“Elevated heart rates detected.” Jamie chirps three and a half hours later.
For the fifth goddamn time.
His tone is perfectly polite, and perfectly oblivious to the murder eyes boring into the back of my neck.
If looks could kill, I’d be a smoldering crater.
“Amelia, yours is the highest,” Jamie adds helpfully. “Please consider a brief rest or reduce pace.”
I glance back. Amelia’s ponytail is hanging on by dear life, and her glasses are a little fogged up. She catches my eye and flops dramatically onto the ground off the trail, arms spread like she’s making a snow angel in dirt.
“That’s it. I’m done. Leave me for the bears.”
“Yeah.” Grey drops his monster backpack with a loud thud—seriously, what does he have in there, a cast-iron skillet?—and sits on it like a throne. “Fuck this.”
Oliver huffs a laugh as he wipes his glasses on his shirt, and I feel a pang of guilt.
Okay, maybe I undersold the vertical gain.
“It’s only a little farther, I swear, ten minutes max…” I start.
Oliver lifts his wrist. “Jamie, time to summit?”
“Approximately thirty minutes remaining, Oliver! The final push is steep, think of it as nature’s stair-master with a view that’ll make your glutes forgive you.”
I cringe. “It’ll be so worth it?—”
“Nope.” Grey cuts me off, stands, and offers Amelia his hand. “We’re turning around. Fancy restaurant, air-conditioning, and dessert instead of trail mix.”
Amelia takes his hand, and he pulls her to her feet. She’s still visibly winded, but determined.
“No! We’re so close. I want the sunset. My feet are just… protesting.”
Before Grey can play white knight, I shrug off my pack and shove it at Oliver—who frowns like I just handed him a sack of bricks—and grab Amelia’s pack to throw it at Grey. He catches it on reflex, but opens his mouth to probably tell me exactly where I can shove it.
But I just crouch, patting my back. “Hop on, Bug.”
“No way, I’m too heavy!”
“Please. I deadlift you for fun on leg day.” I wiggle my shoulders. “Come on. Birthday piggy-back.”
She hesitates one more second, then scrambles up. Her thighs clamp around my waist, arms looping over my shoulders, and suddenly the extra weight feels like nothing because she’s warm and smells like sunscreen, Twizzlers, and home.
Oliver mutters, “Great, now we’re each carrying an extra twenty pounds of backpack karma.”
Grey flips me off but falls in step behind us, grumbling under his breath about “stubborn mountain goats.”
We trudge onward, and it isn’t long until the chirp of the birds sounds more like mocking, because damn, my quads burn, and sweat is dripping down my spine. But then Amelia distracts me by kissing the spot behind my ear and resting her chin on my shoulder, and I shiver.
All four watches buzz at once.
“Elevated heart rate detected,” Jamie announces cheerfully. “Misha’s the highest.” Amelia’s laugh vibrates against my back, and Jamie adds, “Amelia’s has actually steadied.”
Oliver wheezes a laugh, Grey snorts despite himself, and I roll my eyes as my chest warms.
Four hours, murder eyes, piggy-back rides, and no regrets.
Best birthday hike ever.
