Page 11 of Aim for Love

This guy lives in my head rent free sometimes, reminding me what I’m not.

Mollie sits down on the chair beside me and smiles like she doesn’t mind that I’m not Scott.

“Hi…how’s your trip going?” I know I’m an awkward conversationalist, better when I’m teaching or learning. I read a book once about how to make friends and it basically said to keep asking questions.

“Well, I know how to wear a backpack now.” She actually seems enthused about this, not throwing me an awkward bone. “I’ve never even used those waist strap thingies.”

“That will completely change the way you look at a backpack! You’ll have much less discomfort if we got the fitting right.”

“I’m sure you did.” She lifts her beer at me. “You took your time on it.”

“Oh, don’t drink that! I was going to get you something different.” I jump up and rush to the bar to get away from my embarrassment that she noticed the other day how carefully I adjusted every backpack to find the right fit. I enjoyed it far more than I normally would as I jerked on loose straps that made her jiggle in interesting places.

The bar is busy, filled with tourists who mostly have the benefit of staying within walking distance at one of the many hotels nearby. People are getting louder as they drink.

My friend Valentine works at The Bivy, and when it’s slow, she will describe the steps to making cocktails and show me her work. She’s here tonight, but running back and forth behind the bar. “Think you can get me something touristy when you’ve got a chance?” I call out to her.

She makes a face. “What do you think I doallday? Can you be more specific?”

Making an educated guess, I give her a taste profile. She raises her eyebrows, so I know there will questions when she has more time, but nods.

“I figured at least one of these would suit you,” I tell Mollie when I get back to the table and set a whiskey sour and a vodka mule in front of her. “Sweet and sour or sweet and spicy?”

She bites her lip, trying to hide a delighted smile. “What’s your guess?”

Pushing the vodka mule toward her, I watch her face.

“Really? You think I’m spicy?” She blushes and takes the drink. “Most people wouldn’t.”

“Guess they’re not looking closely enough,” I reply, taking a sip of the other drink.

She laughs. “Count me among them.”

“Daring might be the better word. Sweet and daring. You’re here on this tour, aren't you?”

“I hate to tell you this but this trip was not my idea. It was Nora’s.”

“You still said yes. And I get it, maybe you only wanted to spend time with your friends, but I’ve been watching you. You attack every activity like it’s your job. I bet you studied or practiced before you got here, too.”

Mollie studies me, her pupils lit up from the neon sign on the wall behind me. “I read a book,” she admits.

“You did? Which one?” I lean in, hoping it’s one I’ve read. Maybe that’s on my shelves at home.

“It was about people who survive big disasters, like getting lost in the wilderness, and what it takes. It scared the shit out of me.” She lowers her voice when she says “shit,” like we’re surrounded by impressionable children instead of rowdy adults.

“I promise I won’t let you get lost in the wilderness on this trip,” I tell her seriously. “But did you learn anything?”

She smiles wryly. “I learned I probably don’t have what it takes to survive something like that. So I’m depending on you here, Hunter.”

It might be the first time she’s said my name. That’s how it lands with me, anyway. Like she plucked me out of a herd of other guides—all of us trail smart guys who “know more about the outdoors than anything else”—and saw something unique in me.

“Out of all of us, Hunter’s the guy you want when you get lost in the wilderness,” Scott pipes up, popping our bubble. Ididn’t realize he was listening. “This guy’s certified in everything you can be certified in, practically. CPR, First Aid, AED, Mountaineering, Orienteering, Lifeguarding…”

“Shouldn’t you all know how to do those things?” Nora asks skeptically.

Scott puts his arm around her and says, “There’s knowing how and there’s passing the test. Hunter’s a test-taker. He even got his kinesiology degree.”

We’re veering into territory I don’t want to get into here. I hate talking about the fact that I only have an associate degree from the community college. “It’s more practical than a degree in theater,” I retort.

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