Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

Henry

I PICK ALEX UP while the sun is still chasing the deep navy of night out of the horizon. Even in spring, crisp, cool air slaps me awake while I sit in my car in his parents' driveway waiting for him. It only takes a second for him to appear, a backpack slung over one shoulder. He's wearing jeans and a loud T-shirt with a cartoon character on it. The shirt is a little too big, and the baseball cap on his head is faded by sun and time. It's the least put-together he's looked in all his time here — and the best. There's something more real about it. When he slides into my car, this dressed down, messy version of Alex is terrifyingly tangible.

"Hey, thanks for the ride," he says.

I do my best to remember why I'm awake and driving this early on a Saturday.

The moment I back out of the driveway, Alex slumps in the passenger seat as though draining of tension. I swing past a coffee stand on our way out of town, and we both get a pick-me-up. Then I hit the highway. We don't drive far, but when we texted about this, we agreed to avoid the main trail in town, the one that actually goes to Tripp Lake. On a nice Saturday in spring, it'll be absolutely mobbed with folks coming in from Seattle. Instead, we drive a short way and park on the side of the road beside a lesser-known trail.

The moment we step out of the car, Alex takes a huge breath. It's like he's breathing for the first time in his life. When he exhales, his shoulders sink away from his ears. The sun has climbed high enough to streak the sky in slashes of blushing orange and pink, and the light all but glows in his warm skin. When he turns to see if I'm ready, his faint smile punches me in the chest, knocking the wind out of me. I manage to nod, I think, and grab my backpack before following him onto the trail.

It starts as little more than a dirt path veering away from the road. Within seconds, thick, tall Pacific Northwest trees close in around us, cutting off the noise of the highway. The morning darkens once more beneath the tangled canopy, but deeper light in reds and oranges pokes through. Birds titter as the forest wakes up around us, their songs heralding a warm, lovely day.

The trail curls, starting to switchback uphill. It's tough finding a hiking trail that doesn't come with an elevation gain around here, but neither of us seem to mind. We keep our feet moving, taking the trail at a leisurely pace. Alex keeps looking around, his eyes never still as we pass towering tree trunks and cross trickling streams bumping their ways downhill.

"Must have been a pretty mild winter," he remarks idly.

"What makes you say that?" It was, but I don't know how he'd know that from looking at some trees. We didn't even get snow this year, just a few months of rain and temperatures that never truly dipped below freezing.

"The trees," Alex says. "All of the foliage. It's about two weeks past where I thought it would be this time of year. Everything bloomed early."

"You know that from walking through the forest?"

"Sure. The trees are right here. You just have to stop and notice what's around you."

"I think I could spend all day staring at the same tree and not notice what you did," I say. "You must have learned that somewhere. Do you read about trees in your spare time or something?"

I'm joking, but Alex says, "Sort of. I mean, it's not the way it sounds. It's actually pretty interesting, I swear. Oh man, reading books about trees sounds like the most boring hobby on the planet. I went to school for it. I majored in environmental science."

That's right. He mentioned this at some point, but the last time this came up, he seemed upset about it, reluctant to elaborate. I take my opening while it exists.

"I thought you were a lawyer in San Francisco," I say.

Ahead of me on the path, Alex's shoulders stiffen. I instantly regret my question. All of the casual openness is gone. Alex may as well have slammed a door in my face. And just when I thought I spotted a crack in his defenses.

"I am," he says.

He doesn't elaborate, and I don't dare ask. The trail gets steeper, and we're too busy huffing for breath to have a casual conversation. We put our heads down and power uphill until we reach a place where the trees break, depositing us at the top of a hillside.

I drop my backpack onto the ground beside a rocky outcrop and pace toward the edge of the rise. Washington State unfurls beneath me like a bristling green carpet. It goes on for as far as I can see, lush hillsides tumbling into each other like waves frozen forever in mid-motion. Overhead, a brilliant, cloudless sky pours sunlight onto the landscape below. Birds flit by, flying at eye level, landing in nearby trees, clearly accustomed to the humans who reach the top of this trail dropping a few crumbs for them.

The only sound this high up is the wind and the birds. The highway is a distant scar far below. My own breaths come out harsh and loud as I attempt to calm them.

"This is gorgeous," Alex says. "God, I've missed this sight. You can even see the mountains today."

I follow his gaze to snowy crags looming in the distance. They look close, but I know that's deceptive. They're simply so huge that they distort distance. After living on the East Coast for four years, I couldn't wait to return to this sight. There's nothing over there like this, mountains that scratch the sky and claw the clouds straggling around them into ragged wisps.

"You're right," I say. "What a lucky day we got. Do you want to eat lunch up here?"

