Page 44
And Ada’s, “WHEN DID WE DECIDE I WAS LEADING?”
Knox finally looks down at me, and that blush is back. Tiny watercolored splotches of pink and cherry red cross his freckled cheeks. His blond hair is askew from the wind and his shoulders are high.
“We’re either almost there or those two are just as lost as we are.”
I offer an “I think we’re almost there?” It’s more of a question than a statement.
I’m pretty sure we both know we’re going the wrong way, but I don’t mind. I like being lost with Knox.
We turn another corner…dead end. Another corner…another dead end.
The maze is mocking us at this point, corn shucks pointing at us and laughing. I keep waiting for someone to walk by, but it’s been just us since we heard Lawson and Ada yelling, and the previous sounds of chatter and laughter have slowly been drowned out, which means we have to be either going in circles or almost back at the front.
Knox blows out a breath and looks up at the towering walls. “Okay, this is getting embarrassing. Lottie’s gonna roast us for years.”
I hide a smile in my sweater-sleeve-covered hands. “Well, unless you’ve magically gained the ability to see through corn, we’re—”
Knox steps in front of me, his hands suddenly on either side of my shoulders, eyes squinting between me and the top of the corn like he’s weighing something in his mind. I can’t focus on anything he’s thinking beyond his touch against my skin.
“What are you—”
“I’ll lift you up.”
My heart does a somersault. “Up like…what? Onto a ladder you happen to keep in your back pocket?”
He gives me a look. “No, up as in…on my shoulders.”
Oh. OH.
“That’s—Knox, that’s—”
“Efficient,” he says, like he’s discussing grocery prices and not offering to pick me up and place me on his shoulders. “C’mon. You can see the paths from up there and tell me which way to go.”
He crouches slightly, hands coming to my waist before my brain has fully caught up. His palms are warm, sure, steady. Way steadier than I feel, which is like an overcooked noodle.
I place my hands on his shoulders out of instinct and hesitate for a moment. Not out of distrust or disinterest…it’s just that I don’t think Knox has lifted me up like this…maybe ever? If he has, it was when we were eleven years old and my metabolism could handle me eating two extra-large pizzas in a row as if they were just a glass of water.
“Are you sure you can—?”
He scoffs and pats his shoulder for emphasis. “Felicity, you weigh as much as a backpack. A very small one.”
I mean, I don’t, but okay. Before I can decide whether to be offended or flattered at the lie, he pulls my thighs his way and lifts. Effortless, like it’s nothing at all. Like I really am just a small backpack to him.
He tosses me around a little, as if he wants to prove just how easily he’s got me, bouncing me up and down before standing up with no effort. I realize he works with farm animals and heavy equipment all day long, lifting who knows how many pounds over his head, but oh my gosh…
Suddenly I’m eye level with the tassels at the tops of the corn stalks, hands gripping his hair to steady myself, his palms locked around my thighs.
My thighs and his hands…on my thighs.
“Okay?” Knox says, voice muffled from somewhere near my knees.
Somewhere behind the part of my mind that’s caught up in his touch, I recognize the one-worded question and squeak out a confirmative “Mm-hmm!”
“What do you see?”
What do I see? Can I see anything at all? I feel like my vision is just a blur, a shaky view of yellow corn stalks and orange leaves in the distance. There’s people laughing and talking, kids running around in circles. Rows and rows of pumpkins for sale far across the way, a group of Willow Creek workers in matching shirts directing people where to park, and a mom being dragged by her pigtailed daughter to hurry up for the apple-cider cotton candy. It’s all…out there.
And yet I can’t focus on a single thing beyond Knox’s thumb rubbing gentle, soft, slow circles high up on my thigh where my jeans crease.
