Chapter Twenty-Four

Post-Cruise Tour: Denali National Park

Cell service in Alaska was like Halley's Comet—it involved lots of waiting for a brief payoff. At least with the comet, you knew when it was coming.

The rest of Caleb's message said, We should talk when you get home. I didn't like how we ended things.

How he had ended things. Yeah, I didn't like that either, dude. But what did he mean? That he wished he hadn't broken up with me at all? Or that he'd done some self-reflection and was now properly sorry for making it a public spectacle?

Answering the first part was safer. I told him we'd had spotty service—which was true. My message didn't send until we reached the next small town. That reply didn't feel like enough, so I added that I hadn't forgotten about him. Even though I had. And I told him we were nearing Denali, then asked what he'd been up to.

That was casual, right? Something friends would ask? It didn't sound desperate or needy or boring.

My next text was to Jordan to tell her about Caleb's message. Her messages arrived sporadically, loading slowly, leaving me in suspense between each tiny bit of service.

Jordan: Sounds like C is the desperate one. But I want to know more about Tanner. Because the two of you look hot enough to melt that glacier. Spill.

Me: There's nothing to spill. We're getting along, that's all.

Jordan: And you're enjoying getting along with him.

I eyed him briefly.

Me: I guess so.

Jordan: Maybe instead of Khan and Kirk or Anakin and Obi-Wan, you're the opposites attract story. Han and Leia. Mulder and Scully.

Me: Enough about Tanner. What does Caleb want to talk about?? It could be Math Bowl, right?

Jordan: He specifically mentioned the breakup. That will definitely be part of the conversation.

My insides were tied in knots. I didn't know what I hoped Caleb would say. I wanted to talk to Tanner about it, except he hadn't removed his earbuds since Caleb had texted. That bothered me more than I wanted to admit.

Me: I miss you. Wish you were here.

Jordan: I miss you too. But no you don't, because then you wouldn't have gotten to know your Han. Love you.

I sighed and watched the highway. We were in the national park now, with sporadic small areas of development, but mostly just the road stretching endlessly. Eventually I lost all cell service and put in my earbuds, wishing I was sharing with Tanner again.

The lodge in Denali where we were staying had fancy wood cabins on a hill above a river. On the opposite bank, another row of mountains looked down on us, and in the distance, there was nothing but endless peaks.

Wooden boxes overflowed with bright flowers, and hewn log benches were strategically placed so you could admire the views. A central area held shops and a couple restaurants, along with a firepit. We were staying down the hill from the main lodge, and our room had heavy curtains to block out the light since Denali only had a few hours of darkness per night this close to the summer solstice.

It was beautiful, if you liked the whole rustic mountain vibe.

We got settled in time for dinner and went to one of the lodge restaurants, a casual place with a large patio.

"We should ask them how things are cooked," my mom said. "Make sure nothing touches shellfish."

"Yeah, S'more, it might be risky." Tanner's gaze met mine, and he raised an eyebrow.

I wasn't sure if he was teasing, and that hurt.

To prove something to him, and because I hadn't technically done anything new today, I ordered the caribou cheeseburger, staring directly at Tanner as I did it.

Then immediately second-guessed the decision. Look how well being adventurous with food had ended last time.

Caribou was basically a cow with antlers, right? Ketchup would hide any weird meat flavor. No antlers would be making an appearance at the table, so I could pretend it was normal. As long as I didn't think about eating one of Santa's pets.

Surely I wasn't allergic to caribou, too. Although it was possible there was a grand conspiracy among Alaska's wildlife to try to kill me. If it couldn't eat me like a bear, or charge me like a moose, it would poison me when I ate it.

"So, Savannah," said Mrs. Woods. "What are your plans for the rest of summer after we get home?"

Not what I had originally intended, that was for sure. Those breakup LEGOs were calling my name. I'd have a fleet of spaceships large enough to defeat the Borg by the time school started.

"Hanging out with Jordan. Volunteering at the Science Center. Preparing for Math Bowl. I might work on college applications or visit campuses nearby."

"You should go with Tanner. He needs to start thinking about that. And figure out what he wants to do."

Before I could say he's seventeen, he has plenty of time, Tanner said, "It doesn't matter. I'm not attending a four-year college, anyway."

