Page 81 of Two-Step
“What?” I ask, stepping over a rabbit hole.
“You’re not clumsy.”
I snort. “Oh, yes, I am.”
Beau gives me a pointed look. “We’ve been hiking for almost an hour and you haven’t tripped or stumbled once.” He gestures to the trail at our feet. “Chicot is nothing but roots and ruts, and you haven’t so much as stubbed your toe.”
I check out the path. He’s right. A network of tree roots and cypress knees make up the fabric of the trail. And he’s also right that I haven’t tripped. Not once.
“Yeah, but, how many times have you seen me trip before today?”
He angles his head left to right as though considering. “A few times.”
“Be honest.”
One side of his mouth quirks. “Okay. Several times.”
“Exactly.Severaltimes, and we haven’t know each other all that long.”
“Okay, then, what’s different about today?” And now I can hear the teacher in his voice. He sounds like he already has the answer.
I hop over a muddy patch on the trail. “I don’t know. No one else is watching?”
“I’m watching.”
I bite my lips to keep from smiling like a loon. For some reason, I like the sound of that way too much.
“And does that mean you never trip or stumble when you’re alone?”
“That’s a bigno.”Even if Mica’s the only one who witnesses, I trip in my slippers. I bump doorways. I stumble over area rugs. All the time.
“So scratch that hypothesis.” He sounds so smug.
I summon all the snark. “Okay, professor, tell me what you think.”
“I’m not a professor,” he chuckles.
“Well, you’re a teacher, and you’re about to school me, so…”
Beau shrugs. “I could be wrong, but I think it has to do with hiking.”
I frown. “I’ve tripped and fallen on hikes before.”
“So have I,” he says. “It kind of comes with the territory, especially the more challenging the trail.”
“Well, then, what do you mean?”
“Ask yourself this. Do you trip or stumble on hikes as often as you do—” he sweeps his hand, gesturing at the wide world, “anywhere else?”
I stop cold.
Because the answer isno.Idon’t. Yeah, I skid on loose rocks and step in holes when I’m hiking, but Beau is right. Everyone does. Sally does—no more or less than I do.
And itisless than when I’m anywhere else.
I stare at Beau, my mouth hanging open. “What thehell?!”
He’s grinning at me as if I’m his star pupil.
