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Wes decided we needed an adventure of our own on our last day of spring break while our parents are on a tequila-tasting excursion, and he’s supposedly leading us to a secluded beach. Based on the terrain to get there, it's secluded for a reason.
“Directions are things like ‘turn left at the tree with the big knot in it.’ Every time I ask where we’re going you say ‘down.’”
“That’s what he told me.” Wes grins over his shoulder.
“You’re strong enough to carry me out of here if I sprain an ankle, right? Because that feels like a strong possibility,” I say as the rock underneath me wobbles.
“We live in Denver. Don’t tell me you’ve never hiked before.”
“I hike plenty. On trails. I’m not sure we’re following a defined path here.” I duck under the tree branch Wes holds up for me.
“That’s why this place will be great. No one will be able to find it.”
“They might not be able to find us after we break our necks.” In addition to the rocky trail, or lack thereof, there’s a thick canopy of trees overhead, making it virtually impossible to tell the direction we’re going, or when we’ll pop out of this little forest.
“Come on. You’re an athlete. You’ll be fine.” Wes turns to help me off another rock, and once we’re on level ground we step out of the trees into a tiny cove. The proud smile on his face says it all.
The beach is circular, and narrow, tucked between the water and the trees. It’s so empty of people both in and out of the water that it feels almost undiscovered. And with the lack of people comes a lack of noise, meaning I can hear every bird, every wave, every leaf that rustles in the breeze. It’s like our own little oasis in the middle of a tourism mecca. I love it.
“Okay, you got me. The hike was worth it.” I take in the white sand, the nearly iridescent blue water.
“Come on.” Wes grabs my hand again and pulls me onto the beach. We make a little camp of towels and sit down to watch the waves as we snack on the fruit we brought from the hotel. Although the sun is hot the breeze reduces its intensity, warming my skin without making me sweat. I’m not a sunbather by nature, but this I could get used to.
The rhythmic crashing of the waves could lull me to sleep, if I wasn’t so preoccupied with the boy sitting next to me. It’s the first time we’ve been alone this whole trip, and the seclusion gives me the freedom to ogle Wes as long as I want. His washboard stomach gives me shivers despite the midday heat, and I have the overwhelming urge to touch them. But I don’t.
“Would you rather live on the beach or in the mountains?” Wes asks as we watch the tiny waves roll in.
“I like both.” I grab a handful of grapes and pass him a few.
“You have to pick.” He accepts them and leans back on his towel, propping himself on an elbow.
“I can’t. I like the sound of the beach but the view from the mountains.”
“That’s not how this works. You have to pick.” He pops a grape in his mouth.
“Fine. Mountains.”
“Why?” He pops in another grape.
“Fewer people.” My answer makes him laugh. “What about you?”
“Mountains.”
“Because?” I arch an eyebrow.
“There’s more to do,” he laughs. “Your turn.”
“Would you rather play for an East or West coast team?” I lean on my side and face him.
“You can’t ask that.”
“Why not?” I shove his chest. He doesn’t move.
“You can only ask questions that can be asked in return.”
“Then ask whichI’drather you play for.”
“Okay smartass,” he smirks, West coast. Closer to home.”
