Chapter Nineteen
What do you do after you’ve kissed your best friend?
What do you do after you’ve kissed your coworker whom you’re not allowed to date?
How do you react when you see the guy from last night during the day in front of the entire company?
What you do is eat a protein bar for breakfast and hide in your tent with your phone, typing question after question into Going on Eighteen’s advice column search bar. But this was Mount Everest—where normal relationship advice was not applicable.
I didn’t have much longer to hide out, though, with our all-staff meeting for Rotation One starting in fifteen minutes. I killed the remaining time doing a fancy Katniss braid from a Going on Eighteen tutorial. I’d just have to play it cool the best I could. The most important thing was not doing anything weird or awkward that would give myself away, like turning beet-red as soon as I saw Luke.
Though I was right on time, I was the last one to the meeting. All the seats at the table were gone, but there were a few chairs open around the perimeter, with one of them being between Luke and Theo. Luke glanced at me, a smile playing on his handsome face from something Theo had said.
I froze in the tent door like an idiot. So much for not doing anything weird.
Thom gestured for me to hurry up and take a seat.
Play it cool.
The normal thing to do was to sit in the chair next to Luke, so that’s what I did. I didn’t dare look at him in these close quarters, but his proximity buzzed through me stronger than it ever had before.
Jim launched right into the plan for tomorrow and the rest of Rotation One, which would begin with the clients’ two a.m. wake-up calls with tea and hot towels. He read through the client-guide assignments, which put me, Phurba, and the very experienced Dorje, together to work with Phil, Glissading Glen, and Johnsmith. He went on to cover the logistics of everything from radio check-in points to trouble spots in this year’s route through the icefall. We even went over the meal plans so that all of us could help manage client expectations in case any of them mistakenly thought Randall and his gourmet food were going to be accompanying us higher than Base Camp. Not that they’d starve; they’d still have Cook-Phurba up there with them.
In all, we were there for two hours, which didn’t leave much time for all we needed to do before tonight’s early dinner and bedtime. I didn’t see Luke after the meeting as guides were pretty much sticking to their teams’ sub-camps today, and then I had gone down to Winslowe Expeditions to hang out with Dad and eat dinner.
After finishing a few last-minute things in my tent back in Global City, I settled into my sleeping bag. My thoughts went straight to Luke. Why did it suddenly seem more improbable that we would kiss a second time than to have kissed the first time?
My spirits sank as I considered it. Really, when would we have another chance to be alone together? Base Camp was so crowded, and everyone was always on the lookout for juicy gossip. And to repeat what had happened last night would be reckless. We’d be deliberately doing something that could get us fired. I needed this job badly, not only for the money but for my résumé and to help get a job after the season was over. Though Luke was reluctant about being an Everest guide, he needed the money, too. So did Mingma, for the rest of the earthquake repairs.
I reached for the pair of folded jeans next to me on the floor of the tent, fishing through the pockets to find the coloring sheet from yesterday. I unfolded it, smoothed it out carefully, and read the words over and over for reassurance.
My heart still belongs to you.
Eventually, I put the paper away and turned off my headlamp. Not long after, there were footsteps outside my tent, and then it shook all around me in a one-two rhythm.
My insides leaped.
“Come in,” I whispered.
Tonight, clouds covered the moon and stars, and when Luke clicked off his headlamp inside my tent, it was pitch black. He sat on my bed cross-legged. I could tell because I was doing the same thing and our knees were touching.
Neither of us moved. I was all but holding my breath. Even though we were in physical contact, it felt as if there was a crevasse between us.
“So, what was Greg doing at Global last night?” Luke asked. “Because I know he didn’t come for the eggplant.”
I laughed. Okay, this was good. Joking was better than awkward silence. “I think he actually likes it.”
“No.”
“Yes. Doc invited him up, and he said he wanted to see how I was doing. She thinks he has empty-nest syndrome.”
“Good thing you moved only a third of a mile away.”
“Yeah, good thing,” I said, briefly wondering if Amy had any symptoms like that after they took her away. Doubtful. She hadn’t wanted me in the first place, so why would she have had remorse when we were separated?
