The Quit List: A Romantic Comedy, page 23
My body melts against his as he kisses me slowly, languidly, thoroughly, until I feel warmed from the inside out, and my legs tremble beneath me. He moves his hands from my face, dragging them down the sides of my body until they slide under my thighs and he lifts me. My legs wrap around his middle and he’s holding my weight.
He breaks the kiss for a moment, pulling back just far enough to look into my eyes, an expression of total wonder on his face. He goes on to press one short, soft kiss to my lips. Two. His hands tighten on my thighs and his mouth moves over mine again, picking up the tempo of the kiss and sending it from hot to scalding.
Freefalling, indeed… but with a parachute to catch me.
Safe and dangerous, all at once.
After the blissful kiss under the waterfall, Jax and I drag ourselves out of the water and lay in the sun to dry off for a while. My head rests on his chest and his arm is draped loosely around me, his fingertips drawing lazy circles on my arm and giving me shivers.
Neither of us say much, but it’s a comfortable, companionable, silence. We don’t have to speak to be in sync, and I love it.
Too soon, the sun is dipping low in the sky, smoothing along the horizon, and we’re on our way again.
I walk with a sense of peace and gratitude as we hike the last mile. What an amazing experience, and what a perfect person to share it with. I feel privileged that Jax let me into this part of his world.
Eventually, a small trail forks off to the left and Jax nods towards it. “Our site is just up there. You did it, Holly.”
Another few feet and we pop out in the most spectacular clearing.
“Woah.” My breath catches as I take in the lush scenery. We’re standing at the edge of a meadow full of wildflowers, the mountain landscape kissed pink by the rapidly setting sun. The gentle breeze is cool on my (probably) sunburned face (despite the six coats of sunscreen Jax insisted I apply). Somewhere in the distance, there’s the sound of running water.
It’s like a freaking screensaver.
“This is beautiful, Jax.”
I tear my eyes away from the view to look at him, and I find that he’s watching me. “I’m glad you like it. You want your surprise now or after we set up camp?”
I ponder this for a moment. Then, I remember that I’m trying to take things one step at a time. Enjoy the journey without sprinting for the destination.
“Later,” I tell him, and the corners of his eyes crinkle as he smiles.
We make surprisingly short work of setting up camp, pitching our two tents a few feet from each other. I was a little worried about sleeping on the ground, but it turns out that Jax also brought these cool mats that inflate to provide some semblance of comfort.
He unpacks the cooking supplies from his backpack—with a caution that the dehydrated mac n’ cheese we’re having for dinner is “well, edible”—before he takes out an insulated drink container and passes it to me.
“What is this?” I ask, twisting off the lid.
“Try it.”
I take a small sip of the thick, white liquid… and turn to Jax in total wonder. “What the—?”
“I wanted to be prepared in case you hated hiking and were in crisis mode.”
This freaking man, I tell you.
“How in the hecking heck did you get a McDonald’s milkshake up here?!”
He grins. “Let’s just say it required some forward thinking, a Yeti, and a lot of ice.”
“That’s…” Probably the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me. “Wow. Thank you, Jax. You’re pretty amazing, you know that?”
I wrap my arms around him in a fierce hug, and he immediately pulls me closer, holding me tight against him.
“Anytime, Hollywood,” he says into my hair as I bury my face against his chest and breathe him in. I can’t get enough of this kind, wonderful, completely unexpected man who has turned my life upside down.
“I’m so glad you brought me on this hike.”
“You’re always welcome to join me. Always.”
As he pulls back to look at me, I can tell by the expression on his face that everything in him means it. He’s enjoying every moment of this adventure together as much as I am.
35
JAX
“Oh, my gosh, Jax! Look!”
Holly clutches my arm, but instead of looking at where she’s telling me to look, I instead peek down at her.
After three days in the backcountry, her cheeks are red and wind-burned, her lips—devoid of their usual pink gloss—are chapped and dry, and (most of) her hair is arranged in a sloppy braid (the rest of it is flyaway wisps framing her head like a halo).