"Since when, young man?" his dad asked as I stared at him.

"I'm going to be a personal trainer. Don't need a fancy degree." He was using the light, fake, unconcerned voice I now recognized as a lie or a cover.

Tanner had asked me to help him pick a college major when he had no intention of going? Or was this another show? He'd mentioned wanting to keep playing football and getting a scholarship and going wherever I went.

What was real?

I narrowed my eyes at him. He ignored me.

"Interesting," my mom said. "How did you choose that?"

He lifted a shoulder. "I can spend all day in the gym. Science is how much protein powder to add to your shake, and history is how many reps you did in your last session."

I watched his parents. Surely they would challenge him, ask more questions, dig deeper.

Mr. Woods frowned. "We'll discuss this later."

Tanner was saved by the food's arrival, but I kept studying him. He couldn't hide the hard edge to his jaw, despite the fact that he was extra loud through the meal, making jokes and chatting with the server. Presenting the fa?ade he wanted people to see, so no one got close enough to notice the good guy inside. The smart, thoughtful guy who chased down milkshakes and distracted me from my fears and believed I was worth more than a parking lot breakup.

What would our relationship have been like if I'd seen the truth sooner? Would we have competed, challenged each other, argued about everything? Or could we have become friends, looking forward to family events and enjoying each other's company?

As we finished dinner—thinking about Tanner had made me forget I was eating a weird burger—he was still fidgety, moving the salt and pepper shakers around, playing with his straw. Our parents wanted to return to the rooms, but Tanner was barely containing his pent-up energy.

"We're going to explore the grounds," I announced.

"Okay, just be careful," my mom said.

"You want to explore?" Tanner asked when we were alone.

"You looked like you needed to work off some energy."

"Oh." He studied me intently. "How could you tell?"

"I know you. Or I'm starting to."

His gaze on me had weight. There was so much I wanted to say and ask that I didn't know where to begin.

The sky was spitting light sprinkles, but breaks in the clouds showed blue skies and occasionally illuminated patches of mountain. We walked toward a wide, gray river rushing fast. Rows of pointy pine trees stood dark against a hill covered in a dozen shades of green. Boulders rested along the shore, then a rocky beach, and a trail led along the river.

It was dramatic and ethereal and the air was laced with magic.

I was walking too close to him. Our arms kept brushing. The backs of our hands. Each contact sent a shot of energy straight through me. Yet I couldn't move away. I was a magnet drawn to his North Pole. It must have been our proximity to the actual North Pole. That was the only explanation.

I peeked up at him.

Once the tension had eased from his posture and he no longer looked like he wanted to tackle someone, I nudged his arm with my elbow.

"So what was that at dinner, that personal trainer stuff?" I kept my voice light.

"I have a confession. I didn't really need your help with a college major." His voice was light, too.

"Excuse me?"

He lifted a shoulder. "I wanted to help you this week, but you were suspicious. I figured if I offered a trade, you'd be more likely to let me."

I stopped, planted my hands on my hips, and glared at him.

He stopped a few steps later and turned toward me. "Are you mad at me?"

I didn't know what to do with that. Was it sweet that he'd wanted to help? Yes. Even if it was because he'd felt sorry for me at the time. Was he right that I might not have been so willing to accept if I hadn't thought he needed something from me in return? Also yes.

Did I know him well enough now to suspect he wasn't being entirely honest?

One hundred percent.

"I am mad," I said. "But not that you asked for help or that you lied to me."

He blinked. "So what, then?"

"I'm mad at you." I stepped closer and poked his chest. "For hiding."

"Excuse me?"

I glared at him, inches from his face. "Oh, come on. You don't plan to go to college? There's nothing wrong with that or with being a personal trainer if it's truly what you want. But I don't think it is. What happened to playing football? To a sports scholarship? I think what you said at dinner was convenient because it conforms to their expectations. Expectations you accept even though you shouldn't."

"You're giving me too much credit, S'more." His voice tried and failed to capture a breezy tone. "Personal training sounds like the life. What other job would let me show up in workout clothes and pay me to improve my bench press weight?"

To keep him from walking away, I closed my hands gently around one forearm. "Listen to me, Tanner." I waited until he reluctantly met my gaze. "Even if you weren't serious, I was. I told you I would help. Do you want to know what I learned?"