The silence slipped back between us. I swallowed and then reached bravely across the invisible crevasse. Luke did, too, our palms meeting in the middle. We matched our hands, then he twisted his ever so slightly so that when he closed his fingers, they were threaded through mine. My pulse jumped from sixty to a hundred.
He brought his arm back to his body, which pulled me in to him. Our hands were still locked together, pinned between our chests with our faces close enough that I could smell his wintergreen breath. Inch by inch, we leaned closer together until our lips brushed, then pressed. The kiss was gentle, and our tongues intertwined naturally. All my senses melted into him. His headlamp slid off his head, thumping as it hit the tent floor.
I unzipped my sleeping bag and spread it across us like a blanket. As we burrowed beneath it, I was sadly aware that he wouldn’t be able to stay for long. We would be starting up the icefall in less than seven hours. I already dreaded the moment when he’d have to go back to his own tent.
Outside, a yak lowed, and the neck bells of its herd played a short melody on the wind.
“So where’s that selfie stick of yours?” he asked in a peppy voice all wrong for the moment.
“What?”
“You heard me. Let’s do a tent self-Circ.”
He propped himself up on his elbow to feel around for his headlamp. I pushed him back down. “You said you’re not into that.”
“For you, I’ll do it. And willingly.”
“Not right now. It’s late.”
“What better time than the present? Come on, let’s get that self-Circ stick.”
He felt around for his headlamp again. I knew right where it had fallen. I snatched it up and held it tight against my chest. “No. I don’t want to.”
“Okay, then, show it to me.”
He attempted to swipe the headlamp from me. “Show me your self-Circ stick, Emily Winslowe.”
“No way.”
He gripped the headlamp, trying to pry my fingers loose. I locked my arms tight to my sides like chicken wings. I fought valiantly, but also silently, since there were client tents five feet from mine, but in the end, Luke was able to wrench his headlamp from my grip. He shined it around the full perimeter of my tent.
“Where is it?”
I shrugged.
“Unless you produce a self-Circ stick in the next five seconds, you’re going to owe me big time. Five, four—”
“Hey, wait—”
“Three, two, one.” He shined the headlamp directly in my face. “Gotcha!” he said, clearly thrilled he’d sleuthed out my caper. “So now you have to do something for me.”
“What?” I growled.
“You have to answer a question.”
“What?”
“How’d you know that I’d been in a co-self-Circ?”
I scowled.
“You weren’t Circ-snooping, were you?” he taunted.
I scowled harder and crossed my arms.
“Adorable. I would have never thought you had it in you.”
I should have been ashamed about being caught, but how could I be when he was so pleased about it all? I reached over and clicked his headlamp off, and we cuddled back down beneath my sleeping bag. His body shook with muffled laughter.
“What?” I asked.
“I was thinking about you on the client hike, how you pretended to look through your backpack and everything.”
I elbowed him hard. In response, he grabbed my arm, yanked me on top of him, and kissed me with an intensity that made me completely forget why I’d elbowed him in the first place. Then he pulled back slightly, leaving me breathless and yearning for more.
“So,” he said. “Who would you say wins YCCM?”
“We already settled that. I did.”
“No,” he said. “For this YCCM.” His hand went to my face, tracing my jawline exactly as he had with the tsampa.
The air between us transformed. Now, it was charged with electricity like a summer evening thunderstorm was approaching.
“I was the one who came to find you at the UW camp last night,” I said.
I reached up to his hand on my face, covering it with mine. It was his left hand, the one with the bracelet. I touched the smooth circle of aged cord and then slid my fingers beneath it.
“Well,” he said, with a deep exhale, “I told you before that I came back here to check on Mom and Pasang, but that wasn’t the only reason. So I win because I was the one who traveled all the way from Seattle to Everest Base Camp with the hope that I would catch you. And I mean really catch you.”
My stomach dropped, then rose again. His hands slid down my back, constricting around me until I was tight against his chest, and he didn’t relax his grip once I was there.