Blue Ridge Calling, page 4
“I’d rather you designed one just for me,” she said, leaning over the counter to trace the edge of the paper with her finger.
“Well, I’ll have to get to know you first,” Hunter grinned. “So I can get it just right.”
Kora was certain that was not true of all clients. She smiled back. Maybe this flirting thing wasn’t so hard.
“Sorry, am I distracting you from your work?” Kora asked, not at all sorry.
“Actually, I was about to close up,” said Hunter. “We don’t have any more appointments today, and we don’t get a lot of walk-ins. Most of Jeb’s clients make appointments by texting him.” She started moving things off the counter and putting them away. When she was done, she turned back around to Kora. “Want to grab a coffee next door?”
Kora nodded, and Hunter grabbed a large key ring and a leather jacket from the back. Once they were out the door, Hunter turned the key and pulled on it to make sure it was locked.
They walked next door to Common Grounds. It was a nice place with planters full of pansies in the windows and wrought iron chairs outside.
Hunter got a black coffee and spooned in some local honey. Kora got a caramel mocha with extra whipped cream. Hunter gave her a look and she shrugged.
“I like sugar,” she said.
“Clearly,” said Hunter, but her tone didn’t show any signs of judgment.
They chose a little table outside. It was just getting to the time of year that didn’t require a jacket in the evenings, and Kora couldn’t stand to be inside for too long. The patio was full of eclectic furniture and twinkly lights, which were already on despite the fading pink skies.
“So, how long have you been doing the apprenticeship with Jeb?” Kora asked.
“Not long,” said Hunter. “I moved here from the Cherokee area a few months ago. Jeb is a friend of the family, and I came out here to work with him.” She took a sip of her coffee, and Kora liked the way the tendons in her hand flexed around the mug.
“That explains why I don’t know you,” said Kora.
“Oh yeah?” Hunter asked, a confused smile pulling up her lips.
“Pretty girl, small town. Not to mention the motorcycle. I’m sure I would have heard about you by now.” Kora held her coffee mug in front of her face. She wasn’t good at flirting, and she shouldn’t even be trying. The memory of sitting on the bench with Connor this morning replayed in her mind, and she felt a stab of guilt.
“You make me sound like I’m in a biker gang,” Hunter said with a grin. “I bought the motorcycle because it was cheaper than a car. I used to ride dirt bikes with my cousins when I was a kid, so it wasn’t too much of a learning curve.”
“Okay, but it would be pretty cool if you were in a biker gang,” said Kora.
“Good to know you’re into that,” Hunter laughed. “So, I take it you’re from around here?”
“Born and raised. Just graduated from Oakcrest—you were at my graduation party.”
Kora looked up, suddenly nervous. She wasn’t sure how old Hunter was, considering she was already working, and she didn’t know if just having graduated high school put her outside the acceptable dating age range. But Hunter didn’t seem surprised or worried, so she relaxed.
“What’s next for you?” Hunter asked, looking genuinely interested.
“Art school,” Kora said. For some reason she couldn’t conjure up her typical amount of enthusiasm.
“You don’t seem too excited about it,” Hunter said, raising an eyebrow.
“It’s pretty far away,” said Kora. She felt an urge to change the subject. “What about you? How did you get into tattooing?”
“I’ve always been an artist,” said Hunter, absentmindedly rubbing her hand over a rose tattoo on her forearm. “I graduated high school early so I could take some drawing classes at a local community college. When I heard Jeb was looking for an apprentice, I decided it was time to turn it into a career.”
Relief flowed through Kora. So they weren’t that far apart in age after all.
“How do you like it so far?” she asked.
Hunter smiled, looking away. It was softer than her usual charm.
“I love it,” she said. “It means so much to me that people let me practice on their bodies. I don’t take that for granted.”
Kora could tell she meant it.
“So what about you,” Hunter asked. “What kind of art do you do?”
“Painting, mostly,” said Kora. “Some drawing. I like flowers. My mom has a garden.”
Words were tumbling out of her mouth in a nervous rush. She shook her head subtly enough that she hoped Hunter couldn’t see it, trying to get her thoughts straight.
“So how do you like Pinebrook?” Kora asked.
“It’s great,” said Hunter. “Cool shops, good hiking. Nice people.” She grinned.
Kora smiled back. “So you like hiking?”
“I’ve pretty much spent as much time as I could outdoors since I could pitch a tent,” she said.
“You must be pretty good,” Kora said, taking another sip of her coffee. She looked past the patio at the mountain peak that rested just beyond Main Street. The sky had faded to a smoky purple.
“I know my way around an REI,” said Hunter. Kora laughed.
“You’ll have to teach me,” she said. “I’m hopeless on camping trips.”
“You can’t be that bad.”
“I go every year with my best friend and her family,” said Kora. “Without fail, every year I come home with some kind of dramatic injury.” She reached out her hand to show Hunter a light pink scar on her finger. “This is from my one and only attempt at gutting a fish.”
Hunter took Kora’s hand so she could get a closer look at the scar. Kora tried to control her heart rate when their fingers touched. For someone who was obviously strong and outdoorsy, Hunter had remarkably soft hands.
