And my mocha leggings skim my hips and thighs—pretty much the way Zach’s gaze does right now.
When he takes in my Moab 3s, his gaze shoots back up to mine. “A-Are you going hiking?”
I give a little shrug, nerves ice skating in my stomach. “If you wanna join me.”
Without breaking eye contact, Zach uses the dish towel to dry his hands, roughly.
He’s been hard to read since he got back last night, and his obvious enthusiasm now is enough to set my heart racing.
“A-Are you sure?” I ask, stepping closer but at the same time, not trusting this hope that has my pulse skittering. “You looked… I don’t know—”
“Fed up?’ He tosses the dish towel onto the counter and gives me a wry look.
It’s my turn to gulp. “Yeah.”
The smile he pastes on has my stomach clenching. “Camp Bliss South.”
My hand flies to my mouth. “Oh God.”
“What a shrew.” And then he pulls a face that unleashes my laughter.
“Don’t I know it.”
Zach shakes his head, exasperation shaping his grin. “I’m just grateful they check out tomorrow.” He heaves an exhale as though putting all thought of the harpy in Camp Bliss South out of his mind. “I think a hike in the woods is exactly what I need.”
I bite the inside of my cheek. It’s more than a hike in the woods.
A whole lot more.
And there’s a part of me that expected Zach to take one look at me and know everything I’d planned. Now I kind of wish he had.
What is he thinking? We’ve hardly touched since he got back. Has everything changed?
Is he going to take one look at my woodsy attempt at seduction and eye me with pity? Give me a soft frown and say,Greta, I’m really sorry, but my feelings have changed.
This is the nightmare scenario I allow to play out in my head as Zach goes to the coat rack and plucks one of his jackets from the hook.
“Ready?” He turns to me with a smile, and I realize I’ve just been staring at him like a weirdo.
I scramble forward, but before I reach the door, Zach grabs my second-hand Patagonia windbreaker off the rack and hands it to me.
“You might need this. The wind’s picking up.”
“Right.” When I take it from him, I notice that my hands are trembling.
As soon as we’re outside, I jam my hands into the pockets and attempt to give myself a pep talk.
I can be brave.
I can be vulnerable.
If he rejects me, I won’t die.
The last one feels like overconfidence, but, hey, fake it ‘til you make it, right?
But I’ve survived hard things. Growing up lonely. Losing Aunt Tilde. All the damage Josh did to my finances and my confidence.
If he doesn’t love me, I’ll survive this too,I tell myself.