Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 82060 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82060 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Ally would have probably kissed him by now just so he’d be under no illusions she was into him.
I jerked my head from side to side to shake myself out of it and replied, “It’s poetry. He gives me stuff to make me think, you know, like, to decipher it. Figure out what it’s about.”
Even though I’d made the mammoth effort to string some words together, I wasn’t sure he was listening to me.
I knew he wasn’t when I saw the expression on his face when he looked at me again.
“Who’s cutting you ’til you cry out?” he growled.
Oh my.
I’d never heard a boy growl.
Hearing it, something was happening in other regions of my body, not just my legs and my ability to provide it with oxygen. That something felt very good, at the same time it was utterly terrifying.
“No one. It’s just…life. Life will…I haven’t had a good look at it, and I’m not sure I know that song, but from what I could tell, it’s about life. You know, standing strong like a boxer when life hits you. Um…I think.”
He handed me the paper again, this time letting it go when I took it.
“No one’s gonna cut you,” he said, staring straight in my eyes.
“Life is life, Darius,” I whispered, then for good measure, shrugged.
Did I look like a dork shrugging?
I looked like a dork shrugging.
I shouldn’t have shrugged.
Someone kill me!
“You’ll never have to be the boxer, Malia.”
It was said soft, but strong, and that did funny things to my heart.
All I could think to say was, “Okay.”
“Wanna go out?” he asked.
There was only one thing to say to that.
“Okay,” I repeated.
Darius again smiled.
I again almost swooned (now I was getting all that romance novel nonsense, which apparently wasn’t nonsense at all, shoo!)
I didn’t swoon.
I kept it together.
And smiled back.
* * * *
We neared the crest, and as I continued to pretend the hike wasn’t killing me, Darius, who was a few paces ahead of me (and not breathing hard at all!), stopped and looked to me with a brilliant smile on his face.
“Here it is,” he said, then turned his head to look back over the crest.
I stopped beside him and didn’t, at first, look where he was looking.
I was watching him.
It was our first date. He’d taken me up to the mountains. And if the big backpack and small cooler he was carrying was any indication, we were going to have a picnic.
At least, I hoped we were going to have a picnic. That hike was long, and most of it was uphill.
I was a cheerleader. It wasn’t like I wasn’t in shape.
But…dang.
Seriously, altitude was no joke.
Now I was hungry, thrilled we were finally there, even more thrilled the way back was all downhill, all of this while being thrilled I was with Darius at the same time hoping the massive effort I’d put into getting ready that morning hadn’t been in vain.
In one of our five (yes five, in less than that many days!) phone conversations since he asked me out at Fortnum’s, Darius had warned me I needed to wear comfortable clothes for our date. He told me we were going into the mountains, the hike was a little over a mile, and it’d take some effort.
Although on the face of it that sounded romantic, it was harder than heck to figure out what to wear during a date like that.
So hard, my sister Lena and best friend Toni had spent two hours rejecting outfits I tried on until I found the right one.
We’d decided jean shorts and a cute little top that was orange and had a gold design in it. It was gathered at the high neckline and held up by a spaghetti strap that ran through the front and back of the material.
I wore my hair straightened, and I’d twisted it up in a messy topknot. But I was worried that the wisps of hair around my face that I’d laid down so carefully had now peeled away and gone curly and made it all look just plain messy.
Since Darius didn’t stop looking at whatever “here” was, I turned my head that way.
And caught my breath.
In front of me, a wide basin lay, flanked by mountain peaks and filled with wildflowers.
“Oh my God,” I whispered reverently.
“Hank found it,” Darius told me.
Hank being Lee Nightingale’s older brother, a guy everyone knew even if he’d already graduated because he was a) a talented athlete, b) super sweet and c) gorgeous, so he was also d) very popular.
Hank was also the antithesis of Lee’s bad boy. Perfect grades. Perfect boyfriend (reportedly). The boy next door. The good guy.
“We hike up here all the time,” Darius went on.
“It’s amazing,” I told him.
He took my hand, and I looked to him.
“C’mon,” he said softly, his eyes on me in a way I suddenly didn’t care if the wisps around my face got too wispy.