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This was going to be a dream come true.
A notification pulled down over my Instagram feed, JoAnn’s name appearing.
JoAnn: We need to talk about the change. I noticed the wedding gowns are taking off on your feed. Zoom meeting? Monday?
I took a deep breath and responded, trying to sound as professional as possible. This was the woman making it all possible.
Ophelia: I can’t on Monday. Carter is flying out Sunday for a week, so I made plans with a friend. Does Tuesday work?
Those small little dots danced, then stopped, and started dancing again.
JoAnn: Tuesday works better for me, actually! Noon?
I caught my breath. Phew.
Ophelia: Works great. Talk to you then.
With a smile on my face, I closed the screen and set my phone down on the table. I could hear the faint click of Carter’s camera, the sound no longer filling me with anxiety but hope and excitement. I couldn't believe this was all happening.
This is happening.
On Monday, at exactly 10:00 a.m., Clay pulled up in Milo’s truck. I grabbed my bag and ran outside, not even giving him a chance to come to the door. Not that he didn’t try. He was dressed in simple jeans and a gray t-shirt with black laced boots that hung out of his jeans as he walked toward me, coffee in hand.
“Okay, so by the way you are dressed, I take it we aren't going on a hike?” I asked, taking the coffee from his hand.
“A hike? Phe, I know you would hate me if I took you on a long hike,” he said, placing his hand on my back to lead me toward the car. He opened the car door and held it open for me, catching my eye as I stepped through. “Just trust me, okay? This is going to be great.” He shut the car door gently and wiggled his eyebrows before walking around the hood of the truck and climbing into the driver's side. “Here, I’ll even let you pick the music,” he added, handing me his phone.
“Oh, you’ll regret that,” I mumbled with a smile, instantly opening up his Spotify to Chord Overstreet.
“I highly doubt that.” He smiled as he started the truck, shifting the engine in drive and hitting the gas, pulling us off onto the street and on our way.
Almost an hour later, filled with calming music and no more explanation from Clay, we pulled up on a side road, and Clay killed the engine. He pulled out a piece of paper from the middle console and began to look around the truck. I followed suit, taking in the beautiful green scenery around me, but my mind began to wander. Madeline told me about when Milo blindfolded her for their first official date and how she made the comment that he was going to kill her. My mind went exactly there, but instead of saying anything, I inhaled sharply, held my breath, and turned to look at Clay.
“We have to walk now, about fifteen minutes west,” he mumbled, leaning on his side to shove the now-folded paper in his pocket.
“Ah,” I sighed. “Hence the tennis shoes.”
“I’m glad to see you followed my request.” Opening the truck door, he literally hopped out of the seat. His hair flopped once he hit the ground, which let’s face it, for him wasn't far at all, and then he walked over to me, offering his hand as I climbed from the truck.
“You can thank Madeline, now—” I gripped his hand tighter, loving the feel of his palm in mine. What was it about holding someone's hand that gave you all the jitters and shocks that trailed up your arm? “Are you going to tell me what we are doing? Because I gotta admit. . .”
“It seems like I’m gonna kill you? Madeline told you the blindfold story, huh? Milo told me that too, but trust me, this is so much better than driving around in circles to get your date lost before going to Powell’s.”
“That was sweet. He gave her the perfect day.”
“And…” He took one step and turned his body to face me. Walking backward, he still held onto my hand. “If you stop wondering what's going on, you’re going to have a blast. Trust—”
“Trust you. I got it. Just wish I had more information, is all.”
Clay squeezed my hand and chuckled. “We’re almost there.”
I watched him as he moved forward, a look of excitement on his face. His strides were getting quicker as our feet crunched the dirt road below, the sun beating down on him through the trees. Clay wasn’t focused on the surrounding scenery. He was focused on what was directly in front of him. He was a man on a mission, every now and then he would glance over at me from the corner of his eyes, his soft smile growing larger every time our eyes met. My brain started to float through the motions, simply enjoying my hand in his, my body inching a little closer with each step. I pushed back some curls with my free hand and looked at the sneakers on my feet.
“I think we’re here.”
Clay’s voice pulled me from the ground and to the scene in front of us. A group of people were standing around a bridge with an open side, a large truck with a trailer on the other side of the bridge. And on the side of the truck in large, red letters were two words I never thought I’d see.
Portland Bungee.
