Page 44 of Pictures in Blue
“What else could you possibly pull out of that thing?” Avery asks, clearly exasperated for whatever reason.
“Provisions,” I say.
“Do you ever have more than one word answers?”
“Rarely,” I smile wryly.
“I looked in there earlier for another sleeping bag and it was empty,” she states.
“Side pockets,” I place some chocolate in front of her followed by a small bag of jumbo marshmallows and a box of graham crackers.
“Just how long did you think we were going to be in the woods for?”
“Like I said, I like to be prepared. Plus,” I add. “What’s a hiking trip without s’mores?”
“S’mores are for camping. Not hiking,” she says.
“Incorrect. Every time my siblings and I hiked this path, we’d always stop here for s’mores before heading back no matter what time of day it was.”
Really, it was Sarah that had insisted. She was the one who always made sure her bag had contents for s’mores. She didn’t care that we just ate or that we would eat immediately after getting home. A hike wasn’t a hike without stopping for s’mores.
“Oh, you have more than one sibling?” she asks and I realize I used the plural.
“No,” I answer and busy myself with opening everything. She must hear the sharpness in my tone because she doesn’t ask anything else and grabs a marshmallow. Spearing it, she places it over the fire, lets it catch for a few seconds and blows it out. The edges are black and the inside starts to squish out as she places it between the graham cracker pieces and chocolate she readied beforehand. She hands it to me. The perfect s’more. And I grab it with a quiet, “thank you.” She repeats the process for herself and we sit in silence as we eat, licking the sticky marshmallow off our fingers with dignity. I wish I was the one licking it off her fingers instead.
Fuck, s’mores may have been a bad idea. Never have I found eating a s’more sexy. But Avery is making me question everything and now I need to shift my hips in the opposite direction. Again. I’m never going to look at a s’more the same way, nor am I going to eat one without thinking of Avery licking the chocolate she left behind on her bottom lip. I don’t think I want to. When she’s done eating—and licking the marshmallow off her fingers, which does things to me I don’t want to admit—she stands up without a word and goes to the other side pocket of the bag I brought.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“Looking for another ponytail holder for my hair. I like to sleep with it up so it’s out of my face. My ribbons always fall out.”
She pulls out a small red head scarf and glances at me with a look I don’t want to be on the receiving end of.
“And this is?” She asks.
“Nothing,” I make a grab for it before she holds it up in the air out of my reach.
“Cheater!” she yells.
“What?”
“You, Hudson Waters, are a dirty cheater! And cheating in a game with your innocent nephew? Shame on you.” Her face is serious, but she can’t hide the humor in her tone.
“How do you even know what that is?”
“I promised not to reveal my sources. And unlike you, I keep my promises.”
“Oh, please. Ethan asked you to snoop, didn’t he?”
Laughing, she says, “No, actually. I really did just need a ponytail holder, but this is even better.”
“Iwasgoing to hide it Sunday and I forgot, so I was going to do it today, butsomeonejust had to go on a hikeandget us stuck in the woods overnight. So, the game has to wait until tomorrow. I promise I wasn’t hiding the flag in my bag. I wouldn’t do that to Ethan, believe it or not.”
“Alright,” she says in a playful tone. “IguessI believe you. But you’re definitely going to lose, because you’ll never find his flag.”
“I never do,” I smile. “Here.” I hold out the hair tie I had on my wrist for her.
She puts the flag back where she found it and carefully takes the hair tie from me. By the cautious movements of her hand, I can tell she is making an effort to avoid any sort of contact with my fingers. She doesn’t succeed though and the tips of them lightly graze the skin on the inside of my wrist.
