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Her head jerks up so fast that her hair hits mine and a drop of water flicks off my hair and onto her cheek. She wipes it away, flustered.

“I wasn’t—I mean, you just surprised me. People don’t usually answer the door half naked.”

“I didn’t answer the door,” I remind her. “You broke into my room like the Kool-Aid Man.”

“It was urgent,” she insists. “I wanted to ask you a favor.”

“I’m listening.”

Which is true, I am listening, but it seems like Felicity is…not. Her eyelids are drooping a little and her mouth looks like a fish hook got stuck in her lip and tugged it down.

“Are you good?” I ask.

“It’s just hard to focus a little when you’re naked.”

I snort. “I’m not naked, Felicity. I have boxers on.”

“Basically naked,” she mumbles, making eye contact with my belly button.

“Well, you could turn around so I can finish getting dressed.”

She hesitates but eventually turns to face the corner.

“No longer naked.” I lie back on the bed, my shins in line next to her lap, the fabric of my jeans brushing her bare thigh, and she doesn’t pull back. “Go right ahead with the news.”

“Okay, so—um—right.” She blinks at her phone as if the words might swim back into order. “Mystery guy. In the picture.”

“The guy I have no idea why we’re looking for, sure.”

“Right, him.” She fiddles with her case. “So, Ada was at this estate sale last night and she was fighting with this middle-aged guy over the same 2002 copy of Madden—”

“Because of course she was.”

“Right? Anyway, so she said they were haggling over it and she eventually let it go, but they got to talking and he mentioned that he was going to participate in some kind of new hiking challenge tomorrow morning where you go from the bottom of the mountain up to the top of the fire tower.”

I wait for a further explanation, and when she keeps giving me the “come on, catch up” look, I ask, “And this matters because…”

“Because she also said he looked the right age, skin tone, and height of the picture of Jersey Guy! So if he came back into town just for this hike then…”

“You want us to climb a mountain—”

“Well, I assumed we’d drive.”

“To meet some random middle-aged man who may or may not be this mystery guy we’re going after?”

“Precisely!” She claps and jumps up and down, and I know there is not a single cell in my body that’s willing to tell her no, no matter how bad of an idea it is.

***

I don’t know why I thought Felicity’s idea about the fire tower was going to be simple. I thought it was going to involve just driving up and parking in the nearest lot to check the guy out and potentially say hello. I don’t know why I expected the bare minimum when I found out within days of meeting this girl that she does nothing associated with the bare minimum.

I’m 90 percent sure she invited me here for my truck alone, considering her car would’ve gotten stuck after one divot in the beaten path, but I don’t mind it too much. After all, she’s next to me in the passenger seat, my truck filling with her sweet honey and vanilla scent, and she’s singing. Where else would I be?

Not to mention it’s one more distraction from work that I could use. Dad tried to stop me earlier today to talk, and I, once again, got out of it by shouting how I needed to use the bathroom. If I keep this up, they’re going to schedule me a colonoscopy soon.

After driving up the mountain and parking off a biking trail hidden behind the trees, we grab our backpacks filled with snacks and water (she is convinced it’s going to be a very long stakeout) as well as jackets to help protect us against the breeze at the top of the tower.

“Are you sure he’s not going to the top?”