Her body detonated, and she moaned through her orgasm. Kirby kissed her softly, gently, peppering her face and neck and shoulders until Mara could breathe again.
“Did the thought of beating me in a race just make you come?” Kirby asked after a few seconds.
Mara laughed again. Laughter came so easily now. She’d never been this happy.
Kirby had learned so much about Mara in the four months since the Olympics had ended.
She’d learned that Mara was as competitive about canasta as she was about racing.
She’d learned that Mara kept all her medals and trophies in a set of tubs from Costco, which Mara had moved from her own garage to her mom’s after she’d sold her condo.
Kirby had met Mara’s dad and learned exactly how Mara had ended up so closed off, but she’d also met Mara’s mom, who was brilliant and kind and pretty chill about having raised the best cross-country skier in the world.
She’d learned that Mara was terrible at giving interviews about their now public relationship, consistently answering questions about it with the equivalent of a “none of your fucking business.” Kirby did the interviews now, which suited them both just fine.
She’d learned Mara was generous, intentional, loving, and honestly such a wonderful girlfriend. If Mara would agree to sleep in until eight occasionally, Kirby would have said she was the best girlfriend ever.
And she’d learned that Mara loved to camp, hike, run, and mountain bike, and took all those endeavorsveryseriously.
“We only have the switchbacks left,” Mara said. “Then we’ll be at Tonsina Point.”
Kirby was dragging on the hike, and Mara’s impatience was slipping through.
But Kirby felt like she’d hardly slept in three weeks, she’d been so busy. Plus, she had new anti-anxiety meds on board, and they’d been making her feel groggier than usual. It wasn’t a perfect fix, but she was working hard with her doctors to get the right formula of therapy and medicine figured out.
“If you don’t want me to be slow, don’t wake me up with an orgasm before the sun’s even up,” Kirby grumbled.
“The sun comes up in the middle of the night here, Bonham. I woke you up mid-morning. Don’t be hyperbolic.”
Six thirty was not mid-morning.
Kirby grabbed Mara’s hand just to touch her. To be closer. They started to make the steep descent down a long series of winding boardwalks.
Large ferns, mossy rocks, and huge trees bordered the trail, like walking through the set ofJurassic Park. They finally reached the bottom of the hill and crossed a bridge.
Kirby stopped in her tracks, completely speechless.
In front of them was the most beautiful panoramic ocean view.
“See? Wasn’t this worth it?” Mara said. “We could even run back to the trailhead to warm up for?—”
“Mara,shhh.” Kirby dragged her forward by the hand, over the wide expanse of pebbled beach, to get them closer to the sparkling water’s edge.
Tall green grass flanked the beach before the landscape climbed back into mountains blanketed by rich, dark forest.
Once Kirby had pulled Mara a couple hundred feet closer to the water, she stopped at a small knoll that was adorned with a huge sun-bleached log. She plopped down in front of the log and leaned back against it. Mara sat beside her.
The log blocked their view of the other hikers who were spending their morning at Tonsina Point as well. It felt like theywere the only two people in the world. Just them, the water, and the mountains.
And, God, the mountains. Across the bay, white-tipped peaks seemed to rise out of the ocean like some mythical god had lifted them straight from the sea. Seeing the snowy mountaintops, glaciers, and ice fields made Kirby itch for her skis, even though it was only July. She’d never missed skiing in the summer as much as she did right then. Training and roller skiing wasn’t cutting it. She was ready to compete.
She glanced over at Mara. Mara was looking at her, not the tide or the seabirds flying around or the mountains.
Mara’s cheeks were rosy from the warmth of the sun and the exertion of the hike. Her hair was in two long French braids, but it was frizzy around her face. She was wearing hiking boots, tall socks, shorts, and a lime green sports bra. She’d pushed her silver sunglasses up onto the top of her head.
She was beautiful. Just as inspiring as the view. Just as sacred to Kirby.
“I love you, Kirby,” Mara said.
