“What, so you’re the only one who gets to name animals around here?” I asked, still typing.
“No. Yes. What are you even talking about?”
I pointed at the wolf-dog. “You named that particular animal Yeti.”
“She’s a dog.”
“So?”
“So?”
“So wolf dogs get names but birds don’t?”
“She’s not a wolf dog, she’s a dog dog.”
“You’re trying to change the subject.”
“I don’t even know what the subject is!”
“The subject is our friend Kevin, the Northern Goshawk.” I held up my phone, turning the screen around so Noah couldsee it. “Kevin now has his own TikTok account, Instagram page, YouTube channel, and …” I turned my phone back around so I could read the numbers. “Two hundred and seventy-two dollars in donations to the Northern Goshawk Conservation Fund, thanks to his GoFundMe.”
Noah opened his lips to say something, then snapped his mouth shut. He spun on his heels and stomped down the trail.
Waving toward the distant tree, I yelled, “Bye, Kevin!” I made sure to yell it loudly enough for Noah to hear me.
More hiking.
Then, more after that.
And finally … more hiking.
When we took a quick break to sip some water, Yeti took off into the woods to chase a squirrel or something.
“Is she going to be okay?” I asked. “Taking off on her own?”
Noah watched as she disappeared into the trees. “She knows these mountains better than I do. But she always comes back when I need her.”
We’d stopped on a part of the trail where there was a break in the trees. A long-range mountain view stretched out in front of me. “Since we’re stopped, I might as well grab some more authentic Colorado content.”
I began executing my tried-and-true arsenal of selfie poses, nailing the perfect casual-yet-adventurous vibe. In the reflection of my phone screen, I caught Noah studying me. His expression sat somewhere between fascination and dismay. More-so dismay.
“You know, if you want to capture the authentic Colorado, maybe you should take more pictures of actual Coloradoinstead of pictures of yourself all the time. You’re not the only pretty thing to look at around here.”
I looked up from my phone, surprised. “You think I’m pretty?”
Noah frowned, realizing what he’d said. His expression closed like a steel trap. “I didn’t say that.”
“So you don’t think I’m pretty?”
“I didn’t say that either.” A flush of color spread across his cheekbones like a sunrise over the mountains. Noah Barrett was BLUSHING!
“Am I not mountainy enough for you?”
“What? No.”
“Is it because I wax my underarms?”
“No.”
