Page 87 of PS: I Hate You
Ahead of me, Dom hikes at a steady pace while singing “Misery Business.” The moment he started “Still Into You,” I was in heaven. Josh was right, Dom is a fantastic singer. And once he agrees to a bit, the man commits. The guy has been singing for half an hour. The lung capacity is impressive. As is the knowledge of Paramore’s backlist.
This experience would be perfect if each inhale didn’t feel like forcing honey through a straw wrapped in rubber bands.
“Break!” I wheeze out, settling on a relatively flat rock and trying to get as much air into my lungs as I can before Dom realizes how much I’m struggling. He appears before me, all broad shoulders and brooding. “I’m fine,” I gasp.
“You would be. If we had time.”
I jerk back in surprise. I fully expected Dom to say,You’re not fine, Maddie. You’re a mess. You can’t breathe. Where’s your inhaler?
“I’ve been pushing our pace.” Dom glances toward the sky, and I follow his gaze to spy the dark clouds gathering directly above us. The wind has also picked up, grabbing at the hair that’s fallen out of my ponytail.
A storm is coming, and with the harsh chill in the air—the same one drying out my throat—I’m betting we’re about to get snowfall in the Badlands.
Dom crouches in front of me, his eyes worried. “On a nice day, I know you could hike this, Maddie. We could break when you needed and take our time, and I wouldn’t try to take over. I swear. But I’m worried we’ll get stuck here if we don’t pick up the pace. Honestly,I’m not sure we should drive to North Dakota today, either. Not if it starts snowing.”
“I’m going as fast as I can.” The words aren’t defensive. They’re hopeless.
This is my best, I’m saying.If I push myself more, I’ll be out of commission.
Dom reaches for my hands. “Let me carry you. Please.”
“What?” I shake my head. “You can’t do that.”
Dom’s lips tilt up at the corner. “Wanna bet?”
His playful expression disarms me. “Yeah, actually. I do.”
He shrugs. “Fine. What are your terms?”
Hmm. A game. That’s always how Josh got me out of my shell, too.
An evil, playful urge rises in me.
“If youcan’tcarry me all the way back to the car, then…I get your letterman jacket.”
Dom barks out a laugh. “You came up with that fast. Deal. If I win…” His eyes drag over my body, then return to my face. “You have to let me stay the night at your place before we go to Idaho.”
I gape. “You want to stay atmyplace? Why?”
His smile grows to a full grin. “I’ll tell you when I win.” Dom slips off the straps of his backpack and situates the bag to hang on the front of his body. Then he crouches, facing away from me in the universal sign ofClimb on, it’s time for a piggyback ride.
I heave off my rocky seat, wrap my arms around Dom’s neck, and let him hook a grip under both of my legs. Then the man straightens, standing easily, as if my extra weight means nothing.
“Let me know if you need to stop,” he says over his shoulder as he strikes out on the trail.
“Let me know whenyouneed to set me down,” I taunt back. “Hell, I’m gonna look so cool in that jacket. All the cheerleaders are going to besojealous.”
Dom snorts, and I feel the way his chest jumps with the abruptexhale. In this position, there’s not much about Dom I don’t feel, even through my layers. The guy is like a walking, talking oven, toasting the front of my body where I’m mashed against his back. My boobs are flattened against the shifting muscles of his shoulders. Not that I’m complaining.
But I might need a distraction.
“Hey, Dom.” As I speak into his ear, I spy goose bumps scattering along his strong neck.
He swallows. “Yeah?”
I rest my chin on my bicep and wonder if he can see my smirk out of the corner of his eye.
“This doesn’t get you out of singing. Josh also had a crush on Avril Lavigne. Let’s hear some ‘Sk8ter Boi.’ ”