“I’ve got a yoga studio, so I make my own schedule,” she supplies before I get the chance to ask. “Joshua’s in finance—hesayshe’s not going to work while we’re out here, but I’ll believe that when I see it.”
“My boss threatened to fire me if I tried to work out here,” I say, and she laughs.
The trail narrows as it curves around a sizable rock, so we go single file for a bit. When it widens again, Zoe says, “So, first impressions of everyone: kiss, marry, kill?”
I’ve just taken a sip from my water bottle and nearly choke on my own laughter. “What?”
“You know! The game?” she says, laughing—at me or with me, I’m not sure. “You pick someone to kiss, someone to marry, someone to kill.”
“Going on first impressions only?” I ask, and she nods. “I think I’d kiss the coleader—Matteo, right?” He’s as attractive as Thorn, but also has an Italian accent. That said, there’s something about him that kind of shoutsphobia of commitment. “One of the Portland guys might make good marriage material?” I offer, because they seem nice and stable—not to mention they’re into fancy coffee, like me, as I learned from the group intros.
“Let me guess,” she says, eating my answers up. “You’d kill the uptight hiking guide?”
“I’d rather not kill anyone,” I say. “We’d be lost out here without Thorn—but—if something did happen to him, at least I could wander the woods in peace without him telling me to put my phone away!”
She laughs. “Both very good points.”
A bird flits across the path before settling onto a high branch.
“What about you?” I ask.
“Oh, for me? I’d go with Joshua on all three,” she says with an eye roll.
I’m not quite sure what to make of that answer—they seem like the perfect couple on the surface, but she kind of wants to kill him? Maybe the undercurrent of tension I sensed earlier wasn’t just projection after all.
Around the next bend, the world brightens as the woods open to clear blue sky. When I get closer, I see the sky isn’t the main attraction at all: it’s a rest stop with a postcard-perfect view of a trio of mountains off in the distance.
Thorn leads the way, the sporty girls just behind him, and then comes to a stop next to a plaque that readsHELEN THERESA PEAK SCENIC OVERLOOK. The whole clearing is paved in flat gray stones, and there are enough benches—or smooth rock ledges—for the eleven of us to sit and take a break.
“Good job so far, everyone,” Thorn says once we’re all gathered in the clearing. “We’ve been trekking through Valerie Forest today—it’s the namesake for this national park and spans a sizable acreage of the northwestern part of this loop. What you see off to the southeast is Helen Theresa Peak, along with two lesser peaks known as the Two Sisters. The Mackenzie Lake Loop circles these mountains, so you’ll be seeing them again throughout the trek. Beyond them is Mount Valerie—that’s the mountain we’ll be climbing on our last big hike. Now would be a good time for pictures and snacks before we continue on to our campsite.”
Zoe raises her hand. “Exactly how much longer do we have to go?” she asks. “And when you say ‘campsite,’ you mean ‘glampsite,’ right?”
Thorn’s face clouds over. “Approximately two more hours. But I’m sorry—I don’t understand the last question?”
“Glampsite,” she repeats, looking to her fiancé for support, then tome. “Glamping?”
“Glamping, like ‘glamorous camping,’?” I add, and now Thorn’s stormy face is trained on mine. “It’s a thing. Like luxurious little semipermanent tents where you sleep on real beds, with high-end pillows and bedding and string lights, but maybe also with a view of the stars through a translucent roof?”
It’s possible this definition is on the tip of my tongue because I did my own research the night of the breakup, naïvely hoping it was the sort of trip Caden had signed up for.
If only.
“Um…no,” Thorn says, clearly perplexed, running a hand over his stubbled jaw. “That is not at all what this is. What did you think the tent bundles were for?”
“The…tent bundles?”
She glances around; as soon as she spots the unfamiliar bundle affixed to Joshua’s backpack, her confusion turns to panic.
“Babe!” Zoe shrieks as she swats her fiancé on the shoulder. “You told me it would be likeglamping!”
“Emphasis on thelike,” Joshua says with a shrug. “Except more like just…regular camping?”
Yikes.
Everyone splits off into the groups they arrived with for the break, leaving me on my own. I would stick with Zoe, but she and Joshua are already off to the side, fighting and trying to hide it.
I pull out my phone again—Thorndidsay this would be a good place for pictures, so I shouldn’t get my head bitten off this time—and head over to take a quick video of just the mountains, then one more with myself in frame. To my relief, I’m not the only one trying to capture the moment: one of the coffee bros has an actual paparazzi-caliber camera with him.
