wrong direction. Not that she worried about getting lost, not with Andrew here, but she wanted to do this, start to finish.
Andrew moved his head from side to side. A series of pops in his neck made her cringe. He swung his arms in a backward arc. “Ready?”
No . “Yes.”
She stepped up to the starting line, a straight strip of ground between two trees that Andrew cleared of leaves with his heel, trying to calm her rabbit pulse. On a deep breath in, she smelled the forest, alive and dying at the same time. Schrödinger’s scent. That made her giggle.
With his head cocked to the side studying her, dark strands spread across his brow, Andrew seemed more at ease than he had in the last month. Maybe that was because of her, maybe not. And so, what if she had something to do with his good mood? Secretly, she loved that they were talking again. Ignoring him for the last month hurt. He had become a part of her daily schedule, one she looked forward to and dreaded at the same time.
Now she recognized what she felt, and why, and instead of being afraid, Sawyer let her emotions drift like the tide. She didn’t have to do anything about these feelings if she didn’t want to. They were there, like air and the Theory of Relativity, and black holes. He stood there staring at her, and her skin felt paper-thin, like he could see her organs and knew what her thoughts were, and for the first time, she didn’t feel like drowning. She felt free.
Sawyer looked up at the powdered sky through orange, red, and yellow flames. She’d do this, and maybe, if Andrew wanted her to, she’d help him with Fundamentals—if he wanted her help.
She turned to him, her shoulders back, a lighthouse beaming in her heart. “I’m ready.”
“You can do this.” He squeezed her shoulder. Then Andrew got into position on the line, waited for her to follow his lead, and counted down. “Five—four—three—two—one.”
Andrew barreled ahead, and Sawyer kept on his heels until the first ladder. He beat her over and kept going. By the time she jumped down from a thousand feet, her heart doing the cha-cha-cha on her tongue, Andrew was so far ahead she couldn’t see him. She pushed her feet onward. Up ahead, on a tree about twenty-five yards away, she spotted the first speed bag and ran for the tree with her fists ready, just like he showed her.
She hit the bag once, twice, a couple more punches. Enough to get it moving and feel the burn—those were Andrew’s instructions. Hitting up was harder than it looked. Plus, Andrew’s six plus feet were giant compared to her five and one inch. She hit the trail again, coming to a thick fallen tree, and jumped over. Up ahead, another rope ladder. Sweat covered her skin. Her lungs stung with the cool air and exertion she wasn’t used to.
This time, Sawyer made it up the ladder faster, but hesitated before jumping down. Seeing Andrew up ahead from her vantage point, waiting for her, his hands on his hips and a cocky grin on his face made her push on. She landed with a jolt and ran the path up to Andrew, who continued on at a slower pace—still faster than her, though. She ran harder and faster than ever before. She ran, jumped, climbed, and punched, until her thoughts were the trees and her breath was the wind, and her heart became one with the forest.
By the time Sawyer crossed the finish line, her lungs only took in a teaspoonful of air at a time, her legs were on fire, and her stomach crotched itself into an untangle-able knot. She did it—she ran the course from start to finish. No giving up.
In the next breath, she met a wall of muscle and her feet left the ground. Sawyer gave a shout, half shocked and half giddy, as Andrew spun her in circles. Sunlight filtered through spindly branches. Cold air stung her cheeks.
“You did it!” He laughed and spun her faster.
For a minute she thought he might kiss her. The world blurred away until there was only Andrew, his warm, hard body holding hers,
Andrew moved his head from side to side. A series of pops in his neck made her cringe. He swung his arms in a backward arc. “Ready?”
No . “Yes.”
She stepped up to the starting line, a straight strip of ground between two trees that Andrew cleared of leaves with his heel, trying to calm her rabbit pulse. On a deep breath in, she smelled the forest, alive and dying at the same time. Schrödinger’s scent. That made her giggle.
With his head cocked to the side studying her, dark strands spread across his brow, Andrew seemed more at ease than he had in the last month. Maybe that was because of her, maybe not. And so, what if she had something to do with his good mood? Secretly, she loved that they were talking again. Ignoring him for the last month hurt. He had become a part of her daily schedule, one she looked forward to and dreaded at the same time.
Now she recognized what she felt, and why, and instead of being afraid, Sawyer let her emotions drift like the tide. She didn’t have to do anything about these feelings if she didn’t want to. They were there, like air and the Theory of Relativity, and black holes. He stood there staring at her, and her skin felt paper-thin, like he could see her organs and knew what her thoughts were, and for the first time, she didn’t feel like drowning. She felt free.
Sawyer looked up at the powdered sky through orange, red, and yellow flames. She’d do this, and maybe, if Andrew wanted her to, she’d help him with Fundamentals—if he wanted her help.
She turned to him, her shoulders back, a lighthouse beaming in her heart. “I’m ready.”
“You can do this.” He squeezed her shoulder. Then Andrew got into position on the line, waited for her to follow his lead, and counted down. “Five—four—three—two—one.”
Andrew barreled ahead, and Sawyer kept on his heels until the first ladder. He beat her over and kept going. By the time she jumped down from a thousand feet, her heart doing the cha-cha-cha on her tongue, Andrew was so far ahead she couldn’t see him. She pushed her feet onward. Up ahead, on a tree about twenty-five yards away, she spotted the first speed bag and ran for the tree with her fists ready, just like he showed her.
She hit the bag once, twice, a couple more punches. Enough to get it moving and feel the burn—those were Andrew’s instructions. Hitting up was harder than it looked. Plus, Andrew’s six plus feet were giant compared to her five and one inch. She hit the trail again, coming to a thick fallen tree, and jumped over. Up ahead, another rope ladder. Sweat covered her skin. Her lungs stung with the cool air and exertion she wasn’t used to.
This time, Sawyer made it up the ladder faster, but hesitated before jumping down. Seeing Andrew up ahead from her vantage point, waiting for her, his hands on his hips and a cocky grin on his face made her push on. She landed with a jolt and ran the path up to Andrew, who continued on at a slower pace—still faster than her, though. She ran harder and faster than ever before. She ran, jumped, climbed, and punched, until her thoughts were the trees and her breath was the wind, and her heart became one with the forest.
By the time Sawyer crossed the finish line, her lungs only took in a teaspoonful of air at a time, her legs were on fire, and her stomach crotched itself into an untangle-able knot. She did it—she ran the course from start to finish. No giving up.
In the next breath, she met a wall of muscle and her feet left the ground. Sawyer gave a shout, half shocked and half giddy, as Andrew spun her in circles. Sunlight filtered through spindly branches. Cold air stung her cheeks.
“You did it!” He laughed and spun her faster.
For a minute she thought he might kiss her. The world blurred away until there was only Andrew, his warm, hard body holding hers,
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