Page 194 of Banter & Blushes

“I think I’ll take a dip in the pool,” I say, jumping up from the lounger and diving into the cool water. Hoping it will quiet everything inside me.

Spoiler alert: it doesn’t.

Later,we headed back up to the room for a nap. When the alarm goes off after a few hours, I feel like a whole new person. Jet lag is a real thing, apparently. “You getting up, sleepy head?” I ask, tossing my pillow at Reid who’s busy pulling the blankets over his head.

“Yeah, I’m up.”

We take turns in the bathroom changing into hiking gear, and grab our backpacks. The sky is dark when we get into our rental car and head for Volcanoes National Park.

When we find the trailhead and step out of the car, I forget how to breathe.

Moonlight bathes the terrain, and the landscape is otherworldly. Fields of black rock stretch for miles in all directions, jagged and rippling like frozen waves. Plumes of steam rise in the distance, and the scent of something earthy and ancient fills the air. We hike in silence for a while, the only sounds the crunch of gravel beneath our boots and the wind whispering through the brush. Only a few other couples are scattered along the path, far enough away that it feels like we’re completely alone.

When glowing cracks appear beneath the trail, I stop short. “Is that . . . lava?” I whisper, my voice swallowed up by the vastness around us. I can feel the heat rising through the cracks in the rock. It’s surreal to think I’m standing above something so dangerous.

Reid comes up beside me, his voice low with awe. “Yep. That’s the real deal.”

Reid reaches into his backpack and passes me a bottle of water. “Ladies first . . . Mrs. Bennett,” he says, giving me a lopsided smile.

I blink at him and shake my head. “Are you ever going to let that go?”

“Doubtful,” he says, looking back toward the ocean.

The air shifts. I can feel it. Like the moment is holding its breath, daring one of us to share our feelings.

“Right,” I say, my voice quiet. I take a sip of water, throat suddenly dry. He doesn’t move. Doesn’t say another word. Just stands there, quiet and still.

I lean against a rock pile, and Reid moves to stand beside me, our shoulders just barely touching, and the lava under our feet casting up an orange glow. His warmth seeps through the space between us, pulling me in.

“It’s beautiful,” I whisper.

“It really is.”

I turn my head slightly, catching him already watching me, his jaw tight like he’s thinking too hard. My fingers twitch with the desire to reach out and take his hand, but I don’t move. Because if I reach for him—and he pulls away—it will break something I’m not sure I can fix.

We fall into silence again, watching as the sky slowly shifts from darkness to the beautiful mix of colors of sunrise. Golden light spills upward until the sun finally peeks over the edge of the earth, casting the lava fields in a surreal orange glow.

Neither of us speaks.

Reid’s arm brushes mine again, and this time, he doesn’t shift away.

I glance sideways. His lips are parted slightly, eyes fixed on the sunrise, like he’s trying to fix it in his memory.

Or maybe, like me, he’s trying to memorize this moment between us.

I let my head rest lightly against his shoulder, just for a second.

He doesn’t move.

Doesn’t breathe, maybe.

Then slowly, like he’s afraid he’ll scare me off, he tilts his head and leans the tiniest bit toward mine. We don’t say anything. We don’t need to.

It’s the kind of quiet that feels full of something growing that neither of us can name just yet.

When the sun is fully above the horizon and the light is too bright to stare at directly, we both step back.

“Well,” I say, brushing ash off my shorts, “that was probably the most incredible sunrise of my life.”

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