Page 13 of Valley Girls
“All right, West Virginia.” He put his arm around her waist and cinched her tight against him. “Let go.”
She didn’t want to, but with his arm there and the pull of his body away from the wall—the assurance of that weight—she could force her fingers to uncurl. Even so, a little scream escaped her throat as the rope stretched with their weight, pulling away from the rock.
Walker lowered them to the ground.
As soon as her feet hit the dirt, she yanked away, angrier with each second at everyone and everything. Mostly herself. Her tears were drying stiff and salty on her cheeks. Rounding on Walker, she opened her mouth to unleash her ire.
Before Rilla could even get a word out, a female voice interrupted. “Walker Jennings, stop torturing that poor girl.”
Five
The way Walker’s face tightened, Rilla expected an evil stepmother draped in the skin of his favorite dog. Instead, the girl who bounded on top of a rock was only a little older than Rilla, with long, straight blond hair and pale blue eyes—not beautiful, but compelling in that wide-open, California girl way. “Don’t you know anything by now?” The girl wagged her finger in Walker’s face. She wasn’t wearing any makeup, and her hoodie and leggings were streaked with dirt. Somehow, the effect was one of instant coolness. Like she was one whoactuallyjust woke up like that.
Rilla hunched, wiping her cheeks—thankful her angry tears had been surprised away like a case of the hiccups.
The girl patted Walker’s shoulder and shook her head. “We’vegotto get you some manners.”
Walker’s jaw clenched. “Petra, this isn’t ...”
The girl leaned on his shoulder and started talking over him. “I keep telling him this is terrible foreplay, but does he listen?” She held out a hand. “Petra Moore. Nice to meet you.”
Rilla swallowed and offered her sweaty, damp hand. “Rilla.”
“How’s your vacation going, Rilla? Apart from this creep?” Petra jerked her thumb over her shoulder.
“No, I ... um.” Rilla choked on her spit, swallowing quickly to answer. “I live here.”
“Oh, you work here.” Petra’s eyes flickered with interest. “What do you do?”
“No. I just live here. With my sister.”
Petra straightened off Walker’s shoulder. “Wait.Livelive here? Are you serious? And this your first time climbing?” She glanced over her shoulder to Walker’s bare chest and rolled her eyes. “Oh,honey.”
Rilla’s cheeks burned. “Turns out, this one’s not a great teacher,” she said, knowing it was petty, but trying to salvage a scrap of her dignity.
Walker yanked the rope down with a glare in her direction. The rope whizzed and sizzled, dropping to the dirt with a thump.
“Rope,” he said, in a deadpan.
Petra laughed. “If only all his liaisons could say such darling things, I’d like them more.” She saidliaisonwith the same thick, buttery accent the French boy had the night before. It rolled off, casually. Effortlessly. And then was gone.
Rilla swallowed, her tongue thick in her mouth.
“Everyone’s at Angels’ Bowl,” Petra said. “Which, incidentally, is how you should try seducing girls from now on, Jennings.”
Walker’s face was all thunderstorms. “I was doing. A favor. For a friend.”
“Yeah,” Rilla jumped in hastily. “We’re not ...” But she trailed off, embarrassed.
Petra laughed and hitched the rope higher on her shoulder. “Have you been up there? No, if you’re new to the Valley. Well, you’re coming. You have to. I won’t let him annoy you.”
“Yeah, okay.” It was out of Rilla’s mouth way too fast to be cool. Of course she was going to go. The two of them together—Walker and Petra—looked like a movie she’d never be in. They looked like they had always been and would always be in Yosemite. And anything with Walker—someone Thea clearly seemed to trust—was probably okay, or would at least make a good excuse.
Despite Walker’s bluster and Petra’s needling, Petra set aside her rope, and she and Walker worked together to repack the gear, before all three of them headed off across the Valley.
Walker and Petra kept talking—arguing—as they circled up toward the base of the massive cliffs, with an exchange, that for all Walker’s crankiness and Petra’s antagonizing, made small curls of jealousy form in the bottom of Rilla’s stomach. She couldn’t tell if her jealousy was over the easy way they fought, or because it was clear she’d never be that cool.
Her freak-out while climbing seemed more and more illogical. He probably thought she was afraid of heights. It wasn’t the height. It was the insecurity. If she’d just taken a second andthought about it, she could have pulled herself together.
