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I give her the look of death and hold onto her hand tighter as we wait for a couple to cross and pass us.
I hold onto to her. “If I go down, you’re going with me.”
The water is very shallow, but it rushes over the rocks, polishing each one in its wake. The larger ones are slippery, but I manage to keep my balance and get across with minimal damage to my shoes.
“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Sasha pats my shoulder like I was a good dog.
“You got lucky,” I say, gruffly.
From here the trail widens, and we gradually start to ascend. The canyon walls are slopes of browns and greens.
“You can still see the effects of the wildfire that devastated Malibu a few years ago.” Sasha shakes her head sadly, scanning the area and stopping to take a few pictures.
“Yeah, but look at it now.” I run my hand over the tree branches that hang over the trail like a tunnel. “Everything that once was damaged is reborn again.”
“I can’t believe you’ve lived in L.A. this long and have never been to the Falls,” Sasha says.
I shrug. “I’ve been all over the world and I’ve seen many different places, but mostly from a plane or a bus. It was great in my twenties,” I sigh.
“And now?” she asks.
I stop in the middle of the trail and drink her in like I’m starving for water. “I want to enjoy what’s right in front of me.”
I can’t help but kiss her. The taste of peppermint invades my senses, and I let it pull me under. She keeps a hold on me long after I let go. I don’t remember the last time a kiss has consumed me as much as it does with her. Each time I thought the feeling would lessen, but it only grows stronger.
“I like being the first one to bring you here,” she says against my lips.
“Who broughtyouhere for the first time?” I ask.
“Mr. Collins.”
My eyes widen jokingly, and she sticks out her tongue giving me a shove.
“My eighth grade science teacher.”
“Wow, I think when I was in junior high we took a field trip to the Grand Canyon.”
“Well, that’s exciting. I’ve never been there.”
“A smelly bus with hard seats and listening to Ethan O’Rourke throw up into a paper bag is not what I would call exciting,” I say. “Plus, the Grand Canyon is just a big hole with a couple stores and hotels built around it.”
“Now you’ve ruined the Grand Canyon for me.”
“You’re welcome.”
We continue to walk up the trail. The terrain levels out, giving way to a clearing with a beautiful view of the surrounding mountains.
“What were you like in junior high?” I ask her.
She turns her head towards me and then back at the trail ahead of us. “I don’t know. Average, I guess.” She shrugs.
“I highly doubt you were average,” I tease. “Did you play sports? Were you a cheerleader? Stuff like that?” I prod her.
“None of those. Well, cheerleading when I was in high school, but eighth grade was,” she pauses looking up at the sky as if it will inspire her, “I don’t know, awkward I guess.”
She lifts her camera and takes a few photos of the surrounding mountains.
“It’s weird,” she says.
