Page 50 of Valley Girls
She gave him a smile out of the corner of her mouth.
“I didn’t hear an answer,” he said, eyes falling to her mouth.
“No,” she said casually, looking away as if it didn’t really matter. They crossed through the parking lot, and into Camp 4.
It was mid-afternoon and as quiet as Rilla had ever seen it. It was still full somehow—people clumped around their picnic tables and unlit fires. Eating or reading. Talking.
Rilla walked side by side with Walker through the camp. As they passed, people glanced up from what they were doing. Some looked at Walker with recognition. Some watched them like they were trying to figure out what was happening. A surge of warmth hit Rilla’s chest—a thrill—walking beside him like she was part of this. Like they were the gods of this sunshine and granite world. She might be faking it just then, but she was determined to become part of this. This was how she wanted to be looked at, always.
“So, you’re enjoying climbing with Petra?” he asked, loping up the gentle, rocky slope to the cluster of canvas tents, pulled away from Camp 4, under the shade of incense cedars.
“Yeah, she’s been great. I know you don’t like her, but ...”
“I like her,” he said defensively. “Clearly she’s better than me at teaching.”
He dumped off his pack into the canvas tent. The breeze shifted and a heavy wall of the smell of his sweat hit her full in the face.
He must have smelled it too, because he touched his chest. “Sorry.”
“You’re fine.” She swallowed and tried not to breathe deeply.
“I need a shower.”
“I assume it’s in your plans.”
“Do you think a clean shirt would help?” He frowned and looked away thoughtfully. “On second thought, I’m not sure I have a clean shirt ...”
Was he asking just for her? She couldn’t tell. It made her nervous. He made her nervous. Even when he smelled disgusting. “If you meet anyone you want to smell nice for, tell them you just came back from your assault on El Cap. It’s an aphrodisiac.”
“Well, duh. I crushed itandrescued a kitten. While baring my biceps.” He flexed, and she wasn’t sure if she was going to die from the smell, or the aesthetic.
“Well, you’ve been warned. Don’t get downwind.”
She shifted and pretended to inhale, clutching her throat and tipping back as if she’d died.
“Very funny. I’m getting a shirt.”
He disappeared into the canvas tent, leaving her awkwardly standing by herself at the picnic table outside. The wind felt cool on her arms, as the sun disappeared behind clouds. She shivered and looked around.
Standing in the middle of the SAR site tents pulled away from Camp 4, where only the search and rescue climbers lived, felt like standing in the middle of someone’s house. Everything was lived out in the open. Like HUFF. But the tents here, like the one Walker had disappeared into, were lived in and ragged on the edges in a way the ones at HUFF were not. Faded tarps were strung up over the roofs—leading one to presume they leaked—and tied to the cedars or tall wooden stakes to make overhanging porches. Under the tarps were all manner of earthly possessions, similar to Thea’s overstuffed cabin and closet and the house in the Grove. Bikes leaned against the trees. Milk crates were stacked as shelves. Worn chairs waited for missing occupants. A fire smoked between two of the canvas tents, its coals all banked. A box of cereal sat out on the picnic table under one of the tarp porches. It looked like someone’s leg hung off a cot through a ripped screen door, but she couldn’t be sure.
Walker came back out in a wrinkled white undershirt smudged with dirt at the hem. He winced, running his hand down his flat stomach. “Okay, let’s go.”
He pulled a bike from the side of the tent and got on. “Lady’s choice.” He grinned and looked back and forth between the back axle and the handlebars in front.
Laughing, she hopped lightly onto the back of the bike and gripped his shoulders.
He kicked off and her teeth chattered as they rode down the rocky hill and back onto the footpath of Camp 4. Thank god he couldn’t see her face. All that white T-shirt against tanned skin and dark blond hair curling on his neck ... ugh, how could he be this disgustinganddisgustingly hot? They were going to eat. Were they on a date? Her stomach flipped and she couldn’t help the grin that threatened to split her face in half.
He abruptly turned.
She yelped and clutched at his neck.
“You’re choking me.” His hand pulled at her fingers and she loosened them, cheeks hot and heart all aflutter.
They rolled into Yosemite Village, parked the bike, and headed into the grill.
“I’m starved,” he declared, tipping his head to the menu and lacing his fingers behind his head, arms up, before he caught sight of Rilla’s face and lowered his arms with a sheepish face. “Sorry.”
