Page 78 of Into the Mountains
“Okay.” He barely acknowledges my words as I get up from the couch and go toward the back door. Isabelle turns to me when I stand and opens her mouth to say something, but when she looks at my face she decides not to.
My blinders are on and all I need to do right now is get to Elias before I lose my courage. The door slides open and it rams into the wall. I didn’t mean to push it open so hard, but at least my presence is known. Three heads are turned my way at the sound. Elias is perched on top of the stone wall, and there are fall colors and shriveling plants behind him that appear ready to die only to start their next cycle of life in the spring.
I’m ready to start my next cycle of life too.
Hudson is leaning next to Elias, a beer in hand, legs crossed at the ankles, his torso wrapped in a forest green flannel, the air of someone who is perfectly content with the life they have. His beer is halfway to his lips, like the sound from the opening door made him stall his drink. George is sitting near the table, a chair turned to his sons, hands in the air like he was in the middle of telling a story.
Hudson wastes no time as he lifts his bottle in my direction like he’s doing cheers and looks at his dad. “C’mon Dad, uhhhh…I think Ethan had a cool trick he wanted to show you that he taught Hobbles.”
George just chuckles, looking between Elias and me as he stands to go inside. I hear him mumble “Hobbles,” and continue laughing until the door shuts behind them and we are left with silence on the patio.
“Good name.” I probably should have started with something better than that, but it’s all I could think of. My courage faltered a little bit when three men were staring at me and two were awkwardly leaving.
“Ethan is nothing if not clever.”
“He is.”
Our body language is stiff and awkward. My arms mirror his, crossed at my chest. Partly because of the chill in the air, the other because I feel the need to cover myself. Protect myself in a way from the rejection I fear is coming.
“So, I came out here—”
“What did you come out here f—”
Our voices merge together on a one way path and I imagine myself veering off the way to avoid what I really want to say. Or ask.
He pauses and gestures for me to continue.
“I wanted to…” Why was this so hard? I used to do this often and I’m neverthisnervous. But I’ve also never given any of my exes second chances either.
I take a deep breath in. “Wantedtoseeifyou’dgoonadatewithme?” It comes out in a massive jumble and I’d be surprised if he had the ability to put the words together. Or take them apart in this case. A big operation game, only the thing we’re operating on is my brain and we have to carefully take out each word, letter by letter.
“Talk much, Charlie?” he jests, running a hand through his hair.
I tug my sweater sleeves until they’re over my hands, reverse it and run my hands through my hair, repeating his motion without meaning to. I see why he does it though. It’s strangely comforting.
His joke cycles through my head again. He’s actually making a joke right now?
But that’s who we are. We joke, we banter, we give each other shit, and I can feel the air get a little lighter. The gleam in his eye tells me he’s trying to bring that part of us back. At least for a moment. To help me.
“I do. It’s not my fault your small pea brain is too slow to understand.”
“Pea brain? Really?” He pushes himself off the wall and takes a few steps closer to me. Inches apart. I could reach out my foot if I wanted and make contact with his shin. As satisfying as that may be, that’s a little too childish even for us.
“Pea brain is a little beneath you, isn’t it?”
I lift my head in a challenge, my chin pointed upwards as I meet his eyes. Strands of blond hair fall in front of them and I fight the urge to brush them back. The feeling of them tangled in my fingers rushes back to the nerves at my fingertips. They’rebuzzing with desire to move. To follow the path his hands made moments before.
“I don’t think it is. It hit right where I wanted it to.” I press my pointer finger to the middle of his forehead. “Right in that massive ego. The opposite of your tiny pea brain.”
“Oh now it’s not just small, but it’s tiny, is it?”
“Don’t forget your massive ego.”
“Just as massive as—”
“You’d be a medical marvel if your dick was as massive as your ego.”
He throws his head back and his laugh reverberates deep in his chest. When his head lowers, his smile reaches all the way to his eyes as it goes from hilarious to charming. One that makes my insides swoop like we’re careening down the world’s fastest roller coaster.
