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Ro sighs dreamily. “I’ll just eat vicariously through you.”
I pop up and walk back over to the couch, picking up my phone. “Don’t you have to be at a class soon?”
“Not today. The instructor has the flu so she just emailed us an assignment. I’m going hiking with a weighted backpack instead. You should come with me.”
I scowl at her. “In this heat? No thanks.”
“Come on, Gia! Push yourself. It would help you, but also me. I really want to get to the next level with dancing.”
“But it’s literally hotter than hell out there,” I say, groaning. “If I’m out in the sun for several hours, I’ll be exhausted tonight and I’ll play like shit. I’m basically a vampire, except I love garlic.”
Ro gazes at me with her best puppy dog eyes. “One hour, that’s it. Give me one hour.”
Knowing I’m about to give in, I say, “Only if we get pedicures after.”
“Yes! Perfect, because I need one anyway.” She grabs her phone and sits down next to me on the couch. “We’ll rest for ten minutes and then go.”
“Ten whole minutes, huh?” I say wryly.
“Looks like our new hockey team lost last night,” Ro says. “But I heard the tickets are still completely impossible to get. Like a thousand bucks a seat. Who even wants to watch hockey?”
An image of Maverick grinning and dangling his banana split cherry in front of his lips pops into my mind.
“Why are you smiling like that?” Ro asks.
“I met the captain of the Saints playing poker one night. He’s actually a pretty nice guy. I’m hoping they win their next game.”
“You meet more famous people at poker tables than I do at shows. And they’re always men!”
I shrug. “Playing against someone isn’t really meeting them.”
“But you did meet the hockey guy? What’s his name?”
“Maverick Hagen.”
Ro’s eyes widen. “Oh, I’ve seen him on billboards. He’s hot.”
“He’s not bad,” I say nonchalantly.
She elbows me. “Wow, I am so convinced.”
“Hey, you want me to go climb a mountain with you or not?”
Ro rolls her eyes and says, “There are steep hills and cliffs, but no ginormous mountains, so stop making it sound like Everest. And it’s good for our booties. You want your hockey guy to check out your booty, don’t you?”
“We’re just friends.”
“Right, because why would you want a hot, successful guy as anything more than a friend? Ugh, how terrible.”
I give her a look and say, “I think I like you better when you’re planking.”
Ro buries her face in her phone just as a text alert sounds on my phone. When I look at it, I feel the same warmth I did last night when I saw Maverick watching me play poker.
Maverick: How’d you do last night?
I type out a response, Ro smirking beside me.
Me: Pretty good. Are you feeling any better today?
Maverick: I wouldn’t say better, but I am feeling more determined. And I’m sending a group text to the guys about skydiving.
Me: I should probably become a motivational speaker.
Maverick: Keep practicing on me. A local sports guy described me as “a has-been that never was” in his blog this morning.
Me: Because of one game?
Maverick: Sports guys are fickle creatures.
“Ready to roll?” Ro asks, popping up from the couch.
“Ready as I’ll ever be.”
I text Maverick back.
Me: My roommate convinced me to leave the apartment. We’re going hiking.
Maverick: Roommate?
Me: She’s a dancer who actually enjoys exercise. I enjoy Cocoa Puffs and naps. We’re yin and yang.
Maverick: Have fun. Text me later about when you want to hook up for breakfast and what casino you’ll be at.
Me: I will.
“I feel like we’re in a bad horror movie,” I tell Ro about an hour later, as we hike up a steep, rocky hill at Red Rock Canyon. “All we need is an RV that breaks down and an ax murderer. And also Satan, since it feels like hell here.”
“It’s gorgeous, though, right?”
“It really is.”
I’ve only ever driven past the Mars-like red rocks in this part of the country; this is the first time I’ve been this close to them. This place isn’t green and lush, but it has a unique beauty I can’t help liking.
“I need a water break,” I say, panting.
Ro turns around and comes back, shrugging off her weighted backpack and sitting down on a flat rock. She pats it and I go sit down next to her.
“Doing okay?” she asks me.
“Eh. I probably don’t need my outer layer of skin anyway. It melted off about a quarter of a mile that way.” I point in the direction behind us.
Ro laughs. “Sometimes you’re so serious and other times you crack me up. It reminds me of Mindy. She can be singing the ABCs one minute and telling me a dirty joke the next.”
The mention of her sister-in-law reminds me that our Sunday meal with her family is tomorrow.