"Please, enlighten me, since you know me so well." His head ducked, and he left his arm in my hands. His gray eyes held a challenge.

"I do know you." I was surprised to find I meant it. "That's why I think you should go to college, play football, and study physical education. Then you can teach PE and coach one day. There. What do you say to that?"

He froze. Opened his mouth. Shut it.

I gave his chest a gentle shove with both palms, letting my hands linger briefly. "Stop underestimating yourself. And stop letting others get away with it, too."

A strangely vulnerable expression crossed his face. "How did you…?"

My righteous indignation faded. I softened my voice. "I paid attention."

He ran a hand through his hair and looked away before meeting my gaze again, and his eyes were intense. "You…you're right, you do keep your word. And when you decide to do something, you put your whole heart into it. I've always admired that about you. You don't let anything stop you. Not even me."

A feeling like sparklers sizzled inside me.

His eyes drifted to the scenery over my head, a distant expression on his face. "I can picture it. Teaching kids about health and fitness and how to play sports."

"Ping-Pong and dancing and nutrition. Plus football," I said. "I bet with that major, you'd play games all the time and learn a bunch of sports and fitness stuff. Then you'd help kids learn to love being active and help them be healthy, and staying in shape would be like your job."

"You…" He blinked at me, his gaze heavy.

"If you want to skip college and be a trainer, do it." My voice was quiet now. "I know there's more to that job than hanging out with muscley dude bros and drinking protein shakes. But only do it if it's what you really want, what will make you happy. Not just what seems safe because you're afraid to dream bigger or because you're worried about what people might say."

A muscle jumped in his jaw, and I fought the urge to put my hand on his cheek and smooth away the tension. I clasped my hands in front of me instead.

"Or," I said, "put that craziness and energy and passion to use helping kids. Just maybe go easier on them at the Ping-Pong table."

He surged forward and grabbed my hands, prying them apart and squeezing. "I don't know what to say."

Now his full attention was on me, intense, eyes locked on mine, gray as the clouds. My breath caught in my throat. My grip tightened on his.

I swallowed hard. "Whatever. We made a deal. You helped me, I helped you." My voice was too high.

"Right. A deal."

"Why do you do it? Put on the show? Make jokes to deflect attention. You can tell me. It won't change my opinion of you."

He bit his lip, continuing to study my face. "Do you remember that history project in seventh grade?"

"The medieval one where you dressed as a knight for your presentation?"

"Yeah. I worked hard on that. I was proud of it, not just the outfit but the paper I wrote. And my parents barely noticed. They complimented yours. Talked about what my sisters had done at my age. So I decided, if I couldn't make them happy when I tried so hard, if I could never live up, I should take a different approach."

"The football and joking and wild stunts. Even though that makes them more disappointed? I've seen you this week. You love to make people happy. Doesn't that do the opposite?"

"If there was no way to please my parents, at least I could make everyone else happy. If I'm not trying, then failing doesn't hurt as bad. I hate conflict, but if it's not real conflict, then it's easier to deal with."

"Tanner…" I didn't know what to say. I wanted to hug him. I wanted to wrap him up in a cozy blanket and feed him chocolate. I wanted to tell him he wasn't disappointing to me. "You know…you don't have to make me laugh constantly to make me like you."

He was still holding my hands, and mere inches of space separated our faces. His thumb was rubbing absently across the back of my hand, and it was setting off explosions in my chest.

"S'more…" His head dipped toward mine.

My skin was on fire and my heart might burst. Invisible strings tugged me toward him. What would his lips feel like?

A dog barked nearby, shattering our bubble.

I let out a shaky breath and took a step back. My heart was racing. What had that been? Had Tanner seriously been wanting the same thing—to kiss me?

And why was I so disappointed that we'd been interrupted?

We kept walking, farther apart now like we were afraid of accidentally touching, even though my hand kept twitching with the urge to take his. But that was ridiculous. This whole evening was ridiculous. Surely it was nothing more than the magic of mountains under a summer sky.

We circled back to the central buildings, where a fire blazed in the large pit. Several people sat on logs holding long sticks with marshmallows. It was weird since the sky was still light, but with sunset at midnight, I supposed this was the only option unless you wanted sugar at three a.m.