And dammit, she’s never been so beautiful as she is right now.
She catches my stare and puts her hands on her hips. “What?”
“Just curious whether you think you’re spying another Sasquatch, Hol.”
She narrows her eyes at me. “I hope not. One was quite enough, thank you very much.”
“Glad to hear it,” I say with a wink, and enjoy the way her cheeks redden as a result.
It’s hard to believe that the sun is now setting on our last full day of hiking. Tomorrow, we pack up and head back to the cabin.
I find I’m almost homesick. Which isn’t unusual—I tend to feel this way every time I’m leaving the backcountry. This is something else.
Before Holly, I’d head out into the wilderness on my own and feel like nothing was missing. I was content alone. Now that I’m out here with her, everything feels more vibrant, bright, and beautiful.
It’s been a wonderful few days. The two of us have fallen into the most natural, easy rhythm that’s both comfortable and exciting at once. Seeing a route I’ve walked so many times through Holly’s fresh eyes has renewed my excitement for what’s to come with guiding, while giving me a whole new appreciation for this beautiful part of the world. We’ve talked, laughed, cuddled and bantered together for three full days, and each morning, I wake up in my tent beyond excited to see her, to tackle the day together.
It’s undeniable that I’m falling for Holly. Hard and fast. No point in fighting it—it’s happening with a force I could never resist. Would never want to resist.
I don’t remember the last time I felt this good. And looking at her now, in the dim glow of the early sunset, with her eyes sparkling and her body language relaxed… she’s giving off an overall sparkle of warmth and happiness that confirms she’s loving this as much as I am.
Tomorrow, we go back to reality, but I don’t want to think about that right now. Don’t want to think that whatever this is between us could ever stop. If I know one thing for sure, it’s that, for me, this is so much more than just “kissing practice” .
Not that she needed any practice in the first place. Because kissing her (which I can confirm, we’ve been doing plenty of over the past few days) is unlike kissing anyone else. In fact, I don’t know how I’ll ever desire to kiss anyone else.
But what this all is for her, I’m not sure. For now, I want to focus on what’s left of today. Focus on being with her and feeling like we’re in our own world with nobody around for miles.
“Seriously, Jax, look! People!”
Holly’s words shake me from my unbelievably gooey thoughts and I whip my head up to look where she’s pointing.
Sure enough, there are a couple of hikers in the distance, coming our way. The first humans we’ve seen since we arrived in the wilderness.
Rick, currently on a rope leash attached to my backpack, makes a sudden and unexpected low growl in his throat.
“Shh,” I caution him. It’s so unlike him to growl, I’m surprised. From what I can see from here, the hikers don’t appear to be a threat. Rick ignores me and growls again. “Rick Astley, stop that!”
He does not stop that.
Holly frowns down at Rick, then turns worried brown eyes on me. “Should we be concerned?”
“I mean, it’s highly unlikely that they’re anything other than fellow backpackers.” I squint into the distance. “They probably just spooked Rick or something. I’m sure it’s fine.”
Of course, that’s when the screaming starts.
“Help!” one of them bellows, waving their arms as the other chants, “SOS! SOS! SOS!”
They don’t slow their pace, now heading our way and picking up speed.
“They’re in trouble.” Holly’s hand tightens on my arm and Rick growls again. “What should we do?!”
My first instinct is that they’re running from something, and I take a moment, take a deep breath, and think about our best move.
Being out in the wilderness on my own so often, I’ve come across my fair share of precarious situations. In those cases, time has always slowed around me as I channeled my inner calm. Now, I’m gratified to find that I’m calm as always as I step slightly in front of Holly and Rick.
While a part of me wants to walk out to meet (and maybe help) the pair running towards us, I don’t want to leave Holly alone. Besides, Rick is still acting like Michael Myers and Freddie Kruger are coming at us—I don’t think he’d take well to me striding over to a pair of horror-movie serial killers. So I cup my hands by my mouth as I call out to them, “Are you hurt?”
