Page 69 of Pumped

Everest spots a hot dog stand and drags me toward it. Standing in line, I’m about to make a comment about mystery meat when Everest beats me to the punch.

“Not a single word,” he says, putting his hand over my mouth. “It’s delicious and I don’t care what’s in it.”

I stick my tongue out and lick his palm.

“Ew!” he cries, snatching his hand away. He glares at me and I smirk back at him.

The worry and anger from earlier melt away, leaving me feeling strangely light. Like I’ve dropped a heavy weight from my shoulders and now I’m floating through the air.

Everest orders two Italian sausages on hot dog buns, even when I tell him I don’t want one. He shoots me a mischievous look. “Good, because they’re both for me.”

But when the hot dog guy hands over the buns, Everest gives me the second one. I think about protesting, but my stomach grumbles, reminding me that I was too preoccupied to eat before.

I opt for some mustard and sauerkraut, while Everest loads up on every single condiment available. He holds my gaze as he lifts the sausage and bun to his mouth and takes a giant bite. He moans as meat juices and runny condiments cover his lips and drip down his chin, but he doesn’t bother to wipe any of it away.

“Mmm, so good,” he mutters, mouth still half-full of food.

“You’re gross.” I shudder in disgust and turn to grab a handful of napkins from the hot dog stand. We’re going to need them all. Good thing I have wipes in Ivy’s go-bag too.

Everest laughs and takes a couple napkins from me. His eyes sparkle brightly with amusement and joy and I realize he did that on purpose, just to get a reaction out of me. Ugh. Heathen.

“Come on, you can walk and eat at the same time, right?” I don’t wait for his answer before turning toward the penguin exhibit.

We arrive just as the feeding demonstration is ending and by then, Ivy’s energy levels are running on fumes. Everest carries her to the parking lot and we make our way to my parent’s house.

Later that night, after dinner and endless games of UNO—most of which I won—I find Everest in the backyard.

He’s gazing up at the moon. The water in the pool dances, illuminated by the lights below. The neighborhood hasfallen quiet, leaving only the soft chirping of crickets in the background.

I hand him one of the tumblers I brought with me and he lifts the blanket he’s got spread across his lap. I settle in next to him, squeezing in close so we can tuck the blanket around both of us.

“Is this a Laga-whatever-it’s-called?” Everest asks, lifting his glass.

“Lagavulin,” I supply.

“Yeah, right, good for a nightcap.”

“See? You’re learning.”

He shakes his head with a soft laugh. “You’re such a snob,” he mutters.

“A snob who brings you top shelf scotch, so who are you to complain?”

Everest shifts, sliding lower to lean his head on my shoulder. I lift my arm so it’s resting across the back of the patio sofa.

“I would’ve been fine with a beer.”

“Shut up and drink the scotch.”

We fall into a comfortable silence and I tilt my head to bury my nose in his hair. He smells earthy and warm, like freshly cut grass. It’s familiar and comforting and soothing.

Never in my wildest dreams would I have ever thought…

The probability that Everest and I, out of all the people in the world…

If someone had told me a year ago that I would be sitting here, holding Everest in my arms, smelling his hair, I would’ve laughed them out of the city.

But this thing inside me, the thing that wants Everest, that loves Everest, that I’ve fought for so long. It’s grown and grown and grown until it’s filled up every inch of my existence. Until it’s overwhelmed me and overpowered me.

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