Page 83 of The Quit List
All those weeks ago—when I proudly and very bold-facedly lied to Sabrina about being into the great outdoors—I never would have guessed that I’d end up here… about to leave for my first multi-day backpacking trip.
With a man who I may or may not have completely misguided feelings for.
On the bright side, Jax has been incredibly helpful over the last week, texting me often about what to pack. And I’ve been relieved that, over text at least, things have seemed normal between us.
Probably because nothing actually happened, I remind myself. The night at the club, Jax probably thought I was being silly, and was dancing with me to humor me. I’m sure he has no idea how much I wanted to kiss him.
Definitely has no idea that, when I woke up the next morning in the cold, hungover light of day, I wanted to kiss him even more.
Still do.
I hope things feel normal between us in person, too.
I ended up borrowing a backpack from Luke’s brother Liam, who’s recently come back from his own backpacking adventure with his wife in South America (seriously—who knew so many people were into this backpacking thing?! Though it sounds like his type of backpacking wasn’t so much outhouses and hiking boots and hand sanitizer as it was long bus rides and hotel rooms in various colorful cities).
Jax assured me that he has the sleeping and cooking gear out there already, but he made sure to tell me what clothing and personal items I’d need. His packing list was super detailed and helpful, which will be a great resource to share with guests when the time comes.
At that moment, Raquel, who’s just finished checking a guest in, suddenly pipes up, “Get this, Mrs. G. She’s off on a backcountry hiking trip with this, like, insanely hot mountain man.”
“Oh, my days!” the elderly woman exclaims, fanning herself with a brochure for the CDC Museum. “That sounds very exciting. Is this mountain man your beau?”
“No, no,” I say with a swift shake of my head. “Just a hiking buddy.”
Raquel snorts. “A hiking buddy with a body one could write sonnets about.”
“You wanna go in my place?” I give what I hope looks like a casual, devil-may-care eye roll.
“Definitely!”
Mrs. G reaches out a wrinkled hand laden with gold rings and pats my forearm none-too-gently. “If I was your age, I would certainly make the most of this hiking buddy of yours. Live while you’re still young and all that. What are the youths calling it these days… benefitting friends?”
“I believe the term you’re looking for is ‘friends with benefits,’” Raquel volunteers helpfully. Not.
“All that time alone in the woods together.” Mr. Goldberg tuts. “You’re bound to do some kind of hanky panky.”
My stomach clenches at the thought of doing any type of hanky or panky with Jax. Even the idea of being physically close to him makes my face flood with heat. That brush of his lips to my forehead last week was enough to elicit full-body shivers, so I can hardly imagine what actually kissing him would be like…
Like freefalling, I imagine.
I clear my throat quickly. “No, it’s not like that with us.”
Although as I say these words, I recognize the longing behind them. It’s all too familiar. Longing for something—for someone—I can’t have. The last thing I need to do is put myself through that again.
I’d be an idiot to develop feelings for Jax, but honestly, I’d kind of also be an idiot not to. Because it’s not just sexual attraction; he’s also an awesome guy. The type of person who eats Happy Meals with you in the middle of the night and laughs with you till your ribs hurt. The type who’s there to catch you when you fall… but instead of picking you up, he teaches you how to get up yourself. Makes you braver. Stronger.
And so, I clearly need to separate these things out—my physical pull to him, and my entirely friendly, non-physical relationship with him—or these next few days are going to be very, very difficult to get through.
Talk about a whole new spin on getting myself out of my comfort zone.
“Oh, look, there he is now!” Raquel points out the front window of the hotel, and our elderly guests spin around in time to catch a glimpse of Jax, sitting in Edna’s driver’s seat and talking to one of our valets.
And despite my very clear, very concise logic, my stomach erupts with enough butterflies to fill a whole habitat.
“Oh, my!” Mrs. G exclaims. “Oh my, oh my, oh my. That boy is positively delicious.”
She’s not the only one looking—Jax has caught the eye of more than a few elderly patrons milling around the lobby. The place is quickly becoming Cougar Town.
“He’s early!” I hiss-whisper to Raquel, running my hands over my pressed work pants and blouse. “I’m not ready!”