He tugged another strap, pulling me slightly off balance. “The exposure gets intense after the first pitch.”
I had to steady myself against his chest. “We can forget about the whole climbing thing and go back to the resort. They have muffins there. And mimosas.”
Noah’s hands stilled on my thigh straps, looking up. “Are you even listening? This is serious.”
“I’d listen better with muffins.” I tugged at the straps over my shoulders, which were definitely tighter than they needed to be. “Just saying.”
When he straightened, his face was inches from mine, close enough that I could see the flecks of darker blue in his irises. The tiny scar above his left eyebrow. The way his breathing slowed.
“One wrong move up there ...”
“Could kill me. Got it.” I met his gaze directly, not wilting under the intensity of his attention. “But here’s the thing, Noah. My parents didn’t raise their daughter to back down from a challenge. So let’s stop talking and do this.”
“Okay then.” The transformation in Noah’s expression was like watching a wall crack. He didn’t smile exactly, but there was a flicker in his eyes. Noah strapped himself into his own harness, the muscles in his forearms flexing as he adjusted the buckles. His worn jeans hugged his thighs.
“We’re not leaving this practice wall until you get to the top.” Noah handed me the rope he was threading through my belay loop.
“Consider it done.”
Another crack formed in Noah’s wall as I stared up at thephysical one in front of me. The chalk marks left by previous climbers traced ghostly paths upward.
“First rule of climbing, maintain three points of contact with the wall at all times,” he instructed, clipping a carabiner to his belt with the confidence of a man who actually knew how to both spell and pronounce car-a-bin-er.
“Like Spiderman?”
Noah frowned. “More like …” He splayed himself against the wall.
“So, like Spiderman.”
His frown deepened. “Just watch.”
Noah positioned himself on the climbing wall, one hand on a yellow plastic hold, his other on a blue one. He propped his foot on a red nub barely big enough to balance his little toe. “Once you have your three contact points, you just propel forward, letting your momentum carry you upward.”
“Propel. Momentum. Upward.” I gave him a thumbs-up. “You know, if you’d just embrace the Spiderman thing, I bet I could get you even more TikTok followers than Kevin.”
Ignoring me, Noah took his position. With fluid grace that made it look ridiculously easy, he scaled the entire wall as if gravity were merely a suggestion. His movements were both economical and precise, each reach and step calculated for maximum efficiency.
Once at the top, he pushed off with both legs and let the cable attached to his waist slowly lower him back down to the floor. He landed with barely a sound. “See?”
“So exactly like Spiderman. How’d you learn to climb like that?”
“Practice.” Noah unhooked himself from the safety line.
“He’s just being modest,” said Diego.
“Noah started climbing when he was six,” added Jenn. “Ever since his parents built this place from scratch.”
At the mention of his parents, Noah’s hands went still. For a split second, his carefully maintained mask slipped, and I saw something raw flicker across his face.
“So, this is your parents’ place?”
Noah didn’t look up, his undivided attention on the rope. “Was.” Apparently, the circumference of his rope coil wasn’t quite precise enough because he let it fall loose and started coiling all over again.
“They started with just a couple of wooden kayaks and some climbing gear,” said Jenn. “So it’s kinda in his blood.”
My stomach twisted as the pieces clicked into place. I glanced at Noah, who was still very focused on coiling that rope, his shoulders tense.
“So, your parents ...”
