Page 52 of Untruly With You

The corners of his mouth twitch. “Yes, Laine. My mother created an elaborate plan for us to go on this date solely so I could touch your ass. You caught us.”

After some more instructions from Sutton, we’re on our way along the trail. The steady sound of hooves striking the ground creates a soothing backdrop for the rustling leaves and occasional birdsong. With Sutton right at my side, and behind me when the trail narrows, I feel more at ease atop Darla. Sutton has always been a comforting reassurance, whether it was convincing me I would ace an exam or checking over my resume as many times as I asked, or now, simply being here for me as I tackle my nerves.

Remembering the story of Duke’s passing, I spend most of the ride with my eyes on the ground, looking for any snakes or small animals that could spook Darla or any big rocks she might stumble on. As we venture deeper into the woods, the surroundings make subtle changes, and I look up occasionally to bask in the beauty. The trees grow taller and denser, casting dappled shadows on the trail.

Cool air carries the smell of pine and, after about forty minutes, the sound of lapping water. The throb of anxiety in my chest is back full force. Darla was an unexpectedly welcome diversion, but soon I’ll be on solid ground again with nothing to distract me from the fact that—lately—my entire body feels more alive when Sutton comes near.

We break through the trees and there, surrounded by vibrant wildflowers, is a mountain lake. As we near it, I see that its surface is so clear I can look past the reflected foliage of the trees and the impossibly blue sky and see all the wayto the bottom of the lake. There, colorful rocks and pebbles create a mosaic of blues, greens, and reds, distorted by the soft ripples in the water.

I’m speechless. I love the city, butthis?How did Sutton ever leave?

Sutton dismounts his horse and reaches up to help me down from Darla's saddle. The thought of coming down is somehow even scarier than the climb up, though, so he practically pulls me to him in a big bear hug, my body held tight to his. My legs wobble slightly as they touch the ground, re-acclimatizing to the stable ground.

Sutton's hand lingers on my arm for a moment, supporting me. “Welcome to our little paradise,” he says with a grin.

“It's incredible,” I whisper as if I’m in a church.

“We—mostly I—would come here sometimes to get away from everything.”

The tranquility of this place is overwhelming. The gentle flow of the water against the rocky shore, the hum of insects, and the swaying of the trees. It’s almost too beautiful to bear.

“What’s on our docket for the night?” I ask, my mind reeling from the possibilities here, things I could never do in the city. A quiet swim, stargazing—I don’t know—feeding chipmunks? I wonder if they’re as ravenous as the pigeons I’m familiar with.

“I’m sure my mom and sister gave us options,” Sutton says. He nods to the far corner of the lake, to our surprise.

22

SUTTON

I stickmy hands in my pockets just so I won’t reach out for Laine’s hand while we walk to our campsite. Lately, fighting the urge to touch her feels like I’m fighting to keep magnets apart.

Mom and Frankie really went all out. Our campsite is complete with a prepped fire pit, an overflowing picnic basket, a red cooler, battery-powered string lights, a deck of cards, a mound of pillows and blankets, and two sets of folded flannel pajamas.

Laine stares at the campsite and a wide, open-mouthed smile spread across her balled-up cheeks. “This is the most romantic thing I’ve ever seen.” Her expression falters. “I’m starting to feel guilty about this whole fake-dating thing.”

My heart sinks. It’s impossible not to feel guilty about lying to my family, but that was the last thing on my mind when I saw the surprise that was left for us. Selfishly, all I could think about was spending an evening with Laine, away from the lies.

“Don’t feel bad,” I urge, planting my feet in the dirt so I don’t gravitate toward her subconsciously. “You only did it tohelp me. Besides, I’m suremy mom and Frankie loved organizing this for us.”

“Only because they love seeing you happy and in love,” Laine says, laughing humorlessly.

“Iamhappy,” I insist. “Your friend is the greatest thing I’ve had the privilege of being.”

Laine rolls her eyes but that smile—that irresistible smile—is back.

“Trust me,” I say, “dating or not, there’s not any other way I’d want to spend my evening.”

I open my mouth to say more—what I might say, however, I’m not sure—but Laine’s cheeks redden to the color of unripe chokecherries, and she dips down to inspect the picnic basket. “I’m starving,” she says, clearly trying to reroute the conversation.

We graze on the cheese board and roast hot dogs over the fire pit. We talk about our childhoods, somehow able to conjure up new stories we haven’t yet shared with each other after all this time. We stare at the flames flickering between us. But no matter how hard I try to keep a safe distance, no matter how hard I try to avoid staring at her, no matter how many times I remind myself that wearen’t a “we”at all, my feelings are fighting under the surface. They’ve been bubbling there all week. Really, they’ve been there for months.

“Sutton?” Laine asks, her voice thick. She stares up at me with those deep brown eyes, and every other color fades away. I must take too long to answer, because she continues after a quick clearing of her throat. “Is that safe to ride in?”

I follow her gaze. My old red canoe is sitting near the edge of the water. Immediately, I’m on my feet, eager to give Laine anything she wants. I hold my hand out to help her up from her stump. She takes it, but even after she’s standing, we keep our hands intertwined. We pause for a few slowmoments, staring silently at one another, each of us daring the other to pull their hand away.

Neither of us does.

I lead Laine by the hand, my fingers tightening around hers. Not for the sake of keeping up appearances. Just for the sake of loving the feeling of her hand in mine. I steal a glance at her, catching the way her eyes catch the light of the setting sun, glowing like molten amber.

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