Page 37 of Wild and Wrangled

As soon as we got to the top of the incline, we started to go back down—in between two large rock faces. The space between them was barely big enough for Dusty to fit through. “Careful,” he said.

When he got through, he turned back around and stretched out his hand to help me the last few steps. I stepped out of the opening, and my jaw dropped.

“I told you that you’d like it,” Dusty said, eyes on me.

“It’s…wow.” The view spread out before me was stunning. Unlike most of the other viewpoints I’d seen in Meadowlark, this one didn’t face toward the town. We were on the back side of the mountain face, so there weren’t any houses or buildings in the view, justan expanse of evergreens and aspens and grasses and jagged and beautiful rocks—a river split the scene in half as it flowed below.

Dusty kept hold of my hand and pulled me toward the edge of the rock face we were on. I looked to where he was leading me and blinked a few times to make sure I was seeing things right. The way the rocks had eroded and broken had created something that kind of looked like a couch that sat looking over…everything.

“Watch your step,” Dusty said. It was a good thing he had ahold on me because I was so distracted by what was in front of me that I think I could have very easily fallen off the cliff. When we sat down on the rocks, Dusty took off his backpack. He handed me a water bottle, which I took eagerly. He also had apples, peanut butter sandwiches, goldfish crackers, and blue raspberry sour straws.

I sat cross-legged and situated myself diagonally, so I could see both of the views—the mountains and Dusty. “I think I get it now,” I said and then bit into an apple. I’d learned from Dusty’s dad that he thought Pink Lady apples were the best, and now that I’d had them a few times, I agreed.

“What?” Dusty asked.

“Hiking,” I said. “You didn’t tell me we got views and snacks.”

Dusty laughed. “So you like it?”

“I love it,” I said.

“Good,” he responded. “So really…what were you thinking about me back there?” He looked at me sideways as he ran his fingers through his mop of blond hair.

I took a deep breath. Dusty had gotten me out of the habit of censoring myself—at least around him. Maybe it was the notes or the fact that I felt closer to him than anyone else, but I didn’t think there was anything he would judge me for.

“Why you haven’t kissed me yet.”

Dusty froze, but his gray eyes gleamed. “Do you want me to kiss you, Ash?” There it was—the nickname. I had recently folded one of my English papers in a way that cut off the latter half of my last name so it would fit inside my notebook. Dusty saw it on my desk and started calling me Ash. He’d finally found his nickname for me, the one that made him feel special.

I didn’t tell him that he already was.

“Yeah,” I said in a tone that I hoped communicated that was a stupid question. When he was quiet for a second, I quickly said, “But, like, only if you want to.” Smooth.

“I want to,” he said immediately. “I’ve always wanted to.” There it was—the stomach flip.

“Then why haven’t you?” My voice came out quieter than I expected.

I watched Dusty swallow. “Waiting for the right moment, I guess.”

I gestured to the scene around us. “This feels like it could be the right moment,” I said and moved a little closer to him. He moved closer to me, too. The air grew thin, and I knew it wasn’t just the altitude.

“Yeah?” he asked. His voice was lower than I’d heard it.

I nodded. When he leaned forward, I paused. “I’ve never done this before,” I blurted out. Oh god. That was embarrassing. “I don’t know…do I move?”

Dusty smiled—the lopsided one that made my heart squeeze and my breath catch. “No, angel,” he said quietly as he brought his hands up to each side of my face. “I’ll come to you.”

I tried to control my breath and my heartbeat, but there was no use—not with him. I watched his eyes scan my face before they landed on my mouth. He leaned in further, and I closed my eyes—half a second later, his lips were on mine.

It was pretty much the best first kiss ever. I didn’t want to stop kissing him. I just did it over and over again—continuing long after we had left the rock couch, on our way back down the mountain, and in the front seat of Dusty’s truck.

I barely noticed when he parked outside of my house because when the car was stopped, that meant I could start kissing him again.

So I did.

I pushed myself across the bench seat, so I was as close to him as I could get. His hands roamed—from my shoulders, to my back, to my waist. When he used his mouth to open mine a little, I felt a little bolt of electricity from the top of my head to the tips of my toes.

Why didn’t we do this sooner? I wanted to spend every spare second I had with my mouth attached to his to make up for lost time.

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