Page 41 of Secret Nights and Northern Lights
A dimple forms in his left cheek as he laughs, and now I’m more than travel-high, I’m fucking soaring.
“Okay, okay,” he says, shaking off his laughter to match my faux attitude. “What are we hawking?”
“Hmm…” Tapping my chin, I glance down at my rain jacket, hiking pants, and mud-covered boots. Not many options here. “I suppose these hiking boots. The caption could be something like, ‘Your feet will take you on the journey of a lifetime. Support them as they do. Link in bio.’ ”
Ben bites the inside of his cheek, trying to keep his smile at bay. “Perfection. Come here.”
My stomach somersaults approximately three times as I walk to him, and then twice more when he tugs on my wool cap and adjusts my braid over my shoulder. Wisps of damp hair blow against my cheek as the wind picks up, and a cool shiver rolls down my spine, notch by notch. This is the closest I’ve come to Ben since last night, and memories of our almost-kiss replay in my mind. Ben’s sharp, green eyes meet mine again, and I know he’s thinking about it, too.
He clears his throat before the moment can linger. “Follow me.”
Ben helps me over a few large, slippery rocks as we near the edge of the path and close in on the underside of the falls, and I squeeze his hand a little tighter as nerves vibrate from my fingertips to my toes. Another point in Kvernufoss’s favor: From our spot behind the falls, we’re notthathigh up. If I fell over the edge, I wouldn’t necessarily die, probably just break a femur or tibia or something.
Stepping onto the final boulder, Ben pulls me up behind him, then asks, “You okay?”
And this time, despite my fear, I confidently look him in the eye and say, “Yeah, I’m okay.” Because I’ve already decided today will be a good day. Today I’ll ignore the voice in my head telling me I’m not cut out for this. Today I’ll be the Mona Miller I’ve always wanted to be.
Ben turns me to face the waterfall. “Put your arms in the air,” he says at my back.
“Like this?” I stretch my arms straight up.
His deep burst of a laugh puffs warm breath onto the back of my neck. My skin pebbles. “No. Like this.” He tugs on my arms until they’re lowered out at my sides. “Now tilt your chin up.”
I do as he says, imagining how this must look from behind. In the photo, my back will be to the camera as I stand on a boulder facing the underside of a magnificent waterfall, the earthy greens and browns of the gorge in the background, my arms outstretched as if I’m embracing the entire world and anything it could throw my way.
Ben moves away from me, and I hold my position while he gets into place. “All right,” he says, camera already clicking away, “on the count of three, say ‘influencer,’ ” and I hope he manages to get a few good ones before I erupt with laughter.
* * *
Iceland is one big island of waterfalls. More than ten thousand, by some estimates. And today feels like a competitive waterfall treasure hunt (minus the fun clues, sadly) as we rush from site to site, trying to squeeze in as much as possible while also allowing time for Ben to pull over and take photos when we happen upon an incredible view we hadn’t planned for (which happens A LOT). Normal tourists might linger at each of the places for hours, but Ben and I don’t have that luxury. So we speed through tourist favorite Seljalandsfoss falls and the lesser visited Gljúfrabúi waterfall to ensure we have ample time at our last official stop of the day, Nauthúsagil ravine.
Admittedly, this one makes me nervous. To reach the main event—a tall, skinny waterfall tucked away in a small alcove deepinside the ravine—we must hike through a river and then scale a smaller, prequel of a waterfall. Not to be concerned though—according to Suki—because there’s a metal chain to assist us in our climb. Up the waterfall.
So, No Worries At All!
As we exit the SUV, I’m haunted with memories from eighth grade when I attempted to climb a rope in gym class (not by choice). It did not go well, and I’m afraid this might be an equally traumatizing experience. It certainly doesn’t help that the most arduous activity of the day is also the last, when my body is tired and depleted. Come to think of it, eighth-grade gym was at the end of the day, too. Obviously, that must have been my hindrance.
Anyway, it doesn’t really matter because this is the day I prove to myself I can do this job just as well as Suki or any of the other Internationals. A day where I embrace every challenge Iceland throws my way. A day where I’m unstoppable, damn it.
“You ready?” Ben asks as he switches the lens on his camera at the rear of the SUV.
“Yes!” I reply way too enthusiastically after my internal pep talk.
Ben shoots an odd look at me before carefully tucking away the previous lens in its devoted section of his camera bag.
“Just hyping myself up. Ignore me.”
Slamming the lift gate closed, he slings the backpack over his shoulders. “You’re impossible to ignore, Ems. Always have been.”
He sets off toward the entrance to the ravine while I lag behind and pretend those words didn’t send my stomach into a state of free fall. Then I quickly compose myself and rush to catch up to him.
Entering the ravine, I tread over the slippery stones, keeping one hand on the rock wall next to me for balance. We hike for what feels like an uncomfortable amount of time to be wandering deeper and deeper into a ravine with no one else in sight. Just as I open my mouth to ask Ben if he’s sure this is the right way, the “mini waterfall” comes into view.
And, okay, it doesn’t lookthatintimidating. Taller than me, sure, but not the sweeping cascade of water I’d pictured in my head.
Up ahead, Ben turns. “We need to cross here,” he says, and points to the opposite side of the ravine. Strung along the far rock wall is a thin metal chain.
Crossing the stream isn’t difficult. The water isn’t very deep and thanks to my not-broken-in, blister-inducing waterproof boots, my socks and leggings stay dry. Reaching the opposite side is when footing becomes harder to find along the ravine wall. Hence the chain. I copy Ben’s movements, taking hold of the chain in both hands and hauling myself up along the cavern wall, toes and ankles turned outward as my face is brought within inches of cold, wet rock.
