“Worse.” Colton strokes a hand through dark hair that, even after a night of camping, looks neatly arranged. He may not aspire to be a senator like his dad, but his hair sayspoliticianthrough and through.
I suck in a breath, relishing the crisp mountain air. “Well, let’s go rafting and forget all about our problems.”
“Done,” Colton says as we start walking.
When Colton and I come around the shack, we find Ji, Missy, and Paige with their backs to us as they talk to a middle-aged raft guide who looks more granola than what I had for breakfast. The man wears toe shoes, cargo shorts, and a faded bucket hat, and he has a deep tan likely from spending 365 days a year under the sun. The wildness in his eyes tells me we’re in for a good ride.
Just the thought of an adrenaline-inducing trip down the river makes me feel like someone’s shoved a ball of energy down my throat. How long has it been since I’ve done something like this?
“Hey, look who made it!” Colton shouts to the group.
Ji and Missy turn around, waving and smiling in my direction, but Paige just glances over her shoulder before quickly turning away and asking the river guide a question.
“Oof,” Colton mutters. “What was that, man?”
“What?” I ask, trying to sound like my newfound ball of energy wasn’t just yanked out of my stomach with a fish hook.
“Paige. She barely looked at you. What is that about?”
I blow out a deep breath, wondering what I should admit to first—that I’ve been a terrible best friend or that I tried to interfere where I shouldn’t have.
“Is this about California?” Colton asks.
My eyebrows furrow. “California?”
Colton clears his throat and sends me one of those polished smiles I’ve seen on his dad’s campaign posters. He pats me on the shoulder. “I’m going to grab you a life jacket and helmet.”
Before I can ask him what he’s not telling me, Ji runs over. “Hey! Mitch, our rafting guide, says he’s ready to give us the rundown and go over a few rules when you’re ready.”
When Colton comes back, I strap on the same yellow jacket and black helmet as everyone else. We all stand in a loose semicircle around Mitch as he walks us through the basics of rafting.
Paige stands across from me, on the other side of our small group, and my eyes are drawn to her like we’re opposite poles of high-powered magnets. It’s been over three days since we’ve seen, called, or texted each other, and standing mere feet from her right now is acute torture. Her rich-brown hair is in two braids, and she’s wearing a sky-blue T-shirt with athletic shorts, making it impossible for me not to notice the toned muscles of her legs.
Paige doesn’t know it, but she’s playing dirty. How am I supposed to get her out of my mind when she’s in her sporty clothes? It’s just one of the dozens of Paige looks that pull me in like a siren song. It takes all my willpower to turn and focus on Mitch while he dives into the dos and don’ts of rafting. My fingers start to drum impatiently on my life jacket.
I need to find time to talk with Paige alone. I have so much I want to say, but most importantly, she needs to know that I am genuinely sorry and that I’m fully on her side, no matter what. Paige deserves happiness, and if she finds that with Ian, then who am I to stop her?
I take a deep breath, trying to replace the weight in my chest with the cool mountain air, but just thinking about Paige with another guy makes me feel like I just dropped Mentos and Diet Coke into my most vital organ and am moments away fromwatching my heart explode. But how I feel doesn’t matter. I promised myself that I would step aside when another man entered her life, and I plan to honor that—I just didn’t imagine it would be this hard.
I’ve never had to share Paige before. She’s dated guys but never seriously, just nameless people I could blur out. I never had to see them, so I pretended they didn’t exist. But now, with Ian, it’s different. He’s not just a face but someone I know who has major history with Paige. Paige loved Ian once. What’s to stop it from happening again?
I choke back the thought that one day, I won’t be the one getting texts when Paige can’t decide which shoes to buy. I won’t be the person she calls to come and kill moths in her room during Colorado’s moth season, and I won’t be the one who gets to see her face when she takes the first bite of her Nana’s red-velvet cheesecake on New Year’s.
I’m not ready to let her go.
But ready or not, I have to put my money—or rather my heart—where my mouth is and actually keep the promise I made six months ago. No matter how I feel, I can’t give Paige the life she wants, and Paige deserves someone who can.
PAIGE
I’m weak.
Despite internal pep talks in my tent, at breakfast, and in the rickety old rafting shack where we buckled into our highly attractive rafting gear, my gaze keeps wandering to Jordan, wondering if he’s missed me like I miss him. I’m like a tetherball. Every time I try to put space between me and Jordan, I come circling back.
I clench my fists around the two straps dangling from my life jacket and remind myself I can do hard things, like resisting the urge to run to Jordan and end this stupid conflict between us. Then I remember why the conflict started, and I’m back to square one—frustrated, upset, and confused over why Jordan won’t support me in my dating choices.
But why does it matter what Jordan thinks? I’ve spent some good quality time with Ian this week, and I know he’s changed. I guess at this point, I just wish things between Jordan and me could be back to normal. Being at odds with him is the worst.
“Now, if you get flung out of the boat for any reason,” Mitch tells us, “just remember to stay calm, don’t panic, and never try to stand up in the water. Instead, get into the white water rafting position, pointing your nose and toes to the sky. Nose up. Toes up, people.” He rattles off the safety instructions as if he could repeat them in his sleep.