“That’s nothing,” she said, dropping Kora’s hand. She couldn’t help but be a little disappointed. But then, Hunter pulled up her shirt almost to her chest. There was a patch of raised red skin over her ribs. “Falling out of a tree in a bathing suit.”
Kora’s breath caught a little at how much of her skin was showing. Her hand twitched unconsciously. Hunter noticed, and gestured at the scar. “Go ahead,” she said. Kora leaned over the table and ran her fingers over the rough mark. The skin on Hunter’s torso was soft. Kora’s eyes drifted down to her belly button. She pulled her hand away and took another sip of coffee.
“Impressive,” she said into her mug. Hunter was smirking. Kora felt flushed and reached to press a hand to the back of her neck, which suddenly felt hot. She quickly changed the subject. “So, do you live nearby?”
Hunter laughed. “Very nearby, actually. Jeb lets me rent the apartment above the shop.” She pointed back toward Cabin Fever and the little windows on the second floor.
“I’d love to see it sometime,” said Kora, and then looked down at the table, embarrassed at how that sounded.
Hunter feigned ignorance. “Definitely.”
The rest of the sun seeped from the sky as they talked, and the sparkling lights of the patio started to stand out more. They reflected in Hunter’s shiny, dark hair. The baristas started to put chairs on top of tables, and Kora knew that was their cue to leave.
Hunter walked her to her car. Kora shivered as the wind picked up, and Hunter took the leather jacket that was wrapped around her waist and draped it over Kora’s shoulders. She shrugged into it. It smelled like campfire and some kind of spice.
When they got to the car, Kora became very aware that it was officially dark outside. Away from the lights of the coffee shop, she could hardly see Hunter’s face. She turned around and leaned against the door.
Hunter took a step closer—close enough that Kora wouldn’t be able to open the car door without them both moving. But she didn’t want to move. This close, the smell of the jacket was stronger and mixed with something sharp, like gasoline. Hunter’s grin faded to a soft smile. Kora’s heart raced, and she felt sweaty.
Hunter noticed the change in her expression. “You okay?” her voice was soft, almost a whisper, like they were swapping secrets in the dark.
Kora decided to go with honesty. “You make me nervous,” she said.
“In a good way or a bad way?”
Kora thought back to Connor’s face at the party, how deflated he’d looked when he saw Hunter. And she thought of all the complications in her life, dividing her attention—her mother packing up the house, Sage’s family drama, preparing to leave for art school. There were a lot of reasons to steer clear of this.
“I can’t really commit to someone right now,” she said. “I’m leaving at the end of the summer, so I need to keep things casual.”
Hunter nodded, looking thoughtful but not upset.
“Casual,” she said. “I can do that.” She leaned in a little closer. “Does that mean you don’t want me to kiss you?”
“No,” Kora breathed, “it does not.”
In the dark, leaning against the car, the kiss seemed to last a long time and not long enough. Kora liked the soft curve of Hunter’s face and the way it felt to hold it with her palm. Her hair was thick and pin-straight as Kora ran her fingers through it. She felt a chill up her spine as Hunter wrapped her hand around Kora’s neck, pulling her closer.
It occurred to Kora that it had been a long time since she had kissed a girl. Since she kissed anyone other than Connor, really. Kissing Hunter was sharp, electric. It felt immediately right, like they had done it before.
Hunter pulled away and gently kissed Kora’s cheek before leaning back and running a hand through her hair. Kora started to take off the jacket so she could return it.
“Hold onto it,” said Hunter, grinning. “You can give it back next time.”
Kora smiled back. “Sure.”
And just like that, Hunter was rounding the corner, back toward the tattoo shop. Kora’s heart was still racing when she got into the car. She waited to calm down before starting it. Hunter’s last words ran through her head over and over: Next time.
Chapter 4
It was still dark outside when Sage woke up for swim practice. She turned off her alarm, blinked heavily for a few minutes, and then shoved a handful of pills in her mouth.
She had been on the same cocktail of medications for a while, and it was hard to remember what each of them was for, but she knew they struck a difficult balance to offset her brain’s various troubles. Things had gotten worse after her mom died, the tension pulling her toward the darker end of the spectrum. But she had more or less evened out since then.
Her body moved slowly as she got out of bed and started getting ready, but once her meds kicked in, it was a little easier. It had been a long time since she had woken up unaided by pharmaceuticals. Even longer since she had slept past sunrise. Before, when Sam was still at home, he would begrudgingly give her rides to swim practice and Kora would bring her home after school. Now, her dad hardly ever left the house, so his car was free for her to use.
Driving to practice was her favorite part of this morning routine. The roads at 5 a.m. were empty except for long-haul truckers and baristas driving to their opening shifts. She could drive fast without the glare of the morning sun in her eyes. When the moon was bright, she could see fog over the mountains as she passed over bridges and through sparse patches of trees.
She had been swimming with her teammates for so long they didn’t blink at each other’s naked bodies as they changed in the morning. Sage didn’t bother finding an empty stall in the locker room anymore. She was fast and efficient at switching from her shorts and t-shirt to her suit. Everyone else liked to talk while they got dressed and warmed up. Sage could remember when she did the same thing, but now, nothing seemed worth talking about so early in the morning.
