Chapter Twenty-Six

Why did Chris have to remove my fucking boardshorts? What am I going to wear on this hike?

I stand in the wardrobe, pulling items of clothing from my suitcase before folding them and putting them away.

The large shelving and deep coves remain relatively empty, but at least a few items are now filling some of the space.

I can’t run away from Arlie. I no longer want to, so I may as well unpack.

Our shower together seems to have been a turning point for me. Perhaps it is due to Arlie’s subtle glances at my naked body, and the respectful way in which he did so. Maybe it’s because he treats me with a level of worship I’d always hoped I’d find in a guy. Or it’s very likely that I’m incredibly horny, and in love with the idea of possibly having a boyfriend at my sexual disposal for once. Quite frankly, it could be all three.

“Hallelujah,” I huff when I locate the only pair of hiking-appropriate bottoms in my belongings. They’re not boardshorts, but they are knee-length capris.

I clip my sports bra in place, throw on a surf T-shirt, and slip on my underwear and pants before I secure my feet into a pair of white sneakers. Blowing out a forceful breath, I fold at my mid-section, letting my hair dangle towards the floor until I gather it and tie the untamed locks into a ponytail.

Tap, tap, tap, tap.

“Melinda.”

“I’m ready,” I say as I straighten to an upright position.

The door opens. Arlie appears wearing a pair of loose-fitting basketball shorts and a muscle tee. He stands with both hands behind his back. “Stand in the middle of the room.”

“Why?”

“Just do it ...” He pauses. “Please?”

“Okay.” What is he up to?

Unhurriedly, his hands appear. A pink iced cupcake with a love-heart candle rests in one of his palms. “Hang on.” He’s smiling when he exposes the lighter in his other hand.

There’s a small flame burning at the top of the cupcake when Arlie closes the gap between us. “Happy thirtieth Birthday.”

An ache fills my chest. It’s not painful or upsetting. It’s an ache brought on by an explosion of happiness. He did know!

“I made a bunch of these cupcakes this morning. There are plenty more where this one came from.”

“You shouldn’t have.”

“I wanted to. I was going to wake you up with one when I got done and went for my run, but, you know, I walked in on you, and then the shower stuff …” His big white teeth shine between his stretched lips.

“Thank you. You’re very thoughtful.” I’m smiling so big my cheeks burn.

Arlie hands me the cupcake. Pink icing is smoothed over the top of a vanilla base. It’s perfect.

“Blow out the candle and make a wish.”

I suck back a breath and circle my lips, but before I get a chance to blow out the dancing flame Arlie sings “Happy Birthday” to me.

Arlie can hold a tune. It’s apparent he can bake. Is there anything this man can’t do?

The flame is extinguished by my breath, and Arlie’s quick to pluck the candle from the cupcake. After days of not consuming any sugar, I pull back the paper like a ravenous wolf and take a significant bite. “So good. Do you want some?”

He nods.

I hold out the remnants of the cake, and Arlie’s quick to chew a chunk away. “You better finish that. You’re going to need energy for this climb,” he mumbles, licking icing from his finger.

The mountain. Do I have to do it?

We didn’t even get a prize for yesterday’s task, so why even bother?

***

I was wrong. We’re not hiking Boob Mountain. We’re climbing a winding track on a much smaller slope.

“We’re halfway.” Arlie seems in his element as we tread along a dirt track.

I feel the life draining out of me as I hunch at my midsection and suck back a needy breath before straightening my shoulders in time to come face-to-face with a massive spiderweb. I hate spiderwebs, spiders, bugs, twigs … I hate everything to do with bushwalking, but I manage to manoeuvre around the web’s sticky strands and rein in my need to scream at its presence.

“Do you need another drink?” Arlie’s barely puffing.

I, on the other hand, am huffing like I’ve knocked back a few bongs, and smoke is squeezing my lungs, holding them for ransom from oxygen.

“You’ll get dehydrated on a walk like this if you don’t keep replenishing your fluids.”

I don’t disagree and take the water bottle from Arlie’s outstretched hand. I suck from the spout in the same way I apparently did from my mother’s breast at the age of two: like a crack whore.

“Let’s keep going,” Arlie chimes, upbeat and relaxed. I hand him back the water bottle.

This mountain will be the death of me. I declare it to be named The Life Snatcher because lord knows I’m going to drop dead before we make it to the top.

My heart is pounding as my mind screams for me to pull up stumps and never, ever move again. The sensation ripping down my thighs can only be compared to a million hands twisting violent Chinese burns against my skin. Yep! I’m going to die here.

“Are you ready to keep going?”

