Page 7 of Entwined Hearts

I think of the ideas I have for my future, and a nervous flutter fills my insides.

“Until today, I had no idea you knew each other,” I say, unpacking several items from my box.

He starts pulling the jackets and fleece and t-shirts from their plastic sleeves. “It was years ago.”

“Were you friends?”

“Sort of?” he says. “I beat him at Nationals a couple of times. Then, we were on that Ketil climb.”

Great, they’re rivals. Just what this climb needs.

I smooth the front of a fiery orange-colored softshell. The fabric feels dense, smooth, and cold. I undo the tight, waterproof zipper and slide the jacket on, make sure it fits and the pocket zippers, Velcro cuffs, and drawcords work. There’s nothing like having gear fail halfway up the wall.

“I heard about Morocco,” he says in a quiet voice. “You doing okay?”

The breath in my throat suddenly feels trapped. I force myself to let it out. “Yeah.”

“I can’t imagine what you went through.”

I know he’s trying to be compassionate, but I’d rather not go into how I’m really doing.

“Well, if you ever need to talk,” he says, still watching me.

I force a smile. “Thanks.”

“That’s gonna look great on film.” Colby nods at the orange coat I’m wearing. “I can see it,” he says, framing me with his fingers and squinting one eye like he’s taking a photograph. “With the island chain and blue ocean below you and the black rock above.”

I try not to grimace, but he’s making me feel like a bug on someone’s specimen tray. “So, whatdidhappen to you?” I ask to change the subject, slipping the coat from my shoulders.

“Family stuff,” he says with a shrug.

I try to push away the hurt that he didn’t tell me about it then. Instead, he just disappeared and never answered my texts. “Everything okay?” I ask.

A look I can’t read crosses his face, but before he can answer, Jake and Meghan return.

“Ready for your photo shoot?” Meghan asks brightly.

A look of distaste passes over Jake’s features as he brushes by Colby to pick up his stack of clothes.

“Of course,” I say, gathering my samples and following Meghan out of the conference room. Behind me, I hear Jake and Colby fall in behind us. I wonder how we’re going to make it out of this office in one piece, let alone up twenty-six pitches of vertical rock.

Three

Anya

Meghan drops us in the expansive back room, where Angelo, the staff photographer, waits, testing his settings in an open area with screens for changing and racks for the clothes.

If Angelo can sense the tension going on between Jake and Colby, he doesn’t indicate it in his directions.

“Let’s do the Arête Pants, and keep the Fly Right Jacket handy,” he says in his subtle Italian accent. A tickle of anxiety races through my insides, twisting them into knots. “I want you in the Dri-Fit sports top,” he tells me.

After I step behind a screen in the corner, I set my pile of clothes on a stool and undress quickly, the air-conditioning making my skin prickle. The thought of Jake and Colby getting naked side by side behind the other screen makes my mind swim.

Colby and Jake emerge from their side of the room in stony silence, and we pad in our bare feet to Angelo’s tripod and silvery backdrop.

Angelo gives us a rundown of the shot list. He takes Colby first and arranges him, then moves behind his lens. Immediately, the soft snap and the flash of his camera illuminates the space.

“Are you going to be okay?” I ask Jake, glancing sideways as Angelo works Colby through a series of poses. I’m impressed with how easy Colby makes this look. His smile lights up the room. Somehow, it’s not fake.

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