"It's perfect," Tanner said. "S'mores with S'more."

Was his voice deeper than usual? Had that moment meant anything to him? Or had he just been surprised at the job stuff, and I was the only one of us reading more into it?

We found a table with a tray of graham crackers, chocolate, marshmallows, and sticks, and helped ourselves. Then we took the remaining log, which was barely long enough for two. Our thighs pressed close.

My stomach was an asteroid field, whirling and colliding. This wasn't much closer than we'd sat on the various bus rides, but that was before we had breathed the same air, studied each other up close. Before I'd realized all it would take to kiss him was a simple rise on my toes.

"I love a good s'more," Tanner said. "Plus, it's a fun word tosay."

"Is that why you call me that?"

"Um, because it's your name. S. Moore. Do you not like it? Ican stop."

"No, don't," I said too quickly, and his lips curved up. "I mean, it's not the worst nickname you've given me."

"It's a great nickname. S'mores mean summer and the outdoors and being with friends and campfires. They're crunchy on the outside but sweet and gooey on the inside, and they're delicious. They remind you of childhood and they make you smile. And they're addictive. Once you try one, you want more. It's right there in the name."

He had twisted to look at me. Flames gilded his profile and burnished his dark hair.

Air caught in my throat. Were we still talking about dessert? Why was that fire so hot? It could not be natural. They must have been burning something illegal.

"Now, I have an important question." Light flickered over hisface.

Why did he have to be so freakishly good-looking? I couldn't breathe, couldn't reply.

"Golden, brown, or crispy?" he asked.

"What?"

"The marshmallows." He motioned to the tray resting across our knees. "You should be an expert."

A wild laugh fought to escape my throat. I shoved it down and tried to focus on the question and not his lips, begging to be tasted instead of the sugar.

"Golden brown," I said. "Hot enough so the marshmallow melts the chocolate, but if you catch it on fire, you have to start over. You?"

He clicked his tongue. "Yet another way we disagree. Burnt, all the way."

"Because you genuinely like it that way, or because it's faster and easier, and getting it golden brown takes too much patience?"

He pressed his lips together, and his eyes twinkled.

"I knew it. Give me that." I took his stick from him so I held both, jammed a marshmallow on each one, and carefully hovered them at the right distance. "I'll convince you this is the best way."

"Or," he said, "we can burn them and eat them immediately."

I shook my head.

"When did you learn to make these supposedly perfect s'mores?"

"It's my name, right? Part of the job description." My voice didn't sound as breezy as I'd meant it to.

He waited.

I sighed. "That camping trip with my bio dad. He wasn't interested, but another family at the campsite taught me. I can't believe we've never made these on any of our family trips."

"Our parents haven't tried to take us camping yet."

"I think my mom knows it might traumatize me."

I checked the marshmallows.

They were on fire.

Tanner laughed, a deep rumble, like he suspected he was the reason I'd gotten distracted.

Face hot—from the fire, nothing else—I got two more and started over.

When they were perfect, I pulled them away and Tanner readied the other supplies, holding the graham crackers so I could slide the marshmallows between them.

We clicked them together. "Cheers."

He took a huge bite and groaned. "Okay, fine, you win. It's better when you can't taste charred sugar. I shouldn't have doubted you."

"I'm glad you acknowledge my brilliance."

"That's one thing I never doubted."

He held eye contact, until I felt marshmallow oozing onto my hand and looked away to take a bite.

Like he'd said, once you had one, you needed more, so I made two more marshmallows. The sun was finally beginning to set. When we finished, we left the fire circle and stopped at a low bank overlooking the river. The water was liquid mercury beneath a watercolor sky full of cotton candy clouds, and the mountains glowed.

It was bursting with the promise of something otherworldly.

We stood side by side with our arms brushing, but Tanner turned from the view and toward me, staying close.

He shifted and I angled myself toward him to meet his gaze. His eyes traced my face. Then his fingers followed, ghosting over my cheeks, down to my chin. He traced my lower lip with his thumb. I shivered.

He stepped closer, bending so when he spoke, his breath brushed my mouth.

"I really want to kiss you," he said.

I responded by rising onto my toes and kissing him first.