We neared the crest, and as I continued to pretendthe hike wasn’t killing me, Darius, who was a few paces ahead of me (and notbreathing hard at all!), stopped and looked to me with a brilliant smile on hisface.
“Here it is,” he said, then turned his head to look backover the crest.
I stopped beside him and didn’t, at first, look where he waslooking.
I was watching him.
It was our first date.He’d taken me up to the mountains.And if the big backpack and small cooler he was carrying was any indication, wewere going to have a picnic.
At least, I hoped we were going to have a picnic.That hikewas long, and most of it was uphill.
I was a cheerleader.It wasn’t like I wasn’t in shape.
But…dang.
Seriously, altitude was no joke.
Now I was hungry, thrilled we were finally there, even morethrilled the way back was all downhill, all of this while being thrilled I waswith Darius at the same time hoping the massive effort I’d put into gettingready that morning hadn’t been in vain.
In one of our five (yesfive, in less than thatmany days!) phone conversations since he asked me out at Fortnum’s, Darius hadwarned me I needed to wear comfortable clothes for our date.He told me we weregoing into the mountains, the hike was a little over a mile, and it’d take someeffort.
Although on the face of it that sounded romantic, it washarder than heck to figure out what to wear during a date like that.
So hard, my sister Lena and best friend Toni had spent twohours rejecting outfits I tried on until I found the right one.
We’d decided jean shorts and a cute little top that wasorange and had a gold design in it.It was gathered at the high neckline andheld up by a spaghetti strap that ran through the front and back of thematerial.
I wore my hair straightened, and I’d twisted it up in amessy topknot.But I was worried that the wisps of hair around my face that I’dlaid down so carefully had now peeled away and gone curly and made it all lookjust plain messy.
Since Darius didn’t stop looking at whatever “here” was, Iturned my head that way.
And caught my breath.
In front of me, a wide basin lay, flanked by mountain peaksand filled with wildflowers.
“Oh my God,” I whispered reverently.
“Hank found it,” Darius told me.
Hank being Lee Nightingale’s older brother, a guy everyoneknew even if he’d already graduated because he was a) a talented athlete, b)super sweet and c) gorgeous, so he was also d) very popular.
Hank was also the antithesis of Lee’s bad boy.Perfectgrades.Perfect boyfriend (reportedly).The boy next door.The good guy.
“We hike up here all the time,” Darius went on.
“It’s amazing,” I told him.
He took my hand, and I looked to him.
“C’mon,” he said softly, his eyes on me in a way I suddenlydidn’t care if the wisps around my face got too wispy.
Actually, the way he was gazing at me, I felt the kind ofbeautiful you just always knew you were, no matter what your hair looked likeor your outfit or whatever.
You could be in the throes of delirium from a bad flu,sweaty and nasally, raw-nosed and croaky, having a wracking cough, and Dariuswould look at you like that.
No.
Look atmelike that.
