“How come?” he probes, glancing at me with a raised eyebrow.
“I don’t really know the area, and I thought it wouldn’t be a good idea to go on paths I don’t know alone,” I admit, feeling sheepish about my lack of adventure.
Misha nods thoughtfully. “I usually hike alone, but I’d love to have a hiking buddy. So, if you want to join, you’re more than welcome.”
I laugh, a puff of white breath in the cool air. “I don’t think I can keep up with you. I hear your usual paths are way trickier than this one, and I’m already panting.”
“Well, I can certainly adapt it for you if you want to join, and I think you’ll have more endurance in no time.”
“Maybe…” I chuckle, “… but I doubt it. My legs are already shaking.”
Misha pauses, his silence hanging in the air.
“What?” I ask, coming to a standstill.
Please don’t let him be considering taking me back already.
But before I can say something else, he confesses with a mischievous grin, “Sorry, I have a dirty mind.”
My laughter bursts forth, genuine and unguarded. “Oh my God, Misha.”
He joins in, his laughter mingling with mine in the cool morning air as he pulls me back into a walk. “Sorry, but hey, I didn’t say anything. You were the one bringing it up.”
We continue laughing, the sound echoing lightly through the trees as we make our way up the trail.
After walking for a while longer in comfortable silence, we finally reach the summit. It’s still draped in the darkness of the early morning, but the sky is sprinkled with stars like scattered glitter.
With a hint of pride, Misha announces, “Here we are.” He releases me and stretches out his arms, turning in a circle as if he wants me to take in the view.
“Wow, it’s really… dark,” I quip, smirking at him.
He glares at me playfully before he drops his backpack and pulls out a blanket, spreading it on the grassy ground before sitting and tugging me down beside him. He switches off his headlamp, and I marvel at how his features are just visible—softened edges in the low light.
A shiver races through me, more from the dropping temperatures than exhaustion.
“Do you have another jacket with you?” Misha asks, frowning at me.
“No, only the one I’m wearing.” I hug myself for warmth, rubbing my upper arms.
“You’re freezing because you were sweating on the way up, and now that you’re not moving, it’s getting cold with the damp jacket,” Misha explains, then instructs firmly, “Take it off.”
“But that’s—” I start to protest.
“Take off the jacket,” he repeats, a gentle firmness in his tone.
Reluctantly, I peel it off, and Misha pulls off his jacket, draping it around my shoulders. Gratefully, I slip my arms through, the warmth enveloping me instantly as he zips it up for me.
“Thank you,” I murmur, feeling the heat start to seep back into my bones. “But now you’re going to be cold.”
“Don’t worry, I didn’t sweat.”
“Show-off,” I mutter, making him chuckle.
Misha pulls a down vest from his backpack and puts it on. Then he hands me his water bottle. “Here, drink something.”
“I have my own,” I reply, holding up my bottle.
With a chuckle, he teases, “Miss Independent, please let me take care of you, okay? You may have water, but I have the holy grail for hikes.”
