“I see your fatty protein, and I raise you”—Ben held up the shiny wrapper of his own protein bar—“deliciousness.” He took a big chomp, spoke with his mouth full: “I fucking love these lady granola bars.”
Alexei had already observed that Ben preferred the bars that were marketed toward women. Like everything about Ben Caravalho, it made Alexei want to smile uselessly into space for a long time.
“Is that your favorite flavor?”
“An excellent question, Lex.” Ben swallowed before continuing. “This Peppermint Bark was, indeed, how they first sucked me in. But it was when I tasted Lemon Zest that I became a convert for life. I’ve been saving my Lemon Zests for special occasions out here, though.”
Ben and Alexei were eating their protein bars under a scrubby patch of manzanita. After leaving the forested slopes of San Jacinto this morning, the trail had transitioned back into full-blown desert. While the open landscape offered dramatic views of the arid valley floor and surrounding San Gabriel Mountains, an angry, dry wind had whipped at their faces all day, the sun scorching and inescapable. Alexei desperately missed the comfort of trees.
At least he had the distraction of Ben.
Even though guilt had eaten at Alexei all morning. He hadn’t truly meant it when he’d agreed to Ben’s pact last night. Which was unlike him. Alexei Lebedev was not a liar anymore. But Ben had seemed almost nervous when he’d made his plea, strangely vulnerable in the moonlight for reasons Alexei didn’t quite understand. And once again, it had been impossible to say no to that face.
Not that it hadn’t been pleasant, walking all this time with Ben.
It simply wasn’t what Alexei had anticipated, and Alexei liked sticking to his plans. He had things he had to think about, lists he had to narrow down. And, well. With Ben at his side, all Alexei found he could think about was…Ben.
It would all work out, though. Ben had saidunless we meet other people we want to hike with. Ben was perhaps the most amiable person Alexei had ever met. He would find another group of hikers to join soon, and Alexei would pretend to do the same, assuring Ben he’d be safe in the desert, and they’d say a very nice good-bye. Meeting Ben Caravalho would be a wonderful story to look back on later. And it had been important, too, Alexei knew. He was proud of the fact that he’d told Ben everything he had last night, that he’d opened up to a stranger and the sky hadn’t fallen. No, meeting Ben had given Alexei lots of moments to be proud of.
They called ittrail magic, the things that appeared on the trail when you needed them most. Caches of water, snacks left at trailheads by local strangers out of the goodness of their hearts. People offering up their homes, giving rides for free.
Maybe meeting Ben was Alexei’s first taste of magic.
“Like, not to be all men’s rights about it,” Ben went on as he crumpled the protein bar wrapper in his hand, “but I like happiness. I deserve the tangy refreshment of a Lemon Zest, too.”
“I agree.”
“I knew you would, Lex.”
He had to admit, theLexthing still got him. Every time Ben used it, this warm, funny buzzing flashed through Alexei’s gut. The buzzing was a reminder of why, eventually, Alexei would have to leave this bit of magic behind.
“Oh man.” Ben cracked his knuckles. “This dude looksamazing.”
Alexei tore his gaze from Ben’s face to see a beanpole of a man approaching down the trail. He slowed when he saw Ben and Alexei, taking off his hat to wipe at his forehead.
“Hey, man,” Ben called out.
“Howdy ho, folks.”
The man must have been in his seventies. One of those fit, tan seventy-somethings who hiked the Pacific Crest Trail instead of doing…whatever else seventy-somethings should be doing. Playing canasta with their grandkids. Donating to their local public radio station.
It took Ben approximately two minutes to discover that this particular seventy-something lived in New Mexico, was a retired real estate broker, and his name was Tumbleweed.
Except obviously this skinny white man’s name was notTumbleweed.
Trail names were bestowed on thru-hikers by other thru-hikers. Some people were real serious about them, but they stressed Alexei out a bit. He had no idea what kind of trail name someone would even think to call him. What one word could possibly sum up his essence.
He thought about how much the sun was making his skin itch today. How much he had been randomly blushing in Ben’s presence. Tomato, maybe. Or something about being quiet? Mouse.
Except Alexei didn’t want to be Tomato Mouse.
He only liked Lex.
Anyway, the point was, Tumbleweed was a silly name.
And Ben had just learned this was Tumbleweed’s second time thru-hiking the PCT. Because of course it was.
Alexei fiddled with his pack. He didn’t know why he was thinking unkind thoughts about Tumbleweed.
