Page 24 of Tied Up in Riches

I hold back an overgrown bush branch and let Brooke pass me. “Nah. No time really.”

“Oh. What about that girl from the restaurant?”

“I met her for coffee.”

“That’s it?”

“My work schedule doesn’t allow for many detours.”

“Right. I am surprised you’re here. Why’d you even humor her with coffee then?”

Because I’m lonely as fuck, and I want to find something more important to me than work. “I promised Troy I’d make more of an effort to meet someone.”

“Like you promised Maci you’d come hiking today.”

“I’m a man of my word.”

“But why agree to do things you don’t want to do?”

“Who said I didn’t want them?”

She opens her mouth to speak but clamps it shut like she decided against her next question.

Getting to know her feels dangerous, but curiosity gets the best of me. “Do you have a boyfriend?”

She laughs. “I haven’t dated anyone in three years, let alone had an orgasm that wasn’t self-induced.” She glances back quickly, doing a terrible job of masking her cringe before she faces forward again. She continues on her way like she’s decided to commit to saying something to a near stranger that girls usually reserve for their closest friends. Thank fuck for that because it means she can’t see the deep breath I inhale at her words. I thought my three month dry spell was bad. Wait, what did she say? “So, you haven’t had sex?” I tiptoe a line that shouldn’t even be within sight, but she started it.

She shrugs, sparing me a quick glance over her shoulder. “Not in a while. Turned myself off, I guess. My first few months in Thailand were . . .” She stops so abruptly that I crash into her–not hard, but enough that I stumble a bit, and instinctively grab her to steady myself. She grins at the contact, like she’s not bothered, but her shoulders slump under my touch. “Well, to be honest, I was a total tourist slut.” She’s only a few inches from my face, the tone of her voice severely contradicting the sadness in her eyes. Shrugging again, she pulls away from my touch to continue on the trail.

“Everyone goes through a phase.”

“Did you?” she asks, holding her hands out for balance as she walks a log on the side of the path like a tightrope.

When I don’t answer, she glances over her shoulder to make sure I’m still here but doesn’t push. “What happened after the first few months?” Fucking hell. I mentally high-five my face. What is it about this girl that makes me want to know more? Getting to know people is rarely on my to-do list. I chalk it up to killing time on the hike even though I usually prefer the silence.

She stops in her tracks, but this time I don’t crash into her. Hopping off the log she was walking, she takes a few steps to where the trail opens up.

My favorite part.

The path loops around a deep valley with a pool of water at the bottom. Following along it will bring us to the backside of the waterfall pouring over the overhang of the massive moss-covered boulder on our left. I walk past her, assuming she’ll follow, but there’s no crunch of leaves or other signs of movement from her.

Turning around, I watch her take in her surroundings. Her eyes are locked on the waterfall, but then she slowly scans. She follows the path with her gaze, where the tree-lined trail turns into the rock wall holding up the waterfall. Past where I can barely see Maci and Dean making out like they are sixteen years old behind the rushing water. She spins ever so slightly, the toes of her Nikes grinding against the dirt as she continues to sweep the view, sunlight reflecting against the water, a group of hikers making their way around the next bend.

Her gaze locks on where the tail end of the waterfall meets its resting point, and stills. I hear the roar of the waterfall crashing into the pool below, but it feels like all I see is her. Her hands are in the pockets of her purple zip-up. Her blonde baby hairs are now wavy wisps framing her face, a little sweaty from the hike, or maybe mist from the waterfall.

A bird chirps nearby, and it breaks her out of her trance. She shakes her head, bringing herself back to reality. “Oh sorry,” she says like she didn't realize I was still standing next to her.

It’s not a problem, but I don’t say anything.

“It was just a glimmer.” Her words are soft like she’s worried they’ll be taken away if they’re said too loud.

“What’s a glimmer?” I step closer in case it’s a secret. Even if it’s not, for some reason, I want in.

She gives me a half smile. “A small, seemingly insignificant moment that sparks joy, peace or gratitude. Something that cues your nervous system to feel safe or calm. Basically, the opposite of a trigger. It’s nothing really.”

“Doesn’t sound like nothing.”

“I know it’s just a waterfall.” She sighs. “But, I don’t know. Nature has so much power, but it doesn’t want to use its power to control you. It wants you to have it, to soak it up, to enjoy it. It trusts you not to take from it. Most people who hold power over you want more than to just surround you with the beauty of life. So, focusing on things–nature mostly–that bring me peace helps me feel safe, I guess. Calm.” She chuckles, moving down the path again. “It’s way cheaper than therapy.”

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