The Romantics(20)

Gael certainly wasn’t ready to jinx anything by telling them about Cara. One impulsive kiss, plus a trip to REI, did not a relationship make.

So he shook his head and hoped neither Danny nor Jenna could see the color rising to his cheeks.





welcome to the friend zone: temporarily, at least


On Tuesday, Gael asked Cara if she wanted to test out her recent purchase on the Bolin Creek hiking path near his house.

He was surprised by how quickly she said yes.

(Knowing Cara, I wasn’t.)

“How are the new shoes?” Gael asked as they stomped along the dirt path, tall trees rising around them.

“Great,” Cara said forcefully, though the way she hobbled along made it look like they were anything but.

“Are you sure?” Gael asked. “I can drive us back to your dorm and we could get different shoes. Or we could take a break. Or we could do something totally different if you don’t want to hike.”

He took a deep breath, reminding himself not to sound so eager. All Gael wanted was an escape from his old life, and this new girl who knew exactly zero of his friends seemed like just the person to give it to him. So long as her feet didn’t start bleeding. “Really, we don’t have to do this if you don’t want,” he said.

“I’m fine,” she said, as leaves scattered across the path. “They just need to be broken in. Just like the guy at the store said.”

Gael forced out visions of that universally good-looking REI dude. Just because Anika put traditional good looks over everything else didn’t mean that all girls did.

As the wind whistled through the trees and the creek trilled in the distance and the sunlight made funny shadows on Cara’s skin, Gael couldn’t help but think about their kiss. It had been wonderful. Unexpected. It had reminded him of his first kiss with Anika. Not in an oh-please-shoot-me-now-I-will-never-forget-about-Anika kind of way. More in a maybe-life-does-go-on sort of way.

And she’d kissed back, if only for the tiniest of seconds. He knew that she had.

He forced himself to stop picking the skin on the side of his thumb. REI guy types certainly didn’t do that when they were nervous. In fact, the Masons and REI guys of the world didn’t ever seem to get nervous. Bastards.

Gael pointed to a clearing. “If you take that path, it heads to a bench near the creek. We could sit down for a minute and take a break,” he said.

“Sweet,” Cara said. She skipped up ahead of him, obviously eager to rest her feet.

As he caught up to her, the sound of the rushing creek intensified, matched only by the sound of rushing, pumping blood in his ears. Cara might not be perfect, Gael thought, but who was? So what if she had bad taste in movies and music? So what if she was perpetually late (he’d waited only eight minutes outside her dorm this time)? So what if she wasn’t a coffee snob like he was? So what if she was a tad pushy at times . . .

Cara sat down on the rickety bench and immediately loosened the laces on her shoes. Gael noticed a tiny metal plaque he’d never seen before:

FOR MARY, WHO MADE ME HAPPY EVERY DAY.

YOU WILL ALWAYS BE IN MY HEART.

Gael almost wanted to keep walking and find a slightly less sentimental bench, but it was too late. Cara grabbed his hand and pulled him down next to her.

Then again, he thought, maybe the bench was a sign.

(No, Gael. It was not a sign.)

Once they were properly seated on the bench of eternal love, Gael opened his backpack and pulled the water bottles out. He handed one to Cara and then drank his down in a few gulps.

“Whoa, there, killer,” she said.

Gael laughed nervously. “I guess I was a little thirsty.”

He put the cap back on and stuffed the bottle into his backpack. Then he turned to Cara.

Her face was flushed, her forehead shiny, her eyes glistening, her hair pulled into a messy ponytail that never would have passed Anika’s standards. Her clothes wouldn’t, either: She wore bicycle shorts and a long-sleeve T-shirt from Bandido’s, a crappy Mexican restaurant and Franklin Street institution. The one time he and Anika had gone hiking together, she’d worn hot pink spandex pants, a matching top, and a polka-dot sports bra.

Yet there was something refreshing in the way Cara didn’t seem to care about her clothes. Something genuine, honest. Maybe it was illogical, but it didn’t seem like a cheater’s uniform, that was for sure.

A lock of hair escaped Cara’s haphazard updo and danced in the slight breeze from the creek.

The kiss had been great, but the lightness, the escape from numbness, had worn off so quickly. And suddenly all he wanted in the whole wide world was to get it back.

Before he could second-guess himself, Gael reached to tuck the errant lock of hair behind Cara’s ear, ran his thumb along her slightly sweaty jawline, and leaned forward, eyes closed . . .

“Wait!”

Gael’s eyes snapped open. Cara vigorously shook her head.

For a split second, she looked almost wild with fear, but then she composed herself.

“Gael,” she said, her voice soft and slow and drawn out, almost one-note.

Here goes, Gael thought glumly. He stared over her head at the trees, unconsciously picking at his thumb again.

Her words came in a rush, like she was one of those fast-talking, bright-eyed young reporters in a black-and-white movie. “It’s not you. You’re amazing. It’s just that, I know people always say this, but it’s really not you.”