Twenty Eight
Walker patted her phone and notebook, neatly sitting on the table beside him.
“Oh.” Rilla gave a nervous laugh. “Hey. Thanks for bringing those back.”
“I swear, Rilla, you are the most scatterbrained person I know,” Thea said.
Rilla frowned.
“How’d it go?” Walker asked, a grin on the corner of his mouth.
Rilla glared him.
“How did what go?” Thea asked.
“Nothing,” Rilla said quickly. “I was showing Petra the tennis courts.” Rilla opened the cupboard and got out a mug, steadying her still-shaking hands.
“Okay.” Thea looked at Walker as if he was supposed to explain; but he just shrugged.
“Want some tea?” Rilla asked Thea.
“I gotta head to bed,” Thea said.
Rilla held the tea box up for Walker. “Peppermint?”
He leaned forward on the counter, his long ropey arms tensing under the thin T-shirt. “Ah . . .” He nodded. “Sure. Why not? I’ll take some.”
A rush of warmth ran up her spine, and she had to turn quickly to hide the smile on her face by getting a mug out the cupboard and setting the kettle on the stove.
“So, in that situation you’d want to use a clove hitch, right?” Walker asked Thea.
Thea looked up. “Oh, yeah.” She stretched. “Sorry, I was distracted. All right, I have to sleep. You’re in for the night, right, Rilla?”
Rilla nodded, busying herself with the mugs and teabags. “Want honey?” she asked.
“Nah. I’ll just drink this and be heading back. Night, Thea. Thanks for talking.”
“Anytime,” Thea said. “Thanks for bringing Rilla’s stuff back.”
They were left in silence.
Walker’s gaze flicked to hers. Judging by his tensed mouth and furrowed brow, he was holding something back.
“What?”
His mouth twitched. “Nothing.”
She raised her eyebrow.
With a wide-open palm he rubbed his mouth, eyes somehow exasperated when they flickered to her.
Her heart raced. “Oh come on, what?”
The kettle began to whistle and she turned off the stove and poured the water.
He straightened up sober and his expression in control, accepting the mug. “So I’m just everyone’s vacation fuck boy?”
She cringed. “That was not okay. I don’t even . . . I was . . . Everyone just . . .”
“Everyone what?”
She shrugged. “You have a reputation. I’ve been warned.”
He nodded, lips pursed. After a minute of awkward silence, he said, “What are their warnings?”
Rilla swallowed. If she told him, her feelings would be obvious. Explicit. She turned away and put the tea back. “Just that you move through girls quickly.”
He didn’t respond. Didn’t look at her. She slid over his mug and waited.
“Climbing any better after Caroline?” he asked, changing the subject.
“I think so? I still suck, but like in a better way?”
He smiled. “That’s all you can ask for.”
“Hopefully I won’t be there forever.”
“You don’t think the best climbers feel that way?”
“Do you feel like you suck?” she asked.
“All the time. On and off the wall.”
She rolled her eyes. “You’re supposed to tell me about your feats of nerve and daring.”
He blew softly on his tea, sending ripples over the liquid. “Sometimes it’s nice not to have to lead with that.”
She smirked. “If I had that to lead with, I would.”
His eyes popped up in amusement. “What about you with that whole . . .” He shimmied his shoulders.
“Wait, what is that? That’s not me. I am offended.”
Now it was his turn to roll his eyes. “Right, who’s that guy you run with?” He drummed his fingers on the counter.
“Jonah is actually just a friend,” Rilla said primly.
“Sure.” Walker nodded. “Sure. Do you have a boyfriend back home?”
Something flashed hot and panicky across her chest. Rilla sipped her tea. It burned the tip of her tongue. “No. I’ve actually only had one boyfriend. A few other casual things . . .” Just at that moment, the memory of being backed against the truck and slapping Curtis across the face shimmered alive in her head. Her palm stung. Her heart raced. She swallowed and looked down, trying to regain control. She was fine. It was fine.
“Really?” Walker asked with surprise.
“What’s that mean?” She realized too late it sounded intense and defensive.
“No. It’s fine. I just . . . I don’t know. I expected—” He stopped abruptly and clamped his mouth shut. After a long drink of his tea he said, “Nothing. It means nothing.”
She narrowed her eyes.
“Was it serious?” he asked.
For Curtis, not for her. She’d been using him. She’d never thought about it like that, but she could see it now. It still wasn’t okay. It wasn’t okay. She told herself, but for the moment it was hard to believe what happened to her hadn’t been something she deserved—the price she’d had to pay.
“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want.”
Rilla looked up. “Oh. Sorry. No, it was complicated. Not serious, but complicated.”
His forehead creased and those blue eyes locked tight with hers. “Yeah?”
She tried not to squirm.
“Complicated but not serious. Hmm . . .” He put his chin in his hand. “That’s pretty vague.”
She spun the mug, not looking at him. “I never got close to anyone. I didn’t want to. Then I might get stuck somewhere. People are dangerous. Ya know?”
“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.
They stared at each other, confused.
And realized at the same time. His pager.
“Oh, fuck,” he said, digging it out of his pocket like it was a bomb about to explode.
Her shoulders sank.
He looked up. Grabbed her chin, and pulled her up to his mouth. “Later, West Virginia,” he breathed onto her lips. And was gone.
Later. She turned for home, fingers crossed it was a promise.