Chapter 25
LOLA
“You can do this,” Maisie says, leaning in the driver’s side window and smooshing her hands on either side of my face, so my cheeks flatten under her palms. Her brown eyes stare into mine as she says, “You are so brave. Crank your motivation playlist. You can do this!”
“Thank you,” I say, but it comes out warbled because I don’t have full use of my lips.
I don’t actually feel that brave, and I’m tempted to point out the fact that I haven’t really accomplished anything yet, but I don’t.
I let my best friend think the best of me as I pull out of our apartment’s parking lot and head over to the highway, then onto the road that’s going to take me up the mountain.
Less than a month ago, I was making this drive with a trunk full of glamping supplies and a suitcase full of the fun, cute outfits I’d thought I’d wear while camping in the mountains. Less than a month ago, I hated the idea of being up there, of trying to do anything in the outdoors.
But now, I notice that there’s something almost sweet about the air the further I get out of the city, and I crack the windows, letting the cool mountain breeze ruffle my hair as I drive.
At first, I do what Maisie said; I crank my motivation playlist and dance in the front seat, shimmying my shoulders and singing at the top of my lungs. Anything to keep the trepidation at bay.
Then, as I get closer and closer to his place — or rather, where the road bends and I know I’ll have to pull over and start hiking out to his place — my heart starts to beat harder, thudding heavily in my chest.
I’m doing my best to be brave, like Maisie said, but I can’t stop the memories from flashing through my head. The look on Rowan’s face as he stood by the door.
As much as we connected with one another during the week I was there, and as much as I want him to be a consistent part of my life, I don’t know him well enough to know for certain that he regrets kicking me out.
Maybe he’s more than happy with his solitary life up in the mountains. Maybe the time I spent with him was nothing more than a hassle, and he couldn’t wait to get rid of me.
But… no.
He definitely didn’t want to get rid of me, not when I had my legs wrapped around his waist. Not when his teeth were scraping over my neck, his breath dancing over my sensitive skin, goosebumps appearing at the suggestion of his touch.
Rowan isn’t the type of guy to jump into bed without it meaning something more.
He told me as much, and that night, with my nails scratching over his skin, didn’t mean nothing. It was more than just sex, with his body flush against mine, his lips pressing on the soft spot beneath my ear as I gasped his name.
“You take it from me so well.” The sound of his voice turned me frantic, pushed me closer to a dizzying height. When I asked him to keep talking, he’d buried his face in my neck, and, with his scruffy beard rough against my skin, said, “I want you to come for me, Lola.”
I’ve had casual hookups.
What happened with Rowan was the furthest thing from that. The look on his face the next day was one of betrayal, not of ambivalence. And I’m not going to let my fear hold me back from giving this one more try.
I park my car along the side of the road, just like I did before, and lock it, taking a deep breath and hoping I don’t see any bears on my way up to his cabin.
The hike is about three miles long, mostly uphill, and impossibly tranquil.
I almost wish I’d brought my camera along — maybe I could make it a sort of sequel to the Ecotra video I posted — but then I think better of it.
The whole point of that video was that disconnecting is what’s good for you.
Experiencing life without the need to quantify or capture it.
By the time I see the slight curve of the cabin’s natural roof, I’m dripping with sweat and breathing hard, my muscles pleasantly surprised by more exercise that doesn’t take place in a sterile gym environment.
Another flush of fear moves through me. What if I knock on the door and he ignores me? Rowan took me out and showed me all the trail cameras he has, lining the road and surrounding the forest around his cabin. He will have seen me coming.
Like last time, I have to climb over the fence, but this time I’m quicker about it, my body stronger from the hikes I’ve been going on in the city. I drop down and take a deep breath, turning to the cabin and forcing myself to take one step after the other.
For a second, I entertain the thought of climbing on the roof and dropping down onto the back porch again, but it’s too risky. I could just as easily fly over the other side, and that wouldn’t be a happy ending for anyone.
So, instead, I walk right up to the front door of the cabin — which is dug a little way into the ground, a gentle slope that you’d miss if you were ten yards away — and knock on the door.
Blood roars in my ears, which turn red from the embarrassment of the moment. I knock again.
Two minutes tick by, excruciatingly slow, and he doesn’t come to the door.
In fact, there’s no movement inside.
Feeling like a total creep, but not wanting this trip to be for nothing, I move to the window, cupping my hands and looking inside.
Surprisingly, the blinds and curtains aren’t drawn, so I’m looking right into the living room, which is dark and empty, the fire out, the throw blankets neatly folded over the couches and chairs.
“Cheese!” I call because surely she’ll bark in response. But there’s nothing. When I move to the other side, peering in through the window in the kitchen, I realize with a sinking feeling that the metal food and water bowls for Cheese are no longer to the left of the sink.
I pull back from the window, heart thudding, and run a hand over my hair, which is slick to my head with sweat.
Rowan is gone.
“So, fine,” I say out loud, because I’m not going to let go that easily. I grab a chair on the front porch and turn it to face out into the woods, so I can see him when he comes walking up. Crossing my legs and pushing my hair out of my face, I say to the empty air. “I’ll wait.”