Page 74 of Reckless Hearts

I curl into Flynn’s side, pulling out the thermos of coffee I brought with us, pouring him a cup along with one for myself. Holding the mug close, I let it warm my hands, the steam floats up, and with it comes a small blast of heat.

The sun begins to fill the sky, backlighting the clouds with sherbet-colored hues of pink and orange and red. A stunning mix that feels like a painting, and we bask in it.

Reaching back into the backpack, I pull out some trail mix and a banana, offering one to Flynn. He chooses the trail mix, opening it, he offers me some. I pour some into my hand, rooting around, pushing the almonds out of the way.

“What are you doing?” he asks, watching me.

“I hate almonds. They taste like sawdust.”

“When was the last time you ate sawdust?” he questions, chuckling.

“Never, but they’re dusty tasting. I hate them. Sloane loves almonds, so when I eat trail mix, I give them to her. We make a good team.”

“I love learning all these quirky little things about you,” he says, smiling as he plucks the almonds from my palm, tossing them into his mouth.

“Tell me something about you,” I say, the crowds beginning to disperse as the sun loses its appeal.

“Hmmm,” he starts, his eyes focused on the sky, still enjoying the view. “My mum’s a Brit, so she loves mushy peas.”

“Mushy peas?”

“Yeah, it’s like mashed potatoes, but with peas. I hate it. She made it all the time when I was a kid, and she’d always say, ‘Just try it, Flynn. Maybe you’ll like it this time. Tastes change.’ My taste never changed. That shit is disgusting. Still is.”

“Do you like regular peas?”

“Nope. Hate those too.”

I laugh. His hatred for peas matches mine for almonds. I note it and remind myself not to make anything with peas for dinner.

We both finish off the last of the coffee, standing as we get ready to head back down. But this isn’t where our time at Haleakala ends. It’s where most of the tours end. Racing up the mountain to see the sunrise and then back down and into the tour bus.

There is so much more to see here, and we’re going to cover it.

And cover it we do. Driving over to the east side, we take in the waterfalls and the lush bamboo forests and green glowinggulches. It’s a place that most don’t see, and I love how much Flynn is taking it in and enjoying it.

Neither one of us checks our phones, only snapping pictures with the Go-Pro I brought with me. I love to disconnect, and it seems Flynn does too. He needs it with all the drama he deals with, Jade being the bulk of it.

“God, Alana,” he says, letting out a hard sigh when we make it back to the car for the second time today. “This has been unreal. Thank you.”

Wrapping his hand around the back of my neck, he grips tightly, pulling me to him for a kiss.

“You’re one hell of a tour guide,” he now says, his forehead resting against mine. “You should start charging people for this.”

“Never. I like to reserve it for the people I really like.” As the words leave my mouth, the words “I love you” float around, begging to be said.

I’ve never been in love. I used to think I had been when I was young and stupid, falling for surf boys with hot bodies and skills on the water. It was lust, hardcore lust because they turned out to be dicks, leaving me for someone else or disappearing just as quickly as they came into my life.

It’s all for the best, though. I wouldn’t know that what I’m feeling now is love without them. Skating around telling him, the words desperate to escape, but I take the easy way out.

“I really like you too,” Flynn whispers, his lips close to mine and I feel the heat of his breath setting my skin on fire.

I can’t believe there was a time I thought I could stay away from him. It feels insane now, especially with how much we have in common and how much I enjoy spending time with him.

He loves everything I love. Hiking and surfing, spending nights on the couch watching TV, and cooking together. Waking up early for crazy shit like this, and there’s no one I’d rather be with at four in the morning than him.

“You ready to do some of the best surfing of your life?” I ask him, knowing he’s hit up plenty of the well-known spots, but this is something else entirely.

Private and untouched, and the swell is some of the best and most predictable. We’ll catch wave after wave if he’s up for it.

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