I was able to speak with my head in his lap.

“That’s the best way to live. Not knowing what comes next.”

“Isn’t that the scariest way?”

“Not if you’re living in the moment, enjoying what’s right in front of you. The future can’t touch right now. Neither can the past.”

I shouldn’t have done what I did next, but I wasn’t thinking, which was the problem. I pushed up, threw my arms around his neck, and pulled his face to mine. I kissed him like the next moment didn’t matter. I kissed him now. Not was. Not will be. Now.

The cold droplets sizzled wildly when they hit the heat of my skin. I barely registered the rough prickle of his mustache against my face, because my focus was on the softness of his lips as they moved against my own. My pulse beat with the thud of the rain still popping around us.

When he pulled away, our eyes remained locked. His fingertips adjusted the hank of hair about to land in my left eye.

Then he swallowed, his eyes breaking from mine. He guided me up until I was sitting. I crossed my feet at my ankles and wrapped my arms around my legs.

Our moment was over, and I didn’t like the one that followed, the one where I had to pay for what I’d done.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

“Done exactly what I asked you to do?”

An awkward laugh fell out of my mouth. “You didn’t ask me to kiss you.”

He shifted in the mud, propping himself up on his arms.

“I like you—”

I stopped him before he could say “but.” “Why do you like me?” Like the kiss, I shouldn’t have asked it. But I wasn’t ready for this to be over. The cover of rain and mud made the whole scenario surreal, like I could do anything without consequence.

“You want a list? Okay.” His head rolled on his shoulders as if he was warming up for a sprint. Another man would’ve laughed the question off. Grant met it head on. “You’re funny. You’re easy, and not in the bad way. Being with you is like being alone, if that makes sense. You’re a little tough to crack, but I’ve found it’s been worth the effort. You’re kind, considerate . . .” He stuck his neck out. “Shall I keep going?”

I hoped the rain hid how much he’d affected me.

“You don’t really know me.”

“Don’t I? I know you like honey on your waffles instead of syrup, but not so much that it pools on your plate. I know you count the ice cubes in your glass even if you’re deep in conversation, and condensation seems to fascinate you beyond logical explanation. I know you love animals, even though you don’t want the responsibility of taking care of one yourself. I know you love Hulk, even though you pretend he’s annoying. I know you’re self-conscious about your hair. And you think you’re unlovable.”

I’d been watching him with rapt attention, but this last thing made me inhale sharply.

“How do I know all those things?” He read my face. “When you care about something, you pay attention. It’s impossible not to.”

His words knocked all the air out of my lungs.

On either side of me, I squished mud through my fingers. Was this just a Grant thing? It had to be. He probably knew these things about the lunch lady behind the counter at the meat ’n’ three. I said as much to him, and he chuckled, a low rumble that said, Of course I do.

“I don’t think I’m unlovable.” I felt more than saw the skepticism nestled into Grant’s brow as he looked at me. I shrugged. “Okay, maybe a little, but it’s mostly the other way around.”