At this point, they’re close enough that I can make out their forms. It’s two men who—judging by the way they’re running—don’t appear to be injured. Physically, at least.
But they’re also wearing… helmets? And they’re holding large objects I can’t quite see yet, but they glint and shine in the setting sun.
What in the absolute hell?
“Save us!” one of them shouts.
Well. That’s ominous.
Though I can’t actually see anything chasing the men, I quickly unhook a couple of bear sprays from the back of my pack and pass one bottle to Holly, while grabbing the other for myself.
“Remember how to use this?” I ask as I step fully in front of her, shielding her from… exactly what, I’m not sure. The two helmet-wearing maniacs themselves? A charging bear? An actual sasquatch?
“I think so.” Holly’s voice is a little shaky.
“Remove the safety clip, check for wind direction…” My voice is quiet but firm as I recite the steps I taught her before we left the cabin.
That’s when I notice that the helmets the men are wearing are of the Viking variety. Complete with big-ass horns.
Not only that, but I can make out what the men are carrying now: swords.
Swords!
Rick growls again, and all I can think is that I’ve brought this beautiful, incredible woman to the mountains to die at the hands of madmen.
Then, one of them stops. Halting in his tracks so suddenly that the other one almost barrels right into him, like some kind of second-rate Bugs Bunny cartoon.
“Wait up, Phil,” the first one says. “I don’t think that’s Don and Steve.”
Don and Steve?
The Viking men have stopped about forty feet in front of us, and they peer at us curiously. Like we are the ones who are out of place out here, without Viking merch.
“We come in peace!” the bigger man yells, raising his sword above his head like he’s an actual Viking surrendering a battle. Good grief, he’s wearing a chainmail vest. I feel like we’ve hiked straight off the Earth and into The Twilight Zone. “Please don’t set your dog on us.” he says as they both walk forward at a normal pace this time.
I’m beyond baffled, and also a little irked, because they just scared the absolute hell out of all of us and haven’t given an explanation as to why they’re in the middle of nowhere in full-fledged HBO-drama-level costume.
“Mind telling us what the hell’s going on?” I say, my voice low and commanding. My finger’s still on the trigger of the bear spray. I’m not yet convinced that these men aren’t insane and I’ll be damned if I let Holly get in even a second of danger.
“I’m Phil,” Viking One says, then jerks a thumb at his buddy. They’re still standing an awkward distance away from us. “This here’s John. We were roleplaying a battle in the forest—Vikings versus King Harold’s army—and we got horribly lost. Don’t suppose you’ve stumbled upon a couple of guys dressed like the Enemy English?”
I blink, totally taken aback. “You were WHAT?”
Behind me, I hear a snuffling noise. I whirl around, worried that Holly’s crying or frightened. But she’s…
Doubled over, snorting with laughter.
“You were about to spray a couple of rogue LARPers,” she cackles, hands on her knees. Rick, apparently no longer seeing these goons as a threat, cheerfully licks Holly’s hand.
“Why isn’t anybody speaking English right now?!”
“They’re, like, roleplayers,” Holly explains. “It’s a whole thing. People dress up as characters and they might reenact historical events, like battles or whatever. Sometimes, it’s fantasy based. One of my colleagues is super into it.”
Dumbfounded does not even begin to cover what I’m feeling right now.
I turn back to look at Phil and John—AKA Tweedledee and Tweedledum—as they approach us slowly. Only then do I get the pleasure of noticing that Johnny Boy is wearing what appears to be very tight spandex leggings beneath his too-short chainmail.
“You’re out here… playing a game?” I narrow my eyes at them.
“Yes.” Phil nods nervously, tapping on his sword. “See? Plastic.”
“What in the actual fu—”
“Nice to meet you guys!” Holly pops her head out from behind me. “I’m Holly and this is Jax. Sorry you’re lost. You seem like you’re a long way from home.”
