The Rules of Regret (14 page)

I
figured I was staring
—
probably
gawking
—
and
the fact that my jaw was unhinged made that pretty obvious. I didn
’
t really have a response, but I wasn
’
t sure he was looking for one. I was
just amazed at this person standing before me; amazed in more ways than I could
count. And that frustrated me, because in all honestly, I really wanted to
dislike him. He was doing such a good job helping me get to that point with the
ropes course and the swimsuit debacle. But now I really couldn
’
t. He sort of ensured my admiration.
It was hard not to admire someone who believed so strongly in something, even
if you didn
’
t
necessarily agree. Conviction was attractive, because it hinted at a passion
not all of us had.

“
Anyway,
”
Torin continued, swiftly waggling
his head,
“
to
answer your original question, I did have the chance to get an education. I
just don
’
t
necessarily think higher learning occurs exclusively on a college campus.
”

Before
yesterday, I probably would have disagreed with that statement, but the more
time I spent out here in the woods, and the more time I spent with Torin, the
more I learned about myself. But unfortunately, I didn
’
t really like the assignment I had
been given, or my current performance. And I figured I was getting a little too
friendly with the teacher. Either way, I was pretty sure I was getting a big,
fat F.

Oh,
I was learning, all right. I was learning that coming to Quarry Summit just
might be my biggest regret yet.

CHAPTER TEN

“
Take my hand.
”

There
was no way I was touching his hand again. I didn
’
t even like standing this close to
him because I was sure he could hear my heart ramming loudly against my chest.
It rang in my own ears like the methodic rumble of a freight train barreling
toward me. He had to be able to hear it
—
it
roared down the rickety tracks at breakneck speed. Chugga chugga, chugga chugga.

“
Darby,
”
Torin instructed, impatiently
fluttering his hand my direction.
“
Take
it.
”

“
I feel like this is one of those
‘
been there, done that
’
scenarios.
”

“
And that
’
s a problem how? Because in the past
girls really haven
’
t
complained about doing me more than once.
”

“
Yuck, Torin.
”
I grimaced and Torin laughed
outright.

“
I
’
m completely kidding, Darby. Just
take my damn hand, will you?
”

Reluctantly,
I grabbed onto his fingers, and they immediately tightened around mine, yanking
me with him without a second
’
s
hesitation.

We
slid down the ravine.

Well,
Torin slid, the tread of his shoes somewhat gripping the dirt underneath, while
mine more like skated over the surface. I felt as though I was hydroplaning
down the dusty embankment as my weight pushed forward onto Torin and he leaned
back into me with the pressure necessary to keep us both upright. So much for
walking the trails. This was definitely off the beaten path.

What
felt like our equivalent of skiing down the hillside suddenly came to a halt
when Torin hooked his arm around a nearby tree.

I
slammed into his back, ramming into him with full force.

“
Hey now,
”
he teased.
“
It
’
s really not necessary to throw
yourself at me.
”

“
Sorry Torin, but you
’
re not my type.
”
I stole his words from yesterday and
righted myself, dusting off my palms, flashing one of the widest grins I
’
d ever smiled.
“
I prefer guys that are much more
civilized.
”

“
Ouch,
”
Torin said, clutching his chest with
his one free hand.
“
Low
blow.
”

“
And educated.
”

Torin
threw his head back like he
’
d
been severely injured.

“
And good looking.
”

His
eyes grew wide.
“
Hold
up,
”
he interjected, hand raised.
“
I
might not be as smart and sophisticated as your Lance is, but I haven
’
t heard any of the campers or
counselors complaining about my looks.
”
A devious smirk broke across Torin
’
s
lips.
“
Just
the opposite, in fact.
”

“
I
’
m not into blonds.
”

“
Well, good thing I
’
m not blond.
”
Torin wove his arms over his chest,
his shoulder pressed into the tree trunk, the only thing keeping us from
slipping and sliding our way down the nearly vertical slope.

“
You are definitely blond,
”
I retorted, my limbs shaking. Okay,
maybe dirty blond, bordering on light brown, but still blond.

“
My hair is as blond as yours is red.
”

“
So you
’
re totally a blond then. Now that
explains a lot.
”

“
Do you honestly think I
’
m stupid, Darby? Because it
’
s starting to get a little insulting.
First mountain man, now dumb blond.
”

“
I don
’
t think you
’
re stupid,
”
I said, just as Torin snagged an arm
around my waist, noticing my body
’
s
nervous tremble. I sucked in a breath, because his body this close felt
amazing.
“
But
I do think you
’
re
amazing.
”

Torin
’
s head whipped toward mine.

