I glance down and Daniel’s standing at the base of the rocks. Oh.
He’s wearing sunglasses, a Cal cap, and hiking shorts with a plain white tee. A backpack and good, well-worn hiking boots. I’m nervous at the sight of him.
“I am stupidly determined to make it to the top of this thing,” I say with my hands on my hips. “Apparently I have a death wish for my fortieth birthday.”
Daniel laughs, a low chuckle that brings to mind dim lighting and brown liquor. “On my fortieth, I went to New Orleans with the stomach flu. For Mardi Gras. So, yeah, I also had a death wish apparently.”
Another fact nugget. He’s at least forty. And an Aquarius.
“Hey, and sorry. El told me this was supposed to be a solo trip for you. I swear I don’t mean to keep bumping into you like this.”
It sounds genuine but also like he knows exactly what to say to put me at ease. I wave a hand, batting the apology away. “Where’s the crew?”
“None of them wanted to go on a hike after last night.” He winces. “Not the best planning on my part. I left them to nurse the hangovers and I’m going back with the promise that they’ll have breakfast burritos ready for me.”
“Great boss move,” I say as I take a swig from my water bottle. I can’t tell because of his sunglasses, but I sense his eyes on me and my bare legs beneath my cutoffs. I am immensely grateful for moisturizing my knees before the hike. And for my good sports bra and jaunty red socks above my hiking boots, which hopefully hint at an interesting personality.
He climbs up to me incredibly fast. This is a man who has spent his whole life doing athletic things effortlessly. When he reaches me, he assesses the large rock. “I’m guessing you don’t have climbing equipment?”
“Uh, no.”
We share a huffed exchange of laughter. Then he says, “Well, unless you have some superhuman upper-body strength or web shooters, I think you’re going to need me to boost you up.”
I don’t answer right away. Do I want to climb up this thing that badly? Feels extremely awkward to let him help me do this. To have him touch my body?
But he is the one…the man who will soon know everything there is to know about me.
“Let’s do it,” I say, jogging in place and cracking my neck to make light of it.
He puts his backpack down. “Okay. And apologies, I wasn’t able to shower this morning, because…well, yurt.”
“I also live that yurt life. It’s fine,” I say, trying to keep the lightness up.Buoyant, babyyyy.
There’s a brief moment of limbo where we’re not quite sure where to begin but then Daniel gets into a lunge and pats his thigh. “Step on here.”
I do. And once my foot is on there, he grabs ahold of my arm. “Okay, now’s the time to hoist.”
Maybe I wasn’t expecting my fated to be funny, but he is. The delivery is absurd and I start laughing and have to step back down. After I gather myself, I step up again, and once he has me steady, he says, “Right, gonna lift you now, don’t freak out.”
And with that he does this little maneuver of holding me by the waist and lifting me above his head. “Step on my shoulder!”
I do it before I can think too hard about it, feeling his handprints burned into my waist long after I step onto his shoulder. Once I’m up there, it’s a quick scramble to the top of the rock.
“Holy shit!” I cry out between pants. “Thank you!”
From below—“Yeah!” It’s not like I climbed some huge mountainous peak, but it feels pretty breathtaking to be up on this small summit. I can see the entire desert stretched out around me. The twisty Joshua trees the only spots of dark green. The sky an impossibly bright blue.
Before I can relish in the view for too long, Daniel scrambles up right next to me. I’m so stunned I just step back. “What the hell?” I finally sputter, looking down.
He looks guilty. “Idoclimb…”
“Okay, okay, jock.”
“Also, I’m a bit competitive,” he says. “It’s the most American thing about me.”
I laugh. “Well, thanks for helping me up when you could have stomped over my head in one leap.”
He grins widely. “You’re welcome.” We stand side by side, taking it all in. He eventually pulls out his phone to take a few photos. “Sending this to the work group chat so they can all feel inferior.” Again, his deadpan delivery makes me laugh. Then he holds out his hand. “Fancy a photo of you for posterity?”
