Heat Wave(38)

But actually, the worst parts of the trail are when they switchback and head away from the coast. Here the jungle is the thickest, there’s a fine mist in the air, and everything is dripping with humidity. I don’t think these nooks and crannies get any sun to dry them out, and the path turns into a rust-colored mud bath. I watch Nikki eat shit and slip right on her ass, then Daniel almost do the same. The hikers up ahead of us also bail as they round a corner where the path disappears and becomes slippery rocks you have to scale over. I try not to laugh because I know that’s going to be me in a minute.

Everyone else is using the wooden poles to help them but I wouldn’t trust anything other than my own body, even as we come to a stream that cuts across the path, more slippery rock to navigate on both sides.

The last thing I want to do is fall, so I’m going as slow as I can, and while everyone is stepping over the rocks and sliding around, I’m using my hands to balance, going across like a crab. I don’t care if I look like a fool and my hands are covered in red mud, every part of me is a mess by now.

“Here,” Logan says.

I cautiously look up from the rocks to see him holding out his hand for me. I’ve paused on the top of one slick rock and have spent the last few minutes trying to figure how to get down without killing myself. I mentioned early that I didn’t have good balance, right? Well it’s really being put to the test here.

“Take my hand,” he says, more like an order than anything.

I want to push him away and insist I can do it myself. I think he knows that too, that’s why when I look into his eyes I see a wariness in them. He expects me to reject him.

So I don’t. I nod and give him my hand and put all my weight on him as I step down off the stone. When my feet hit the slick ground beneath, I slide but he’s got me. He’s as solid as a tree and he’s got me.

I blow a wet strand of hair off my face and look up at him. “Thanks.”

“No worries,” he says as he gradually let’s go of my hand. He then looks to Daniel and nods. “Keep moving. I have a feeling a system is moving in.”

Daniel and Nikki start moving up the trail as it heads back alongside the cliff, and to my surprise, Logan stays with me, walking just a foot or two ahead. I’m staring at the wall of his sweaty back, his shirt clinging to it. It’s a shame he’s not taking it off. I mean, that can’t be comfortable.

“How can you tell a system is coming in?” I ask. “Weather report said it was supposed to be partly cloudy. Least that’s what my phone said.”

“Never trust your phone here,” he says. “I can just tell. You pick up on the changes.” He breathes in deep and I watch his back rise, mesmerized. “Smell that? That’s rain. Somewhere up in Waimea Canyon, but it’s coming here and soon.”

“Well I don’t think this trail can get any more wet.”

“You’d be surprised,” he says just as my feet slip. I yelp as I reach out and grab onto his waist, my arms wrapping around him.

“Easy now,” he says, sounding amused.

I swallow hard and take in a deep breath, carefully moving my feet so I’m back upright. “That was close.”

“And if you fall, you fall,” he says. “If anyone gets back up, it’s you.”

There’s a strange tenderness to his voice but I’m not sure if I’m hearing things. My blood is whooshing in my ears pretty loud, my breath erratic. From the exercise, not because I just had a good feel of his abs, abs that felt as firm and hard as the rocks beneath my feet. Abs you wouldn’t mind running your tongue over.

“You’ll just have a permanent stain on your shorts,” Nikki yells over her shoulder. I snap out of it and look around Logan to see Nikki wriggling her tiny butt at us.

I laugh. “Well by the time this is over I’m pretty sure I’ll be covered in mud head to toe. I’m going to look like Rambo or something.”

“Rambo?” Logan asks. He stops suddenly which causes me to nearly run into his back, then he turns around. With a sly smirk on his lips, he reaches out for my face. I stay absolutely still, my breath in my throat, as he runs his cold, sticky thumbs under my eyes. “Now you’re Rambo,” he says rather proudly before turning back around.

I don’t need a mirror to know that he’s just rubbed red mud under my eyes like some tribal war paint. My skin tingles from his touch.

Fuck. That was an oddly intimate moment. I’m not even sure how to process that except give off a soft, albeit awkward laugh.

“Maybe I’ll clean off at the beach, I packed a bathing suit,” I say.