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“Oh, hey . . . Theo!” I hold up a palm to Cameron and jog over to where Theo has now stopped.
“What’s up?” His breath fogs in the outdoor air, which sort of proves both of our points—it’s cold out and Cameron is insane.
“I maybe didn’t mention this workout to Morgan or Lily,” I say, my face twisting to match the burn attacking my cheeks. Theo’s mouth ticks up in a knowing grin and I open my mouth to explain more.To lie more.
“Brook, it’s fine. I don’t like people in my business either. I didn’t even see you,” he says, flattening his palm over his eyes. “See? Can’t see a thing.”
“Thank you,” I sigh.
He chuckles and spreads his fingers just enough to peek at me before spinning around and letting his hand fall into the front pocket of his hoodie.
“You were never here,” he says into the breeze.
The squeeze in my chest eases but flares up again when I turn back to face Cameron, who probably heard most of that. His brow furrowed in what I assume is confusion, I brace myself for him to ask me what that was all about. I’m relieved when he doesn’t.
“Come on, we have a bit of a hike in store for us,” he says, tilting his head toward the pathway that leads down to the riverwalk.
“I’m not smoking pot with you, Cameron,” I say, instantly digging in my heels. Of course, that’s his grand idea. I’m so stupid for thinking he’d have actual physical therapy plans.
I fold my arms around my chest, clutching my sides to lock myself into my stubborn stance as Cameron laughs under his breath, dropping his gym bag at his feet before closing the few feet of space between us. His stare meets mine, both of our mouths pulled into tight lines, and when his head leans to one side, mine leans to the other, like some childish body language battle of wills. He’s the first to break with a real laugh.
“I do not have some grand plan to get you high, Brooky. We’re just taking the trail to a spot where I can show you some things—things you can do on your own without me if you decide my moral compass is not worthy of your presence.”
His words are soaked in sarcasm and my eyes narrow a little with suspicion, but mostly I feel guilty for jumping to that conclusion. Cameron tugs my wrists until my grip loosens and my arm lock on my body breaks. He leans his head to the right and lifts a brow, sliding his hands down my wrists until our fingers are hooked. My pulse increasing, I breathe in deeply and look over his shoulder, mostly scanning to see if his usual crew of burnouts is anywhere around the water’s edge.
“Fine, but you can’t blame me for freaking out. You are known to—” I stop myself. Cameron lets go of one of my hands but holds on to the other, turning to lead me toward the path.
“I’m known for a lot of things. I get it. But I’m not a drug dealer, Brooky. I wouldn’t push my bad habits on you.” His hand keeps mine, his grip just strong enough to signal that he’d prefer not to let go, so I don’t try.
He bends over to snag his bag as we pass it before leading me around the back of the fieldhouse to the mulch pathway. The trail is narrow, forcing me to walk behind him, which is good because I don’t think I can look him in the eyes. Cameron’s never been anything but sweet to me. I think I simply feel the effects of lying to my friends.
We trek about two hundred yards, stopping where the pathway lights end and the walkway dips, wrapping around a wooded cliff maybe thirty feet high. Cameron lets go of my hand and I instantly hide it under my arm, hugging myself again. His gym bag falls to the ground, making a clanking noise. My mental wheels turn as he kneels and unzips his duffel, pulling out some bright yellow ropes and what I’m pretty sure are climbing harnesses.
“Ha,” I punch out, stepping back slowly and waving my hands in front of my body. “Oh, hell no!”
Cameron’s head falls forward as his shoulders shake with quiet laughter.
“Bet you wish we were getting high now,” he jokes, standing with the tangled rope system in his hands, metal clamps dangling every few linear feet.
“I wish I were in bed watching K-dramas on my phone if we’re being honest. Cameron! I’m not . . . whatever that contraption is meant to have me do. I’m not doing it.” I plant my feet in the brush and fold my arms over my chest tighter than before.
He sorts out the places where the rope has knotted, then unbuckles the first of two harnesses, approaching me with the caution of a dog catcher about to hook something that might be rabid. I lick my lips nervously and stare at the mesh apparatus with a million buckles.
“Do you trust me?”
My eyes flit to his at that question. Brow denting with enough force that I feel it on my skin, I suck in a breath. It’s strange that I know this in my gut, but yeah . . . I trust him.
I nod once, a tiny movement that makes him laugh.
“Would it help if I told you that doing this is worth about two days’ worth of that workout app list you were half-assing your way through yesterday?” He holds the harness in front of my waist and nods toward his right shoulder, urging me to use him for balance. I squeeze his shoulders with my palms, unable to ignore their size. How are they so round? So . . . hard? How is he wearing a T-shirt out here?
“I wasn’t half-assing. I was drag-assing. There’s a difference.”
Cameron’s head falls back with laughter. I playfully smack his right shoulder in response but tangle my foot in the harness as I do and end up gripping him harder. His hands move to my waist, squeezing to hold me steady, and his nose grazes my cheek in the exchange. The harness slides down my hips and we both freeze in place for a beat before Cameron steps back and scratches at the side of his head.
“Uh, sorry. I ran out of hands, I guess.” We make brief eye contact, his lips sucked in just like mine.
“If putting me in a harness is any indication of how successful rock climbing with me is going to be, we’re in trouble,” I say, working the harness back up the hips on my own.
