Page 109 of How You See Me
“It would.” She thanks me with another kiss and gets to work.
She poses me on the roof in half a dozen ways, getting shots with the dawn light shifting across my skin. Then, she has me stand in the grass a short distance away, silhouetted against the desert. It’s awkward, but since she’s smiling again, I’d do it a hundred times over.
She forgets me the second the sunrise crests the earth. The sky bursts into color over the next several minutes—rose gold and burnt orange licking across the horizon to alight the whole desert.
It’s a stunning view, but I spend more of the time memorizing her. The way she holds her breath before taking the shot. The graceful movement so her hands. The way she contorts her limbs to find the right angle. Everything about her is the most perfect dream. My dream.
When she’s had enough, she keeps her promise, making breakfast out of our remaining supplies. Her moving around the tiny kitchen in nothing but my sweatshirt and easy joy on her face is an entirely new kind of heaven. One I never want to leave.
We eat, and I help her get ready for the day. It’s not my preferred way of handling her clothes, but the task comes with some unforgettable visuals and a lot of laughter—a sound I’ll never take for granted.
I learn how to wrap her long hair into a messy bun with what she calls ascrunchie. It’s not something I remember using with my sisters when they were young. They always had thin, stretchy bands of every color that were too tiny and fragile for my big fingers. But with my ponytail and pigtail experience, it takes me only three tries to get it right, earning me a kiss on the cheek.
Soon, we’re back on the road, heading toward the countryside through a sea of rust and sage.
“You never told me what we’re doing today,” she says, bare feet on the dash, head tilted toward me.
“You’ll find out when we get there. No need to ruin the suspense with details.”
“Isn’t thatexactlywhat you’re doing bynottelling me?” She shifts to face me in her seat. “Now, you’re forcing me to torture you with fifty questions until you crack. You could save us both the headache by just—”
“Hot air balloon ride.”
“Thank you. Was that so—” She stills as the words gradually register, her arms folding across her stomach. “Noooo.”
“You asked.” I shrug, knowing there is no preventing what comes next. “Had you just enjoyed the ride, you wouldn’t be thinking about conquering fear number two right now.”
“Hayes.”
“Josie.”
Her eyes narrow. “What if it crashes intothose?” She jabs a finger at the windshield.
“The Sandia Mountains? I’m pretty sure the pilot will steer clear of them.”
“What if the wind blows it off course?”
“Jump?”
She smacks my shoulder. “We’ve got too much going for us to go out on a whim like Romeo and Juliet.”
I chuckle “Relax. I want more days like yesterday with you. And besides, I’m supposed to protect you, not toss you overboard.”
“I thought we were jumpingtogether?”
“I just said jump. You’re the one who romanticized it.”
With a groan, she slumps back in her seat, the same way she did when she saw the go-karts—dramatic, pouty, and low-key excited under the worry.
Still, I give her an out.
“You don’t have to go up, but I do. I can meet you after.”
Her arms shield her stomach while she considers. “Where you go, I go. Remember?” Her brows pull together. “But why don’tyouhave an option?”
I follow the map’s directions, taking the exit as I consider how to answer.
“It’s for Ava.”