Nooooooooo! my brain cries. “Sure!” My lying tongue is a traitor. I continue to walk for what feels like hours even though it’s more likely minutes.

“Watch out. After this bend, there’s a fallen branch; I can see it farther in front.” Arlie takes large strides. I’m barely shuffling.

“Watch out for the branch, got ya,” I pant. I no longer have any saliva in my mouth.

“We might take a break when we get back onto a straight path.”

“Sounds good.” I gasp for air.

Arlie slightly chuckles. I want to kick his backside for exposing his humour at my near-death experience, but that would mean I’d need to pick up the pace, and my leg to boot his butt, and that isn’t going to fucking happen.

We round the bend. I barely scramble over the fallen branch he alerted me to. My feet are dragging, and Arlie’s getting farther and farther in front of me. I have no air. I can’t keep up. I need to stop.

“Break time,” I bellow, falling to the ground and lying on my back, closing my eyes to shield them from the sun.

There’s laughter, booming laughter, coming from above me.

“Shut up,” I groan, thinking about cocktails and deck chairs laid out across white sand.

“Just take some deep breaths. It’ll pass.”

The feeling of death lurking? Or the pain in every part of my body, Arlie? What’s going to pass?

“We’ll sit for a bit. Catch our breath. It’s not too far to go.”

“We have to come back down, you realise.”

Arlie laughs.

“Stop laughing at me.”

“You’re very cute when you groan and moan like you’re doing.”

“You’re very fit and annoying,” I tease.

“Noted.”

I catch my breath. Arlie takes my hands, helping me into a seated position.

“Have another drink,” he says, passing me the water bottle from the backpack he’s got slung to his front and is lugging up the mountain with us. “Watch the ground for ants. Those suckers can cause a nasty sting.”

I spring to my feet. “Thank you.” My lips, mouth, and chalky tongue taste the sweet, sweet water when I drink as if I don’t my limbs will wither and fall off.

Arlie sits across the path from me in front of some long strands of grass. He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. “Mountain air. It’s so good for the lungs.”

Fucking gloater. He can breathe. I can’t.

I continue to sip from the water bottle and watch as Arlie’s eyes roam our surroundings. I drop my head to the ground below and find myself stuck in a long-drawn-out gasp. I choke on the water, then cough and splutter.

“Are there bones in your water?” Arlie questions with humour in his tone.

“Don’t move,” I choke out.

“Huh?”

“Don’t move.” My eyes bug from my head as I see the slippery sucker sliding in Arlie’s direction, poking out its tongue with a long hiss. “Snake,” I spit.

“Snake? Where?”

“Seriously, don’t move. It’s about to …” I squeal and use all my strength to fight away the urge to run.

“Where is it?”

“To your left. About to slither onto your lap.”

“Fuck,” he breathes, slowly rotating his head.

“Oh God, it’s on your lap.”

“I know. I can see it,” Arlie hisses through his visibly clinched teeth. “Fuck,” he curses again.

“I’ll get a stick.”

“No! Don’t move. Stay still.”

“Okay,” I whisper.

The snake slithers farther onto Arlie’s lap. It’s not a baby, not even a little brother- or sister-sized snake. It’s a big sucker, and its flat bowhead is now directly on top of Arlie’s man junk.

“Are you hanging in there?” I’m not sure what else to say to a man who has a snake head perched on top of his cock.

“I’ve had better days,” he groans.

“Whatever you do, don’t move.”

“No shit!” There’s fear in Arlie’s tone.

I’m not sure how much time passes, but it feels like forever before this uninvited slippery critter completes its body drag across Arlie’s groin. As the last of the snake’s tail slides to the ground, Arlie remains still.

“It’s gone,” I say.

“Hang on.”

The snake disappears into the brush, and with its vanishing act, Arlie suddenly leaps from the ground and runs towards me, smacking at his legs and flinging his arms around.

I laugh. I can’t help it. This manly built man’s limbs are being flung every which way.

“Stop laughing. Fucking snakes,” he scolds.

I laugh harder.

“It could have bitten my cock. Seriously, this isn’t funny.”

I bend at my midsection with tears rushing down my cheeks.

“Let’s get the hell out of here.”

A loud, piercing scream explodes from my lips when Arlie lifts me from the ground unexpectedly. “What are you doing?”

“You’re going too slow,” he says, moving me until I’m clinging to his back.

“You can’t piggyback me to the top.”

“You want to fucking bet? I’d rather that than get my dick bitten off by a hungry serpent.”

Throwing my head back has my laughter returning.

“Payback, Melinda. There’ll be some epic payback coming your way. You mark my words.”

“Bring it on.”

“Oh, it’s brought.”