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It had warmed up as the day went on and the sun was baking us. Her face was pink, and her shoulders were getting red. Sometimes the trail would cut through a wooded area, but for the most part we had no coverage from the sun. She’d taken her hoodie off an hour ago and shoved it into her backpack. She had on a white tank top and some shorts. Her hair was in a ponytail pulled through a black hat with the logo from Mike’s gym.

It looked a lot better on her than it did on Mike.

“We should put sunblock on,” I said.

“Do you have some?” she asked.

I unzipped my satchel and pulled out a tube.

“Thanks,” she said, taking it. “I put some on before I left the house, but I think I’m sweating it off. I didn’t think we’d be out here this long. How many miles have we gone?”

I looked at my watch. “Four.”

“He said an hour and a half, so we’re probably almost done,” she said, squirting some lotion into her hand before giving the bottle back to me.

I was getting hungry. I wanted to ask if she wanted to go get something to eat after but immediately shot the idea down. It was one thing to be on this walk that we hadn’t intended to do without anyone else. It was something different to make plans with her afterward. Alone, just the two of us—no. If it were Becca, it wouldn’t have mattered. But with Larissa it just did. I couldn’t explain why.

I started putting on sunblock while she pulled out her water bottle and crouched to offer some to Woofarine, but he didn’t want it again.

“He hasn’t had anything to drink,” she said, standing. “Should we be concerned about it?”

“We’re almost done,” I said, slapping lotion on the back of my neck. “He’s probably okay.”

She looked down at our dog, worried. He didn’t look worried. He looked ready to continue the charge. I don’t know where all the energy came from, he’d dragged us for the last four miles.

She watched him while she tipped her water into her mouth. Then she gagged.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“So bad.” She spit it out. “Sooooo bad.”

“What do you mean it’s bad?”

“It tastes like blood.” She grimaced.

I put the sunblock away and pulled out my water and tried it. I had to spit it out too. “Rusty pipes,” I said, wiping my chin.

“Is it dangerous?”

I shook my head. “No, it just tastes like shit. No wonder he won’t drink it.”

“Gross.” She blanched.

I dumped my water into the grass. “When I was in grade school, the water in the drinking fountain tasted like that. If you got thirsty enough to drink it, the kids would make fun of you and call you Vampire Boy for the rest of the day.”

She laughed, putting her water bottle back into her bag.

I nodded at it. “You’re not gonna dump it?”

“No, I’m gonna keep it in case I need to wash my hands. You never know what rotten thing Woofie might get ahold of.”

She wasn’t wrong about that.

We started walking again. Woofarine was still pulling on the leash.

“This would be a nice first date,” I said, looking at some wildflowers.

“No. You cannot take someone on a hike for a first date,” she said.