“Don’t make me call Maxine,” he warns, and that does it. I’m hopping up on his back while Maxx catches my legs with his arms. Squeezing my eyes shut tight, I do my best not to think about the fact that I’m not only pressed up intimately against my sister’s boyfriend’s back, but also that my legs are wrapped around him.
Ugh.
This. freaking. blows.
“Are you sure you’re alright?” I ask, because it can’t be easy to carry someone on a hike that I was struggling to manage with only my own weight. Also, I’m up close and personal with Maxx’s neck, and I can see quite clearly that he’s sweating.
“I’ve got you, no worries.”
I do my best to relax, trying to enjoy the ride instead of dreading it. Eventually, I let myself go completely limp against Maxx’s back, hugging his neck, and appreciating his long, steady strides. It’d be relaxing, if I didn’t happen to glance back and see someone following us.
There’s a man, not too far off, wearing a hat and using a walking stick. I didn’t notice him before, so I figure he must’ve come up one of the other trails at the crossroads. He seems to be keeping a quicker pace than us and should pass by soon.
After a while, however, I realize that he’s not going anywhere. He’s not catching up to us, and he isn’t falling back either. Frankly, it’s creepy as hell.
“There’s a man following us,” I whisper, and Maxx pauses briefly, turning us both so he can look back.
“You can pass if you need to; I’ll be carrying her for a while,” he calls out, but the man doesn’t answer. He just keeps walking, but Maxx stays right where he is. My anxiety spikes the closer the guy gets to us, reminding me that girls hiking are never really safe. Men can be monsters for sure.
The man breezes past us, and I swear to god, I get the chills as he goes. His face is impossible to see, with his hat pulled low the way it is.
Maxx watches him for a while, but since I’m riding on his back, I can’t see his face.
“Weirdo,” he murmurs, and I can’t decide if he’s just absently insulting the guy … or if he’s freaked out by him. Either way, we continue walking, dappled sunlight falling across Maxx’s espresso colored hair.
“If you and Maxine have babies together, they’d all have dark hair.” I tousle Maxx’s hair as I say it, and he stops walking. Seriously, he just freezes right there in the middle of the pathway, and I jostle up even closer against his back, squeezing my eyes shut tight and breathing through the weirdness I’m feeling right now. “Sorry, I have no idea why I just said that.”
There’s a pause before Maxx responds, but I can hear the smile in his voice.
“No worries at all. I wasn’t bothered by it; I was just thinking.”
He continues onward as I frown against his back. Are he and Maxine already thinking babies? They better not be. Our grandparents always told us ‘thirty or bust’. They strongly believe in enjoying your twenties and saving that decade just for you. Maxine would never … would she?
“Do you use protection with my sister?” I blurt, and Maxx stumbles a bit over an exposed root, cursing as he catches himself on the trunk of a tree and turns to stare at me over his own shoulder.
“Really?” he asks, but not like he’s pissed off about it. More like he’s just surprised I had the audacity to say that aloud. I get that a lot, actually. Maxx snorts and drops his chin with a bit of a chuckle.
“I’m not sure Maxine would appreciate you telling me this …”
I gasp and almost lose my grip on his shoulders.
“You aren’t, are you?” I choke out, gagging on the idea of Maxx and my sister and … eww. Gross. Just … no. No way. “She isn’t pregnant, is she?”
“Pregnant?” Maxx echoes, and then he laughs again. “God, no. She couldn’t possibly be pregnant … unless you know something I don’t? We aren’t having sex, Kota.”
Oh.
Ooooooh.
Oh.
“You aren’t?” I repeat as Maxx starts walking again, this time at a slower pace. That, I did not expect. Maxine had sex with her first boyfriend when they were both sixteen, and then with her second boyfriend when she was eighteen. I’m surprised.
“I’m sort of … a save it until engagement guy?” he queries, almost like he’s asking himself a question. “Or at least I was going to try. Not for religious reasons or anything but just because it seemed like a good idea to wait.”
“You’re a virgin? Me, too.” The words pop out of my mouth before I can stop them, and I groan. “Okay, I’m being cringey as fuck. I’ll stop talking now.” He laughs at me yet again, but it doesn’t last long. Then he’s stopping on the path, his shoulders going tense as he surveys the switchbacks in front of us. “Did I say too much? The virgin thing was a lot …”
