Page 57 of Truck You

The crunching of leaves catches my attention. When I turn around, Mac is heading toward me.

When he’s close enough to hear, I ask, “I thought you were taking a nap?”

“I did. I only need ten or fifteen minutes, and then I’m re-energized. Couldn’t stay in the cabin another minute. Guess I took the same path as you.”

I turn back toward the river and watch as someone leaps from the bridge. Their body glides through the air with their arms spread wide. Moments later, their chutes open, causing their bodies to jerk and slow.

“Mind if I sit?” he asks.

I shrug. “Yeah, I guess.”

I kick my legs out in front of me and lean back on my hands with my face tilted toward the sky. My skin warms from the brightness of the sun.

He sits with his knees bent with his arms resting on them. “Ever done it?”

“Ever done what?”

“Base jumping.” He points to the person gliding toward the ground. “You were watching them jump with rapt fascination.”

“Oh.” I shake my head. “Always wanted to try, though.”

“What about whitewater rafting? Ever done that?”

“Nope. This weekend will be a first.”

“It’s a real rush.” He leans back and brushes his shoulder against mine, and my body lights up with anticipation. “You know that feeling you get when you first take off in a car? Your stomach drops and your body feels like it’s floating?”

Our eyes meet, and I get that stomach dropping, floating feeling right now. “Yeah,” I whisper.

“It’s like that, only more drawn out. With every rapid, your body actually flies up from the raft. You have to simultaneously row and hang on for dear life at the same time. It’s intense.”

“Sounds fun. I can’t wait. I love thrill-seeking adventures.”

He eyes me for a moment before a playful grin spreads across his face. “And yet you refused to ride the Zipper with me at the Apple Festival.”

“The Zipper spins upside down. I hate rides that go upside down.”

“But fast and dangerous is okay?”

“Yes. Fast with alittledanger is a must.”

He nudges my shoulder and winks. “Good to know.”

Then he lays back on the rock, stretches his body out, and rests his head on his arm. I make the mistake of letting my eyes linger down his tall frame. I can’t see his abs because of the jacket he’s wearing, but I know they are there.

“When I was little, I loved to look for patterns in the clouds,” he says. When I look over at him, he’s grinning. “Don’t make fun of me, but I still do it. Do you see that one right there?”

He points to a group of clouds right above us, and I lay back on the rock with him so I can see it better. “The one that looks like a mountain?”

He gives me a side eye glare. “That’s not a mountain. It’s a house.”

I chuckle. “How do you see a house? Just because one side has a point doesn’t make it a house.”

“Sure it does. Look.” He scoots closer to me and points at the clouds. “See the straight edges and windows? I can even see an outline for a door with the way the other clouds layer around it.”

“Wow, Mac,” I deadpan. “I didn’t know you had such an imagination.”

He drops his hand and it falls next to mine. “Are you making fun of me?”

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