My
face heated a thousand shades of red at my slip-up. It was like someone singed
my cheeks with a lighter and then left it there, just inches from my face so I
had to endure the burn.
“
Annoying,
”
I corrected, hurriedly, but it was
too late.
“
I
meant annoying.
”

“
You said amazing.
”

My
eyes rolled to the back of my head. I wished they would get stuck there just so
I didn
’
t
have to look at him.
“
Amazingly
annoying.
”
I hated that I had to hang onto him
—
that
I was literally clinging to him
—
in
order keep from sliding to my humiliating death. And I hated that my mouth
emitted words that my brain didn
’
t
give it permission to.
“
It
’
s
amazing
how
annoying
you are.
”

“
Not what you said.
”
In one sudden swoop, Torin flipped
around and swung me onto his back.
“
Hold
on,
”
he instructed, forcing me to wrap my legs around his waist. But I was grateful
for the help. Aside from Torin making me feel weak with those smirks he kept
firing my way, my muscles were dangerously close to shutting down completely
from trying to keep upright. I gripped him like it was a piggyback ride as he
sort of jogged/slid down the steep mountainside. It was the pace that was fast
enough to keep us from slipping, but slow enough that it wasn
’
t a full on run. I imagined him
losing his footing and both of us tumbling snowball-style to the bottom of the
ravine, our bones cracking and twisting the entire way down. I only had a small
ounce of confidence that this wasn
’
t
actually going to happen.

 
My shirt slipped over his bare back, and
just the thin layer of fabric between us slid in a way that made me want to
grip on tighter to avoid being so turned on by it. The gorge ahead crept closer
with each movement he made.

He
kept his hands tucked under my thighs until we safely reached the flat surface
of the valley floor and I could slide off of him, my feet meeting the dirt.

“
Wanna play a game?
”
He picked up the pack that he
’
d earlier launched down the hill. It
no longer looked black; at least an inch of dirt coated its canvas surface. In
an effort to shake some of the filth free, Torin thumped on it a couple of
times with a balled up fist, punching it like he was a boxer during a workout
session.

“
I don
’
t know.
”

“
It
’
s called Ten from Now,
”
he continued, slinking his arms into
his backpack, apparently satisfied with its appearance. Dirt clung to the
rivulets of sweat on his chest and it looked a little like war paint, marking
his body in an almost barbaric manner.
“
This
way.
”
He nodded toward the carved out path. Apparently the hill sliding was some
planned shortcut.

“
I said I don
’
t know.
”

“
Oh.
”
He sounded surprised.
“
I
’
m sorry. I thought you meant you
really didn
’
t
know if you wanted to play. I figured I
’
d
make up your mind for you.
”

“
Saying, 'I don
’
t know
’
is sometimes a polite way of
declining.
”
I wiped my palms onto the thighs of my shorts. It was hot
—
sticky-hot
—
where everything on
you perspired. I was pretty certain even my toes were sweating, the balmy
temperatures affecting every crevice and patch of skin.

“
No.
”
He shook his head at me.
“
A polite way of declining is to say,
'No, thank you.
’
Saying, 'I don
’
t
know,
’
just makes you indecisive.
”

“
No, I don
’
t want to play a game with you.
”

“
Oh, I see. Completely drop the polite
part altogether.
”
There was a clearing up ahead and I thought for a moment that we would stop to
rest there, but we walked right through it, picking up the trail on the other
side. Torin continued,
“
So,
what do you hope to be doing ten hours from now?
”

“
Is this the game? Are we playing a
game now?
”
I asked, chewing on the inside of my cheek and pinching my lips together.
“
I see how you did that, just barreled
right into it.
”

“
I hope to be sleeping in my bunk,
dreaming about hot girls in polka dot swimsuits and hiking boots.
”
He barreled right into his answer,
too.

“
I hope to be in my bed, dreaming
about political galas and soir
é
es.
”
Since there was absolutely nothing
else to do, I joined in on the barreling.

“
No one dreams about that.
”

“
Lance does.
”

“
So you guys dream the same things?
Like some magical, synchronized dreaming?
”
He pulled his hair back into what I figured was going to be a ponytail, but the
length of it just stopped a bit short and he tucked it behind his ear instead.
“
You don
’
t have your own dreams, Darby?
”

“
This is a silly game.
”

“
Ten months from now. What do you hope
to be doing?
”

“
Ten months...
“
I thought for a moment. What was on
the calendar ten months from now?
“
Lance
’
s mom
’
s campaign will be in full swing. I
’
ll most likely be working on that.
Pounding the pavement. Handing out flyers. You?
”

“
I hope to break ground on a new
center we have in the works for the camp. So I
’
m hoping I
’
ll be putting my skill-saw and
nail-gun expertise to work.
”
That sounded only slightly more exciting than my plans, but only because it
hinted at danger, and dangerous things were, by default, more exciting than
non-dangerous things.
“
Okay,
ten years.
”

“
In ten years I
’
ll probably be married with at least
two kids.
”
One boy and one girl, if Lance got his wish.
“
We
’
ll probably be living in the Bay
Area, or D.C.
”