Total pages in book: 196
Estimated words: 186555 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 933(@200wpm)___ 746(@250wpm)___ 622(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 186555 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 933(@200wpm)___ 746(@250wpm)___ 622(@300wpm)
So that’s what I did.
And I’d be lying if I said it didn’t make me feel better that I could tell when Amos started slowing down too. The distance between us got shorter and shorter.
And just when I thought we were going to the end of the fucking earth and these waterfalls didn’t exist, Amos stopped for a second before turning to the left and hiking up.
The rest of the hike went by with me having a huge smile on my face.
We finally walked by other hikers who called out good mornings and how-you-doings that I answered when the other two didn’t. I took more pictures. Then even more.
Amos stopped after the second waterfall and said he’d wait there, even though each one was just as epic as the last.
And surprising the shit out of me, Mr. Rhodes followed behind me, still keeping his distance and his words to himself.
I was real glad he did because the path after the last of the four waterfalls got undefined and I turned in the wrong spot, but fortunately he caught sight of the path better than I did and tapped my backpack to get me to follow him.
I did—looking at his hamstrings and calves bunching the whole incline upward.
I wondered again when he got a chance to work out. Before or after work?
I took more selfies because I sure as hell wasn’t going to ask Mr. Rhodes. And when I turned as he kept hiking upward, legs stretching as he made his way up the loosely graveled trail, I aimed my camera toward him and called out, “Mr. Rhodes!”
He looked, and I snapped the picture, giving him a thumbs-up afterward.
If he was irritated with me taking a picture, too bad. It wasn’t like I would share it with anyone but maybe my aunt and uncle. And Yuki if she scrolled through my pictures one day.
Amos was exactly where we’d left him, shaded by trees and boulders, playing a game on his phone. He looked way too relieved to be leaving. His bottle of water was mostly gone, and I was just about finished with my own, I noticed.
I needed to get a straw, some tablets to purify water, or one of those bottles with a built-in filter. The shop carried all of that.
I was too busy trying to catch my breath on the walk back that none of us said anything then either, and I took the tiniest sips along the way, regretting like a motherfucker that I hadn’t brought more.
What felt like an hour later, something tapped my elbow.
I glanced back to find Mr. Rhodes just a few feet behind me, holding his big, stainless steel water bottle toward me.
I blinked.
“I don’t want to have to drag you out when you start getting a pounding headache,” he explained, eyes locked on mine.
I only hesitated for a second before taking it, my throat was hurting and I was beginning to get a headache. I put it to my mouth and drank two big gulps—I wanted more, I wanted all of it, but I couldn’t be a greedy asshole—and handed it back. “I thought you finished yours too.”
He slid me a look. “I filled it back up at the last waterfall. I have a filter.”
I smiled at him a lot more shyly than I would have expected. “Thank you.”
He nodded. Then he called out, “Am! You need some water?”
“No.”
I looked at his dad, and the man just about rolled his eyes. At some point, he’d put a cap on his head too, just like his son, pulled low so I could barely see them. I hadn’t seen his jacket, but I’d bet he’d rolled it into his pack at some point.
“Will you drag him out too or would you carry him?” I joked quietly.
I was surprised when he said, “He’d get dragged too.”
I grinned and shook my head.
“He’s used to the altitude now. You’re not,” he said behind me, as if trying to explain why he’d offered me fluids. So I wouldn’t get the wrong idea.
I slowed down my walking, so he was closer before I asked, “Mr. Rhodes?”
He grunted, and I took that as my sign to ask my question.
“Does anyone ever call you Toby?”
There was a pause, then he asked, “What do you think?” in the closest thing I’d heard to a pissy tone.
I almost laughed. “No, I guess not.” I waited a second. “You definitely look like more of a Tobers,” I joked, glancing over my shoulder with a grin, but his attention was down on the ground. I thought I was hilarious. “Would you like a granola bar?”
“No.”
I shrugged and turned back forward. “Amos! You want a granola bar?”
He seemed to think about it for a second. “What kind?”
“Chocolate chip!”
He turned and held out his hand.
I tossed it at him.