Page 94 of Valley Girls
“Yeah. Totally.”
She glanced up. “How about you? A girlfriend back home?”
He snorted. “No. No. The rumors are true,” he said with a touch of bitterness. “I’m not known for having serious relationships.” He studied his tea. “It’s like climbing with a stranger. The idea of a relationship, I’ve done it, but ...” He shuddered.
“Right? How are you supposed to even know? They could, like, tell you just to hang on, while they pick their nose. And you’re screwed. You’re up there, trying not to die. While your partner just has a thumb up his ass.” Or wants more than you can give and is angry with you.
Walker laughed. “People are the worst.”
“They really are,” she said, trying not to replay the worst of her memories.
He took a large swallow of his tea and straightened off the counter. “Maybe it doesn’t have to be a risk. Just like ...”
“Like climbing with you?” She said it as a joke. And then suddenly flushed, realizing what she’d said.
“I’m much better ... than ...” But he seemed flustered too.
She looked at his hands, curled around the mug.
“This valley is so small,” he said after a moment. “It’s just like Ohio in a weird way. It’s hard to keep anything quiet. Turns out you can never escape certain things.”
“Except it’s the most international small town I never imagined.” Too late it occurred to her that he might have meant something else, something she hadn’t addressed—she couldn’t tell.
“Well, thanks for the tea.” He slid the mug over.
Rilla took it, stomach nose-diving in disappointment—clutching after something she’d missed. Some opportunity.
He straightened and stretched his arms, rolling his wide shoulders. Delaying?
She swallowed. “I’ll walk you back.”
His eyes flickered to hers.
“Caroline would be so pissed if you got hurt on the way back,” she said, rolling her eyes.
He chuckled.
Her heart raced even faster. This was it. This was it. Somehow, this was totally it.
It was silent, and only a little awkward, as Rilla slipped on her sandals and looked up to find Walker watching her.
He had brought his bike, which made it more ridiculous that she was “walking” him home; but she hopped up on the back sprockets, and he kicked off, and the night opened up as they sped out of the meadow.
Her hands were on his shoulders, her chin above his head.Trust yourself. Trust your gear. Trust ... your partner.
She ran her fingers up the side of his hair and back, tugging at the long, dirty strands. His chin tilted up toward her, his head hitting her chest. He couldn’t see where he was going, but they knew the paths so well he didn’t need to. His throat was bared in the moon, his lips slightly apart. Eyes closed. The wind kissed their faces.
Slowly, she lowered her lips to his, nipping gently at his lower lip.
The bike dipped to the left and they yanked apart. He pulled forward to right it, the spell broken.
Her heart beat against her ribs as he leaned away from her and pedaled slowly to the edge of Camp 4.
She got off the bike, aching and bursting at the seams to keep on in that moment. He leaned over the front of the bike and watched her. “Tired, West Virginia?” he asked.
Her pulse throbbed in her head. “Not right now,” she whispered.
He opened his mouth to say something, but a shrill beeping interrupted.