The summer season had started, which meant using the outdoor pool, but it was still too early in the year for the water to be warm. Somehow it never got easier diving into the cold first thing in the morning, even after months and years of the same routine. But eventually, she got used to the water, and then it was just as jarring getting back out. At least the air was clear outside. In the small confines of the indoor pool, the air was thick with chlorine.
Practice always passed by quickly to Sage. The rest of the team would probably hate her for thinking that, but moving her body meant she had something to focus her mind on. Anxiety was starting to creep up on her. She had the horrible feeling that there was something she was forgetting, but she couldn’t remember what it was. It was pretty much a hallmark of her ADHD, and she hated it. Whenever she felt this way, distractions were the only thing that really kept panic from building up in her chest and squeezing her lungs.
Swimming meant that she couldn’t think about her family or her final grades or what she was going to do when Kora left for school. She had to focus on moving her arms in exactly the right way to push her forward.
Today, she had a coaching shift after practice. She wasn’t usually good with kids, but she liked teaching them about swimming. This sport was hard on the body and the mind. It took discipline and focus. She had had many coaches that pushed her past where she was willing to go, and she could still feel the results in her body. When she stretched too far or lifted too much, her muscles protested, and her joints struggled to keep up. With these kids, she had the chance to teach them differently. Under her leadership, they could learn to listen to their bodies and respond to its cues rather than working it into the ground. Not that she could ever follow that guidance herself.
As she dried off from the pool and got ready to coach, her teammate sat next to her on the locker room bench.
“We missed you at practice last week,” the girl said. Her name was Shania. Sage liked her, but she couldn’t help but wonder why she had stuck it out this long. Her times weren’t good enough to make it to Regionals. If she had no chance at a swimming scholarship, what was she doing here?
“Yeah, I wasn’t feeling well,” Sage said, wringing her hair out with a towel.
“Did you go to the senior bonfire?” Shania asked, a knowing smirk on her lips. Sage glanced over and decided her expression wasn’t judgmental.
“I’ve been told I attended,” she said. “Don’t remember it too well myself.”
Shania laughed. “At least you had some fun before the summer session,” she said. “Sometimes I wish we could have a normal summer off.”
Sage nodded. She had felt that way every summer since she could remember.
Shania stood up and walked toward her locker. She turned back to look at Sage.
“Your times were looking good today,” she said with a gentle smile. “We’re lucky to have you on the team.”
Before Sage could respond, Shania was around the corner. She wasn’t sure what she would say anyway. As fast as she was and as hard as she worked, her presence on the team didn’t feel lucky. She was as good as she needed to be to excel. It had always been a means to an end.
She stretched her shoulder and felt the twinge of pain that came with certain movements. The summer had just started, and she couldn’t wait for it to end.
Buried under a pile of blankets on the couch, Sage refused to move when Kora arrived, even after she held up a bag of microwave popcorn and a DVD of Jurassic Park.
“It’s my turn,” Kora said triumphantly.
While Sage stayed put in her blanket cocoon, Kora popped the disk into the DVD player and cooked the popcorn. She was already munching on a handful when she sat down on the couch. After one attempt at stealing the corner of Sage’s blankets, she realized it wasn’t going to happen and went in search of another one. Sage grabbed some popcorn and watched the menu screen for the movie.
“Okay,” said Kora when she came back, blanket in hand. “Ready for some dinosaur action?”
“Hold up,” said Sage. She sat up and unwrapped part of her blanket. “First, you have to spill about your date with Hunter.” Kora had texted her the other night that she had spontaneously met up with her new crush, and Sage had to know the details.
Kora looked up to the ceiling like she did when she was experiencing complicated feelings. Sage didn’t really understand why, but knew to be on the lookout for it, because it usually meant they were going to have to talk about them. She almost regretted asking–she loved Kora deeply and wanted her to be happy, but her friend occasionally veered too far into the sappy, woeful, or otherwise intense emotions Sage was not particularly equipped for.
“It was really nice,” she said, running her fingers through her hair. “She’s actually really nice. I didn’t expect that, because she’s also really cool. And I think she likes me.”
“Well, good,” said Sage. “She should. Everybody likes you.”
Kora sighed, and Sage fought the urge to roll her eyes. Here we go, Sage thought. Kora’s dramatics were never a good sign.
“I just,” she began, then huffed another sigh. “I just don’t know what I want right now. I mean I’m supposed to be going to New York at the end of the summer.” She leaned forward and rested her chin in her hand, propped up on her knee. She glanced at Sage with a guilty expression. “And then there’s Connor.”
“Forget about Connor,” Sage groaned. “You guys didn’t work out for a reason. And you don’t have to know what you want yet. Just give yourself a chance to figure it out. Like by going on more dates.”
Kora smiled and sat back up. “You’re right,” she said. “You’re always right.”
“Now you’re getting it,” said Sage. She re-cocooned herself and picked up the TV remote. “Now let’s watch some dinosaurs eat some people.”
