A few minutes later, Max pulls into the driveway.
“So, can you tell me where we’re going?” I ask after climbing into his car. “Or is that a secret?”
He rubs his hands down the steering wheel. “This is going to sound strange, but have you heard of something called forest bathing?”
My eyes widen. “Is that like…skinny dipping?” My mind whirls with possibilities. I really like Max, but going from friends to skinny dipping overnight is a little fast for me.
He laughs and backs out of the driveway, though his neck turns a bit red. “Uh, no. Forest bathing is this Japanese practice my mom learned about. It just means spending time in forests, basically. She’s been taking a lot of long walks at this nature preserve outside of town, and she always comes back happier and more relaxed.” He glances over at me and then at the road, and I realize Max is nervous. He’s twitchy, his left foot bouncing as he drives, and he’s speaking faster than usual. “You’ve been working so hard—webothhave, actually—and I thought some serene time in nature might be nice. Sorry if you thought we were doing something fancy.”
“No, this sounds fun. I’m officially intrigued.”
“Yeah? Okay, cool.”
Max drives us out of town to the preserve. I’ve heard about it, but I’ve never been there. Mom might be a superwoman, but she and Dad aren’t nature people. When we step out of the car, I’m grateful to see that we won’t be roughing it—this is clearly an accessible park made for everyone. Several wood-planked paths break off into the woods, and there are shelters and barbecues.
He raises his eyebrows questioningly to me.
“Oh no, this was your idea. I’ll let you lead the way.”
He takes me down one of the paths, and I have to admit that as soon as the woods close in behind us, a sense of calm fills me. Although it’s evening, the sun doesn’t set for another hour. These woods aren’t densely packed, so I can see through the trees to the fallen logs in the distance and the squirrels scampering along tree branches. And because we’re raised off the ground a few inches on this wooden pathway, I don’t have to worry about walking through poison ivy or thistles.
We walk quietly together, and it’s nice to not feel required to speak constantly. I notice that quite a few trees along the path have become time capsules for past relationships, their trunks filled completely with carved initials and hearts. A lot of couples must have been coming out here for a lot of years to fill up so many trees. It makes me think back to our walk in the wooded area behind the high school. Did anyone ever tell Max the reason most people go back there? I sneak a quick glance at him. Could that possibility be on his mind now?
He catches me looking. “Getting tired?”
“No, this is great.”
“Good, because I’m actually leading us somewhere else. But it involves a few flights of stairs.”
“Stairs? In the middle of the forest?”
He laughs. “Trust me. Come on, we’re almost there.” He picks up speed, which kind of kills the chill forest vibes, but after a few more minutes a huge set of steps comes into focus ahead of us. They must go up at least two stories, and atthe top is another wooden pathway, except that path goes through the treetops.
“Whoa,” I whisper.
“Right? My parents used to bring me here when I was young.” His expression dims just slightly at the mention of them, but he pushes through. “It’s not nearly as popular as it once was. I’m hoping we’ll have it to ourselves, especially with the fair going on right now.”
He takes my hand for a moment, just long enough to tug me in the direction of the stairs, but it’s enough to set my heart beating quicker.
I know it’s disingenuous to feel this way about Max and not tell him. He deserves to know where my head’s at…but the idea of putting myself out there makes me want to leap off the top of these weird forest stairs. He might not be interested in me. Or maybe he isn’t interested in serious relationships at all. I know plenty of guys like that, but I’m not sure I could do something casual.Especiallynot with Max. We have too much history.
I swallow and take a few deep breaths—mostly from this line of thought, but also because these stairs are steep and I’m getting winded. I remind myself that everything will be fine no matter what. The worst-case scenario is that I tell him how I feel—how I’ve always felt—and end up leaving the forest with a broken heart and never-ending embarrassment and misery and then have to run an hours-long D&D game across from said heartbreaker.
Very doable.
A little laugh escapes me as I reach the top of the stairs.
“You’re laughing after that?” he asks. “I need to up my cardio.”
“Just laughing at how, um, how wild this all is. Climbing up into the treetops like this.”
Yep, I’m a total chicken.
We walk along the elevated path, and I’m awed by the tree limbs within arm’s reach. Luckily, they built very high, sturdy railings, but I don’t stray from the middle just in case.
“You know,” Max says, looking over his shoulder since I’m lagging behind, “last night I was thinking about all those games we used to play at your house when we were younger.”
“You mean, when you’d cheat at Mario Uno?”
