“OK, OK, seriously, please don’t hit me!” Bowen tries to stifle his laughter, but to no avail. His breath rushes over my ear, making me shiver, “Can I let you go?”
I’m not dead. That’s a plus. So, I finally relax and stop fighting him enough to catch my breath.
Taking a deep breath, I exhale and with a long blink, “Yes.” I say, almost in a whisper.
Bowen loosens his grip and his arms slowly fall away from me. I run my hands up my cheeks and over my eyes, brushing the loose hair up and away from my forehead. I rest my hands on my hips and slowly turn around. Bowen is standing behind me, his body tilted slightly. He watches me with apprehension, trying to read my expression.
WHAP!
My arm flies up and I backhand his bicep. The crack echoes through the forest as he recoils, erupting in more laughter.
“God damn!” Bowen shakes his arm, backing away from me.
“Have you lost your damn mind?” I seethe.
Bowen goes silent, looking me up and down. I realize my fists are clenched at my waist, squaring off with him, as if I would win any fight. Then again, I have a pure line of adrenaline still running through my blood, so who knows what kind of response that’ll conjure up. But Bowen isn’t looking for a fight.
“I shouldn’t have done that, OK?” His tone is much softer now.
Still, what a dick.
I take a deep breath, suddenly exhausted. I hold it for a few moments, taking in the forest sounds. The calm is returning, and the adrenaline is dissipating. But…it felt good. The adrenaline felt good.
Bowen reaches down and gingerly touches my wrists. He slowly pulls me toward him and wraps his arms around my back, pressing his cheek against the side of my head. Maybe he thinks I’m about to have a breakdown or, at the very least, that I’m about to leave his ass on this ridgetop.
Instead, I silently untuck my arms from beneath his and drape them over his shoulders. He tightens his hold as I sink further into his chest. He feels nice. My body is calm again, but my thoughts are a chaotic jumble. This feeling—the one of imminent death—is one I’ve been trying to avoid for years ever since that one night. A few moments ago, I thought my life was coming to an abrupt end at the bottom of a sandstone ridge in Guernsey County, Ohio.
Talk about a sick joke.
But when I stood up and realized I was still alive, my chest nearly burst with exhilaration. It was like ripping off a band-aid. Except, now, I want to chase that feeling and rip off more band-aids and I’m clinging to Bowen like he’s the human manifestation of the feeling I’m trying to recapture.
Maybe he is. Maybe I shouldn’t let go…
“You were right,” I mumble into Bowen’s t-shirt.
He speaks softly into my hair, “About what?”
“This was a good idea.” I squeeze him tighter, pressing my fingertips into his shoulders.
“I told you I wouldn’t let anything happen to you,” he runs his nose along my temple, “I’m not going to be responsible for wrecking this pretty face.”
I push away from him and give him another slap. He grins and lets his hand slide down my arm as I step away, intertwining his fingers in mine.
He shoots me a coy grin, “You like it, don’t you?”
“What?”
“That high from being scared.”
I shake my head, “No.”
But maybe he’s a little bit right. I expected to crumble into a blithering pile in the dirt after screaming my head off. Instead, I was still terrified, but there was a spark that popped to life somewhere deep in my gut. I’d felt it before, a long time ago, and I never thought I’d feel it again. I didn’t want to feel it again, after what happened.
Until now.
I look up to see Bowen studying me with his intense, dark eyes. When he tilts his head, his hair falls away from his face and I see a scar that cuts from the left side of his forehead into his hairline and slices three inches over his scalp.
I peer up at him, “How’d you get that scar?”
Bowen’s eyes shift upward, “Got into a fight,” he cracks a smile, “in a cemetery.”
My eyes round, “You got into a fight in a cemetery?”
“Yeah,” he glances to the side, “back in high school. It’s a long story. Even a headstone got a lick in.” After a few moments, he looks around the empty clearing, “You ready to go?”
I nod, “Yeah.”
My voice is even and calm again, which is a good sign. I still think it’s a good sign an hour later, when we arrive back at the front steps of the lodge.
“I’m glad you didn’t turn out to be a serial killer,” I say as we arrive at the steps to the lodge.
Bowen chuckles and leans back against an oak pillar, “Well, it’s still early, after all.” He tilts his head, looking off into the distance like he’s in the midst of a decision, “How about you text me later when you’re free? I’ll come get you.”
I chew the inside of my cheek, considering his offer. I did have fun, but at the same time, I’m motivated and have to take advantage of the uninterrupted writing time. Suddenly, Barrett’s voice pops into my head with some advice from long ago.
If he’s worth a damn, he can wait.
“How about later tomorrow?”