"Absolutely," Alex says. "I can't believe we have this place all to ourselves."

It's a lucky break, especially on a Saturday, but that's why we chose this trail. We were hoping most people would choose the more famous one, and it looks like we were right.

Alex and I grab our backpacks and find a patch of relatively flat stone shaded by a nearby tree. We can enjoy the view without getting blasted by the sun while we pull sandwiches and water bottles out of our packs.

"I have some cookies too," I say, placing a plastic baggie between us.

"Very healthy," Alex says.

I shrug. "We walked multiple miles uphill. Calories are more important than perfect nutrition."

"I wasn't complaining."

I go for a cookie, meaning to flaunt how much I don't care about the questionable nutritional value, but Alex must have the same idea, because when I reach for the bag, his hand is already there. We both jerk back at the touch, like the bumping of our fingers was a flint and steel crashing together to produce a spark.

"Sorry," Alex mutters.

I should say it's no problem or whatever, but my tongue is fumbling over the words. Instead I go back for the cookie, breaking it in half to offer him a piece. Alex takes it, and we distract ourselves with sugar and the stunning view. The silence stretches, but the awkwardness fades, until I realize I'm relaxing into the sound, or perhaps the lack of sound. There's nothing up here but the wind and the birds. No cars, no people, nothing but the strange hush that only lives at elevations like this.

"It's really nice up here," Alex says eventually. "I love it." His voice doesn't seem like an interruption in the quiet. He speaks softly, matching the tone of this pocket of serenity.

"I do too," I say. "It's peaceful."

"Peaceful." He turns the word over like it's a brand new concept for him. "I guess it is. Everything back down there feels kind of small and unimportant from here. Kinda makes you forget all the bullshit you should be worrying about."

His gaze drifts out over the hills rolling into the distance, the jagged mountains looming farther away, the sky stark with sunlight. Maybe it's the close-cropped hair and shadow of stubble, but Alex almost blends into the landscape before my eyes. He's a piece of this, seamlessly at home among the granite and dirt and trees. From this angle, it's hard to picture him in a suit and tie sitting in some office building in San Francisco. The image turns my mouth sour with its wrongness.

Yet when we're back down on the ground, he sneers nervously at everything around him. It's clear he has no love for Tripp Lake, but I'm starting to wonder if that's the fault of the town itself or something else that he's holding back from me, some burden he left at the bottom of this hiking trail. What could be weighing him down so much? My instinct to help rears up, but every time I start poking at the topic, Alex pulls away, and we've been having such a nice day out here. I don't want to scare him off with questions he doesn't feel like answering.

I don't realize that I've unconsciously leaned closer until Alex turns his head toward me. We both blink, surprised by the sudden proximity, but neither of us pull away. I'm so close he can probably count my freckles. My heart taps frantically at my throat. He isn't leaning away. Why isn't he leaning away? In fact, his lips lie gently parted, and my eyes remain fixed on them as a surprised inhale feathers across them.

I can taste his exhale, and that's too much temptation for me. I lean forward, moving slowly despite the frantic drumming pulsing in my neck. Alex doesn't move. I keep my eyes open, watching him as I tip forward. Still, he sits there waiting for me, until there's nowhere left to run, nowhere left to go. Our lips are separated by a single hair, then by nothing at all.

My eyes flutter shut at last. Maybe Alex's do too. I can't tell when I land against his firm mouth. The rest of the world disappears, the beautiful scenery subsumed by the warmth of the lips against mine. The pine trees fade beneath the spiciness of his aftershave, the cool breeze even cooler as it brushes suddenly flushed skin. I want to push closer, to taste and feel more of him, but Alex's mouth is indecisive against mine, neither pressing nor reeling away.

I don't linger long, as much as I want to. I don't actually know what he's thinking. Maybe my impulsive greed shocked him so much that he couldn't react at all. Maybe the anger and outrage is right around the corner. But if that's the case, why didn't he pull away? Why did he stay? Why is he staying even now?

Alex doesn't speak or move or react. He sits on that rock beside me and just looks at me, as unreadable as the stone beneath us. My heart dances around my chest, unsure where to land, what emotion to settle on when there are oh so many to choose from. Fear, elation, anxiety, joy. Everything hinges on Alex, and the longer he remains silent, the more the dread in the pit of my stomach swells.

I kissed a straight guy knowing full well that he's straight. What in the world was I thinking? I shouldn't be waiting for a reaction. This isn't a fairy tale. Of course he's angry. Of course he's disgusted. He wanted to go on a simple hike, and I turned it into something he never asked for.

In the end, it's me who reels away, startling up to my feet and slapping my hands over my mouth like I can hide what I've done.