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Once we’re finished eating, Holden leads me in the opposite direction from which we came.
“The way back is shorter,” Holden tells me, sensing my silent question as the sun creeps directly overhead and then nearly disappears once we’re back in the woods.
It’s also downhill, which makes a big difference in our speed. The decline is challenging in its own way, sections of the trail shifting underfoot. But it’s much faster than the climb.
By the time the ground begins to even out flat again, I’m coated with sweat. Even though sunrays aren’t reaching us, the air temperature has risen. The muscles in my calves burn from remaining tense and ready to react to the changing topography. My neck is stiff from constantly looking around and down, keeping track of the surroundings.
And despite it all, I’m in a better mood than I can recall experiencing in a long time.
We’re rarely alone, just the two of us.
Whether it’s in Pembrooke or on campus at Richmond, there’s usually a rotating door of people around us. His friends. My family. Sydney. Roommates. Other students. Even if we go out to dinner together, chances are one or both of us will run into someone we know. Someone in my family is always home, and his aunt Catherine’s schedule is unpredictable.
Today feels special. Sacred.
Every possible distraction has been stripped away. We don’t even have cell service. Which is stressful, considering all the catastrophes that could take place. But also a reminder I trust Holden with my safety—with mylife—even if I’m disappointed when he doesn’t text me. That big feelings matter too, not just small moments.
I notice the sand first.
It mixes with the brown earth gradually, then turns to light gray as soon as we break through the tree line. My steps slow as my sneakers sink into softer ground, glancing around at the sudden shift in scenery. Instead of tree trunks and leaves, there are shells and pebbles mixed in with the sand. The soundtrack of bird calls and snapping sticks is now waves crashing into the shore.
“This was my dad’s favorite spot,” Holden tells me.
“Oh,” I say.
I never bring his dad up, and Holden rarely does.
He’s been gone for almost four years, but the loss feels fresh and raw.
It was so sudden. So shocking. So…final.
The beach is more crowded than anywhere else we’ve hiked. A parking lot is visible on the far side, so some people must avoid the camping experience and drive here just to come to this spot.
There are several families who’ve staked out spaces in the sand, the piles of toys and chairs and coolers way more than anyone could carry via the route we just came. I’m carrying nothing, and I’m exhausted.
“Come on.” Holden grabs my hand, our fingers twining together naturally as he tugs me closer to the water. A jolt of awareness trickles through me from the casual touch.
About a dozen feet from the ocean’s edge, Holden drops my hand and his backpack. His sneakers get tossed too, then his shirt, leaving him standing in his swim trunks.
I just stare.
Holden grins, catching me checking him out.
He’s always been in good shape from basketball. But now it looks like his muscles have sharpened, strong ropes of sinew lining his shoulders and arms. His abs are more defined, hard, stacked ridges with no sign of softness or fat.
“I, um, that camp took training seriously.”
I’m not completely aware of what’s coming out of my mouth. I just feel like I need to saysomething, rather than continuing to ogle him silently.
He laughs, and I smile automatically at the sound. “Most guys went out at night. I hit the gym.”
“Why didn’t you go out?”
“Was in a shitty mood and wasn’t much fun to be around.”
I nod slowly. Happiness probably isn’t how I should be feeling, but I don’t hate hearing his summer was as crappy as mine. And decide to offer up a little of my own misery in return.
“Sally renamed our family as the seven elves last week. I got Mopey, who doesn’t even exist. I think she meant Dopey, who isn’t much of an improvement.”
