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The memory of a few nights ago is vanishing from my mind. I'm sure whatever it is Adrian is dealing with will be okay since he is probably getting treatment for it.
I put my name down on the list, the butterflies in my stomach erupt into a frenzy. I have a spring in my step as I walk back to my cabin, the smile never leaving my face.
I’m in a good mood for the rest of the day, and Adrian is never far from my thoughts. I even end up socializing with a few guests, letting some of my fears and anxiety melt away in the process.
At the end of the day, after a quick shower, I crawl in between the sheets and pick up the book on my beside table.
But I’m thinking of Adrian as I try to read.
It’s his image I see when the hero is described. And instead of the windswept hair, the large coat ,and with a white see-through shirt, I picture a shirtless Adrian astride his horse.
His jeans hanging low on his hips, and his hat tipped in my direction. Sighing, I snap the book shut. The image of Adrian holding his hand out to me, giving me his mega-watt smile appears before me.
Why can’t I stop thinking about him? And why can’t I stay mad at him?
He still owes me answers about why he freaked out. And that’s when I remember the note he gave me. I jump up and reach for my shorts.
With trembling fingers, I unfold the letter and climb back into bed to read it. Slowly, I set the pressed flower down on the nightstand and hold the letter up to my face.
I can’t stop thinking about you. You’re my first thought in the morning, and my last thought every night.
I read and re-read the note, growing giddier and giddier with each passing minute.
Finally, when my eyelids grow too heavy, I press the flower back inside the note and tuck it into my nightstand drawer.
Then I bring my arms up over my head and sigh.
Sleep comes quickly, and all of my dreams are of Adrian.
In the morning I'm still giddy and breathless. After a quick shower and a quick bite, I reach for my fanny pack.
I am one of the last guests to join the hiking group, but when I glance around, I can’t spot Adrian anywhere.
I ignore the tight knot in my stomach and set off at a brusque pace, catching up to the instructor easily.
Why isn’t Adrian here?
Maybe he has work, or maybe he slept in. You’re not his keeper, Danielle. And you need to ease up a little.
I am sipping on my drink underneath the shade of a tree when I spot Adrian.
Rather than leading the group, he is trailing behind.
He has a backpack strapped on, a rather large pair of sunglasses that cover half his face, and a large baseball cap down to his ears.
He has both hands shoved into his pockets, and his head is lowered as if he's staring at something on his shoe.
The guests standing a few feet from him are talking. They don’t recognize him.
I don't blame them. Look at him. He looks rather different than his usual self with the long sleeved shirt and the loose jeans hanging on his waist.
I pretend to stretch my muscles and wait for him.
But he's walking far to the right, as if he's ready to leave the trail. What is he doing? Is he having a mental break down?
Frowning, I try to follow him with my eyes as the guests walk together in an orderly fashion. Adrian shifts to the left, just behind the last group.
I keep stopping and trying to figure out where he is and what he's doing.
