Heat Wave

There’s a strange tenderness to his voice but I’m not sure if I’m hearing things. My blood is whooshing in my ears pretty loud, my breath erratic. From the exercise, not because I just had a good feel of his abs, abs that felt as firm and hard as the rocks beneath my feet. Abs you wouldn’t mind running your tongue over.

“You’ll just have a permanent stain on your shorts,” Nikki yells over her shoulder. I snap out of it and look around Logan to see Nikki wriggling her tiny butt at us.

I laugh. “Well by the time this is over I’m pretty sure I’ll be covered in mud head to toe. I’m going to look like Rambo or something.”

“Rambo?” Logan asks. He stops suddenly which causes me to nearly run into his back, then he turns around. With a sly smirk on his lips, he reaches out for my face. I stay absolutely still, my breath in my throat, as he runs his cold, sticky thumbs under my eyes. “Now you’re Rambo,” he says rather proudly before turning back around.

I don’t need a mirror to know that he’s just rubbed red mud under my eyes like some tribal war paint. My skin tingles from his touch.

Fuck. That was an oddly intimate moment. I’m not even sure how to process that except give off a soft, albeit awkward laugh.

“Maybe I’ll clean off at the beach, I packed a bathing suit,” I say.

“No,” Logan, Daniel, and Nikki say in emphatic unison. It’s like I’ve just suggested we ride mountain goats on the way back home, clicking coconuts together with our hands.

“The number of people who have died at that beach is…well, you’ll see. There’s a marker,” Logan says.

“Even the stream crossing can be dangerous,” Daniel says from in front of us.

“We have to cross a stream?” I ask, feeling the panic swirl through me. “I nearly died back there on a bunch of wet rocks.”

“I’ll carry you across,” Logan says.

“You fucking better.”

He eyes me over his shoulder, frowning as always, though his eyes are twinkling.

The rest of the trail is a combination of the steep cliffs and stupendous views which I take a picture of every second, and those muddy, slippery switchbacks. It feels like we’ve been hiking forever and it’s not getting any easier. I’m about to complain and ask how much longer we have to go when I see a family with two young children march past us, the kids in goddamn flip-flops!

“Oh my god,” I say, breathless as we round yet another steep bend. “Flip-flops? Here? On the muddy death trail? Let me guess, they’re locals?”

Logan shakes his head. “Locals would rather do this barefoot. Easiest to trust your own toes. Those are tourists and they’re lucky they’ve gotten this far without incident. One wrong step, one slip at some parts, well, you’ve seen it. You’re dead.”

Sweet. I feel so lucky we get to do this whole thing over again on the way back.

“Almost there,” Nikki shouts from up front.

We round yet another bend and finally there’s a glimpse of a rocky beach way down below. In the valley below the mountains, clouds descending over the sharp peaks further inland.

“Are those clouds coming our way?” I ask Logan. Where we are, the sun is strong and hot as hell, turning the ocean a deep azure and making the red dirt glow.

He nods grimly. “They’re moving slowly right now but the weather is unpredictable. I’m afraid we’ll just have to look at the beach, have some water and turn back. Believe me, it’s not a fun hike in the rain.”

“It’s not a fun hike in the sun either,” I tell him.

“Here,” he gestures to a wooden sign that reads:

Hanakapiai Beach Warning!

Do not go near the water

Unseen currents have killed:

And then beneath it there are a bunch of notches marking how many deaths there have been. I’m quick to count at least eighty.

Eighty!

“Holy shit, eighty people have died here!?” I exclaim, looking at Logan.

He shrugs with a sigh and wipes the sweat off his brow. “Not sure how accurate the count is, but it’s a lot.”

“So tell me, why are we going to this beach?”

He gives me a half-smile. “Because it’s fun, Freckles.”

“Fun?”

He turns and starts walking as the trail starts leading downward. “Admit it, you’re having a fucking blast.”

I roll my eyes and hurry after him. The ridge we’re walking on is exposed to the sun, so at least there’s no mud. “Yeah, walking for nearly two hours, covered in mud and sweat, with dangerous cliffs, rocks, and now killer beaches, is a lot of fun.”

“At least you’ve been able to stare at my ass this whole time.”

And just like that my eyes trail downward. Because, yes, I have been staring at his ass when I haven’t been looking over the edge to my imminent doom.

“You wish,” I tell him. “You’re just mad that I had a good idea during the staff meeting.”

He stiffens a bit at that. “You keep having your good ideas and I’ll keep shooting them down.”

“You didn’t shoot the first one down about the seating by the window. And it’s worked.”

“I was just being polite with that one.”

“Yeah right. You being polite for the sake of being polite. Now I’ve heard everything.”