She shakes her head. “What do you have against college, anyway?”
“Nothing against it. It’s just not for me.”
“Because you haven’t thought ahead. You’ll miss out on so much.”
She doesn’t know anything about missing out, about loss. About real life. Her words rub me like sandpaper. “What about you? What have you already missed out on?”
She frowns. “Meaning what?”
“What did you do in high school other than study? You don’t get those years back.”
“Oh, and you had such a better experience because you went to parties and drank too much?”
“I’m not saying it was better. I’m saying I was living in the moment. Playing baseball, hanging out with my buddies, going to dances…getting kicked out of dances.”
She tilts her face higher so she can look down her nose at me. “A proud moment, I’m sure.”
“Not proud. Not perfect,” I say. “But at least I was there. You were so busy going through the motions, so worried about what came next, you never saw what was going on around you.”
“I did so,” she says. “I saw you, didn’t I?”
“Smartest thing you did.”
“S-Smartest?” she blusters. She holds out her hands like she’s weighing things. “National Merit Scholar or pool chicken with Anthony.”
I shrug. “So a close second.”
There’s a charged moment of silence, and then she lets out an exasperated sigh. “This is never going to last the full two weeks, is it?”
“Not even close.” I push my chair back. “Start tomorrow night?”
“We’ll meet here. That way I can tell my parents I’m going to the library without lying.”
“Fine. You want to plan the first date?”
She shakes her head. “I need more time to arrange things.”
“Then I’ll start.” I stand and settle my chair under the table. “One bad date coming up.”
Chapter Ten
Anthony
We’re back to being strangers. Acquaintances.
She barely looks my way when I join the group at the visitor’s center. But I feel the crackle of energy between us, and from the way her shoulders tighten, I think she feels it, too. I don’t get it. I don’t get why it’s her?
My only real girlfriend was Haley, and that was a long time ago. I asked Haley to our eighth grade graduation dance. I dressed in a suit, bought her a rose corsage, and kissed her behind the cafeteria. I kissed her behind a lot of buildings after that. We lost our virginity to each other freshman year.
And then my dad got sick.
After that, her touch made my skin crawl. It wasn’t just her—it was everyone. I didn’t want to be touched, didn’t want to be around other people. I felt like I was living inside a spider’s web, strands clinging to me, suffocating me. I couldn’t get free. Couldn’t breathe.
Eventually, the feeling went away—or maybe I got used to it. But I didn’t want connections. Didn’t want strings tying me to anyone…pulling me toward a future I’d stopped believing in. I don’t know whether Haley understood what I couldn’t explain, but she found a good guy sophomore year and moved on.
No more girlfriends after that. No strings.
Until Mai.
Now I’ve got strings attached with knots I can’t seem to loosen.
I woke up at the crack of dawn and wanted to roll over and go back to sleep. It’s summer. What was I doing getting up to work in the desert? And then I thought about Mai. I was suddenly wide awake and feeling the same pull I felt all spring. So yeah, I’ve officially lost my mind. But not for long. I’ve been thinking up ideas for tonight that she’ll hate.
Race go-karts. Water gun fight. Strip checkers.
Maybe all three?
Amber strides from the equipment shed with a bucket in each hand and nods a hello my way. Mallory and Ben are waiting off to one side, holding hands and wearing the suggested uniform of hiking pants and long-sleeve shirts. Grant is dressed the same and standing close to an over-dressed Mai.
I amble forward in an old pair of jeans and an even older Cholla baseball tee. It’s not that I’m a rule breaker. It’s more that I don’t see the point of following most of them. I’ve got sunscreen and a hat on, gloves in my back pocket, and a CamelBak vest that holds two liters of water. Those make sense. The rest is about comfort, far as I’m concerned. I don’t see how Mai’s get-up can be comfortable. And with that ridiculous hat, she looks as out of place as a Christmas tree would up here. I get the feeling she’s not exactly at home in the desert. So why volunteer for a trail project?
“Let’s get started,” Amber calls. She gestures for us to follow her up the paved track. After about a hundred yards, we turn onto a smaller trail wide enough for two, and the group pairs off. Ben and Mallory. Grant and Mai. Amber and me bringing up the rear. I reach for one of the buckets and realize it’s heavy with pruning shears. “Give me the other bucket, too.”
“I got it.” She shoots me a smile as we start up the incline. She looks badass in camo and mud-caked hiking boots, but I get the feeling she’s good people. That’s what my dad would have said.
“So what drew you to this project?” she asks. “You never did answer yesterday.”
“Right.” I shoulder past a wide branch, hold it back for Amber to pass. I keep Mai in my sights. “You could say it was a certain fascination.”
“You like the desert?”
“I like the outdoors.” That’s not a lie. I look up from the dusty trail to the rocky terrain that rises in easy slopes, lit by the morning sun and smelling of peace. Freedom. “I biked a lot of these trails with my dad and brother.”
“A mountain biker, huh?”
“Used to be.”
“It’s nice to know you used the trails. The more people who use the desert, get to appreciate it, the more people will want to take care of it.”
“I hope so.”
Green brush and scraggly trees make way for the spiky arms of Cholla cactus and a few towering Saguaros. We’re moving into a small valley between a range of mountains that stretch east to west. The slopes are usually a gray backdrop to the city, but we’ve had a lot of rain this spring, and everything is sprouting green. The ground is rockier here, and we keep our eyes on the trail, dust kicking up with every step. By the end of the three hours, I have a feeling we’ll all be covered in dirt.