“A long way from sanity, more like,” I mutter as I collect Holly’s bear spray along with mine and tuck them into my backpack’s side pocket. The men are in full dress-up gear, aside from their New Balance shoes, and they don’t appear to have anything with them in the way of survival supplies. Or supplies of any kind.
After a very confusing few minutes of conversation with Phil and John the Vikings, we finally determine that they entered a trailhead miles from here this morning and lost their way. They apparently weren’t aware that they wouldn’t have cell service, and therefore, Google Maps (not very authentic Viking-like in my opinion, but what do I know). They’ve been wandering around for hours without food or water, looking for their buddies—the “Enemy English.”
“You guys are never going to make it back to the trailhead before nightfall,” I tell them, still incredulous about this Viking-themed turn of events. Dusk is already falling, and they have about five hours of walking to do, minimum, to get back.
“We really are gonna die,” John says glumly, hanging his head so the long, stringy wool hair attached to his Viking helmet falls in his face.
“Don’t say that,” Holly comforts the man, patting his back awkwardly. “There’s got to be something we can do, some way to get you out. Right, Jax?”
She turns to me expectantly and I consider our options. I have an emergency beacon, but a helicopter rescue for a couple of lost Vikings probably isn’t in the cards. And while part of me wants to give them both a granola bar and a flashlight and send them on their merry LARPing way, I know that isn’t the right thing to do.
“You’ll have to camp with us tonight,” I say, and I could swear that Holly’s gaze flickers towards me. It makes me wonder whether she’s enjoyed our time alone as much as I have. “We’re going to set up camp in a clearing about a half mile down the trail. We have some extra supplies because some people actually like to come to the backcountry prepared.”
“Thank you!” Phil exclaims, completely missing my sarcasm. Or he’s grateful enough not to care. “Thank you to both you and your wife for your generosity!”
My… wife.
I look at Holly, the word snagging in my brain.
My entire life, I’ve never met anyone I wanted to spend time with past a couple of casual dates. Until now. These past few days, it’s been fun not to be a lone wolf out here in the wilderness, but part of a pair. Gifted with a partner in crime for whom I’d fight to the death. I’d defend her with my life from any and all Viking threats. And that word doesn’t feel so uncomfortable, so foreign, anymore.
As I’m looking at Holly, she looks at me. Her eyes are sparkling, and her expression spurs me on as I put an arm around her, happy to pretend, happy to fall further into this wonderful groove we’ve made for ourselves over the last couple days.
Holly leans into my embrace. “My husband is a generous man.”
Husband.
Nope. That word doesn’t feel so bad either.
And that’s how the four of us—plus Rick—end up trudging to the spot I’ve marked on the map for camp tonight. The whole way, Holly chats amiably with the pair of Vikings, even as her hand is loosely intertwined with mine. She seems so at ease in her skin out here. Has taken to the wilderness like a duck to water.
Well, maybe something more graceful than an ordinary duck. A blue-winged teal to water.
At our base for the night, the group goes to find firewood in the surrounding forest while I stay back and assess our gear. There’s a creek for water nearby and I have enough filtration tablets for tonight, as well as a couple of extra meals. And as for the…
Well, crap.
I didn’t think about the sleeping situation.
I’m frowning, looking down at the tent bags, when Holly and her Viking friends return, arms full of wood. Holly must sense what I’m struggling with because she looks at me with a question in her eyes.
“Oh, isn’t that lucky!” John chirps all excitedly, chainmail clink-clanking. “You and the missus brought two tents!”
We do have two tents, each designed for one person. We also only have two sleeping bags and two ground mats. It gets cold here at night, and Tweedledee and Tweedledum don’t look to be wearing much more than their chainmail.
I’m unsure what the protocol is here—we completed a module during the course that focused on emergency how to’s when coming across an individual or group that isn’t prepared for the conditions. But that particular lesson did not include pretend Vikings in dad sneakers.
