3
“I hate you,” I say to Tristan’s back as he trudges ahead of me, like he’s not about to collapse.
“No, you don’t.”
I glare at his back, while my lungs ache in my chest and my thighs scream at me.If I needed another reminder I’m out of shape, mission accomplished.When he said he was taking me for a hike, I thought it would be something simple.A quick little trek on one of the trails in the Hollywood Hills.
Nope.
The man decided to torture me apparently.
The flowering succulents and other greenery make it beautiful torture, I’ll give him that.But it’s torture, nonetheless.He told me it wasn’t much farther before we’d reach the peak and I could catch my breath and give my legs a rest, but until we get there I’m going to continue to stare holes in the back of his shirt.
It’s infuriating that he acts like he only walked up two steps.He’s not even breathing hard, and there’s barely a glisten of sweat on his skin.I look like I was in a water fight with rabid raccoons—and lost.My hair is falling out of my messy bun and plastering to my face that feels hot to the touch, so I imagine it’s bright pink from exertion—the curse of fair skin.My shirt clings to me, and every inch of my body feels damp with sticky sweat.
I feel gross.
I thought exercise was supposed to make me feel better.The thought barely passes through my mind before Tristan looks over his shoulder.
“It’s just up ahead,” he says.
We reach the summit, and I stare in awe of the view.You can see the vast California coastline and blue-green of the ocean.A cool breeze wafts around us, offering relief, and when I take a breath, it feels less like I’m rejuvenating myself from the trek up the mountain and more like I might be breathing for the first time in almost a year.
My chest feels tight for a whole new reason, but it’s not the kind of crippling emotion I woke up with.The emotion swirling in me now is like someone lifted a small weight off my chest.My burden is still there, but it’s a little easier to breathe.
“Worth it?”
My cheeks stretch with a rare smile.“Definitely.”
“Thanks for coming with me today.I’ve always wanted to check out this trail.”
I don’t say anything as we stare at the ocean tide crashing against the rocks and the beach.He does this all the time—makes it seem like I’m the one doing him a favor when we both know it’s all him.But I appreciate his attempt to not make me feel like a burden.
“How’d you hear about this place?”
He glances at me.“A guy at my gym mentioned it.He runs this periodically.”
My jaw drops and I simply stare at him.“Excuse me?Herunsthis?Is someone chasing him with an ax?”
Tristan’s bright blue eyes light up, and he lets out a deep chuckle.“Some people do it for fun.”
I shiver like I have the heebie-jeebies.“Some people are masochists.”
He laughs louder this time, throwing his head back, and my smile widens.
“Thank you,” I whisper, but he hears me.
He watches me carefully, his eyes still happy although slightly subdued.He doesn’t ask what I’m thanking him for—he knows.He knows how hard I’ve struggled.In fact, he doesn’t say anything at all, which isn’t exactly uncommon for him.He’s definitely the quiet, brooding type.I think we’ve talked more in the past ten months than we have in the past ten years, but there’s still so much I don’t know about him.He’s surprisingly—or maybe not so surprisingly—stingy on the personal details.
I, however, can’t seem to keep my mouth closed.“It was a rough morning,” I confess.
I swallow some of the emotion threatening to escape, but there’s something about having all these endorphins flooding my body and staring out at the endless blue of the ocean that makes me want to open up.
“I miss taking pictures.”
I’m the band photographer and also their social media manager, but I got into photography long before I started working for the band.My dad bought a camera for me when I started high school, and I swear that thing never left my hand.
Until Robbie died.