Page 55 of I Hope This Doesn't Find
“That one of us will drop dead and the school will end up involved in a long, painful, costly lawsuit despite the fact that they made all our parents sign that form that says in very fine print that nobody is to blame if we’re injured, abducted, or murdered.”
“Close, but no. If we die, that’s very inconvenient for them. If we hook up, that’s both inconvenientandawkward for them.”
I’m pretty sure all my organs stop functioning. “What—”
“When I saywe, I obviously don’t mean—us,” he clarifies, and despite the taunting note in his voice, his cheeks turn red. He’sblushing, I realize. It’s so bizarre. So unlike him. It’s a visible weakness, and I quietly file it away for later use. “I mean in general. I believe there’s a scientific equation for it: The probability of teenagers sneaking into each other’s rooms and hooking up increases by zero-point-four when you put them in a scenic beach setting.”
“You’re making that up,” I tell him. “You’re literally just saying that because you enjoy disagreeing with me.”
He rolls his eyes. “Don’t flatter yourself. I’m only saying what I know is true.” Then he moves to take down the beach retreat flyer from the board.
In one quick movement, I clap my hand over his. Force his fingers to flatten. Ignore the heat of his skin against my palm. “We’re meant toagreeon a destination together. And I don’t agree with you right now.”
“When have you ever?” he mutters. But he shakes his hand free from mine, which should be more satisfying than hurtful.
“I’m not saying that it wouldn’t be an issue if the retreat turned into some kind of . . . matchmaking process,” I tell him. “But is the beach necessarily conducive to that? Who says it has to be romantic?”
“I don’t know,” he says sarcastically, pretending to think. “Only every movie and beach read and song to come out in the past decade.” He must see the stubborn disbelief written over my face, because he tilts his head. Sighs again. “Okay, since you’re so lacking in imagination, let me set the scene for you. It’s sunset, the sky is the perfect shade of pink, the air just warm enough that you can slip out of your sweater and set it down on the sand like a towel. You can hear the waves lapping against the shore, taste the salt on your tongue. There’s music playing softly from someone’s phone speaker. You’re sitting next to the person you’ve been eyeing for the whole semester, and when a breeze rises and messes up your hair, he lifts his hand and . . .”
And he actually demonstrates, reaching out across the tight space and brushing a stray strand of hair behind my ear, his cool fingertips grazing my skin. It’s such a small, brief motion, the lightest touch. It’s pathetic that I would even notice it. But I feel a sharp pang echo through my ribs, so intense it almost resembles pain. My whole body overreacts as if I’m in mortal danger, my heartbeat thudding faster and faster until I can’t stand it. I squeeze my eyes shut against the emotion, and when I open them again, he’s staring at me, his jaw strained.
He swallows, once.
“I—don’t see your point,” I manage, my voice too loud.
His brows rise, his hand still lingering above my ear. “You don’t?”
It requires an incredible amount of strength just to speak. “No. And—” I push down the odd lump in my throat. Do my best to sound as flippant as possible. “I think you’re not giving our—peersenough credit. They havesomediscipline, you know. It’s not like they’re going to try and sneak off into the cabins to make out just because the view’s pretty and someone touched their hair—”
“Not even if they did this?” he asks quietly, and he leans forward. All at once he’s too close, overwhelmingly close. I’m frozen to the spot as he pauses on purpose, his mouth bare inches from the base of my neck, so I can feel his breath trembling against my skin. “Do you need me to demonstrate further?”
A low, hoarse sound escapes my lips. It could be a protest or a plea; I don’t know anymore. I don’t know anything.
“What was that, Sadie?” he presses, lowering himself by just another fraction of an inch—
I shove him away.“I get it.”My heart is still beating at an abnormal rate, heat coursing furiously through my veins. Yet even worse than my fear of what might’ve happened is the disappointment that it didn’t. And the fear that he can somehow sense my disappointment, the itch in my skin from where his mouth had hovered seconds earlier.Only physical attraction, I remind myself sternly. It must be some kind of unfortunate side effect left over from the kiss at the party. “I get it, okay? You didn’t have to make your case in such a disgusting manner.”
Something shifts in his expression. Then he smiles, and it’s as smug as ever. “Are you admitting that I’m right?”
“Yes. Fine. Whatever,” I spit out. I’ve lost the argument, but it feels like I’ve lost something more than that. “Let’s hear your proposal, then.”
“That’s exactly what we should’ve done from the beginning.” He steps back and starts searching locations up on his phone with the brisk manner of someone in a business meeting, leaving me to wonder if I hallucinated the past five minutes. The only evidence of it is the uneven beat of my pulse and the hair tucked behind my ear. “How about this?” he asks, showing me the photo on his screen.
It’s a retreat in the middle of the mountain range three hours from here, and all the walls and floors are made of glass. It also happens to be suspended almost two thousand feet above a valley, with an “open-air seating area” available on the rooftop. The main website describes the views as “thrilling,” which I mentally translate into “terrifying.”
“You realize there are at least five people in our year level who are scared of heights, right?” I ask.
He doesn’t even bat an eye. “Then this is precisely what they need. Exposure therapy has been proven to work, hasn’t it?”
“How can you be so—socallous?” I demand.
“I’m not callous. You’re just soft.”
I grit my teeth. “Considerate, you mean. Thoughtful. Responsible.”
“In futile, stubborn pursuit of making every single person happy, is what I mean,” he corrects me.
“And what of it?” I shove his phone back into his hand. “This is the last trip we’ll ever have together as a year before we graduate. I want everyone to have the best time of their lives, and that’s not going to happen if some people can’t even comfortably walk from one room to another. Also, do you see the reviews? You literally need ahelmetand aharnessjust to climb into bed.”
