Wander and Roam (Wander #1) (12 page)

“Sage, I’m not sure…” I glance at the tent. “I’m not quite ready to…”

“What?” His eyes widen after a moment. “Oh, I didn’t mean for you to think... We can sleep on completely opposite sides, if you want.”

“Maybe not that far away.” I can’t even meet his gaze.

I must be completely confusing him. Heck, I’m confusing myself. I want to run from his touch, but at the same time, I yearn for it. Tonight, I don’t want to sleep alone, but I’m not quite ready for more.

“Can we snuggle?” I ask.

Sage dumps the dirt then leads me into the tent. “I am the biggest snuggle-monster.”

He pulls our sleeping bags together, unzipping and re-zipping until they form a single bag. We climb into the cozy shell, my back to his front. Sage rests one hand on my belly and the other on my arm. His soft exhales blow onto my neck, sending tingles in their wake.

I drift into the warmest, safest sleep I have had. Not once does Robbie haunt my dreams.

W
HEN
I open my eyes, Sage is nowhere to be found. Maybe his absence is a blessing, because I have no idea how to treat him after yesterday. Groggily, I unzip the tent and stumble out into the already warm morning.

“Good morning, sleeping beauty.” Sage hands me a tin cup full of steaming coffee. “Two sugars, no cream, if I remember right.”

He actually took the time to memorize my coffee likes. To hide my smile, I raise the cup and sip. The hot liquid nearly scalds my mouth.

“Careful, I plan on using those later.” He traces my lips with one finger. “Try not to burn them.”

I stare down into the swirling blackness. The memory of his touch lingers on my bottom lip. Sage’s bold words make me want to flee, but thoughts of yesterday stop me. For the first time in months, my loneliness disappeared for twenty-four straight hours. Instead of sitting around and pitying myself, focused entirely on the past, I took time to enjoy life in the present.

“Did you have fun yesterday?” Sage fiddles with a pan on top of the camp stove.

I can’t remember the last time I had so much fun. “I… I did.”

“You sound surprised.”

“It’s been a long time since…” I don’t know how to finish. Thankfully, he’s still cooking so I have space while I figure out how much I want to share. “Since I let myself enjoy life.”

Something sizzles on the stove. He stirs the pan then sets down his spoon. “Abby, this is more serious than I thought.”

“What do you mean?”

“Not allowing yourself to relish life is a tragedy.” He resumes cooking. “I mean, each and every day should be cherished, but if that’s too hard, at least give yourself today.”

“What’s special about today?”

“We have the entire day to ourselves. One whole day to focus on
enjoyment
.” He winks.

While part of me is relieved the flirting will continue, I don’t know how to respond. Luckily, I don’t need to, because Sage sets a tin plate upon my lap. Thick slices of Susan’s bread lie slathered in dark pink jam. Something resembling scrambled eggs rests next to the bread.

“Is this our jam?” I ask.

“Susan packed a jar for us.”

I take a bite of the scrambled stuff. Ugh, definitely
not
eggs. I try to keep my face neutral, but my nose scrunches despite my efforts.

Sage laughs. “I made a tofu scramble. It’s filled with all sorts of garden veggies and herbs.”

“What makes it egg-colored?”

“A sprinkle of turmeric.”

I pick out the veggies I can identify. A slice of zucchini, a spinach leaf.

“Try it. It’s super rich in protein and nutrients, and you’ll need the energy on our hike today.”

“Our hike?” He must have the whole weekend planned. Since staying busy helped yesterday, I can’t get too upset. If I could keep thoughts of Robbie at bay the entire weekend, that would be a first.

Maybe I will give myself today. An entire day, without the burdens and binds of my past, sounds so tempting.

“Do you mind if we visit the beaches today?” Sage balances his plate upon his knee while placing his hands together in a pleading motion. “Please, please, please.”

“Sure.” As I told him before, I planned nothing for this trip. I probably would’ve never even gone into downtown Sydney if it weren’t for Sage’s eagerness. “Do the beaches have something to do with your list?”

“Maybe.” He looks toward the ocean. “The beaches around here are supposed to be some of the best in the world.”

“If we’re going to the beach, why did you mention hiking?”

Sage’s eyes light up. “There’s this trail that runs along the ocean. You can stop at each of the beaches along the way.”

“So we’re going beach-hopping?” I’m so glad Susan suggested I pack my suit.

“You can be the first to change. I’ll clean up.” Sage gathers the dishes then throws dirt on the smoldering coals.

Inside the tent, I dig my bikini out of the bottom of my backpack. I can’t remember the last time I went swimming. Maybe my freshman year. My freshman year of high school, that is.

After changing, I pack what I’ll need for the day then sit by the still-warm ashes of the fire.

“I’ll just be a minute.” Sage disappears inside the tent.

He has done everything for our trip: made the arrangements, prepared the meals, set up the campsite. I open the cooler and fix our lunches, but the five-minute lunch prep isn’t nearly enough contribution. When Sage unzips the tent and steps back into the sunshine, I throw my arms around him. For a long, silent moment, I press myself to him, resting my forehead against his chest.

“What—?”

I raise one finger to his lips. “Thank you. For the camping, for the trip-planning, for everything.”

“No thanks for the scrambled tofu?” He winks before moving out of my embrace. Before he leaves my side, though, he entwines my fingers in his. “Let’s check out Bondi.”

Hours later, our fingers are still connected. As we float on our backs in the buoyant Bondi waters, we never separate.

Sage pulls me closer until we tread the water, face-to-face. He kisses each salty drop off my forehead, my cheeks, my nose, and my
lips. I finally untangle our fingers only to wrap my arm around his neck.

We’re deep in the water, past the splashing kids and wading old people, far enough out that the mass of bodies fades away. I gently suck on his bottom lip while holding onto him even tighter.

We barely need to move to stay afloat. I’m not sure if that’s due to the salinity of the water or the newfound buoyancy of my heart. All I know is I’m kissing Sage, he’s touching me, and we’re together in this wide-open sea.

“I understand,” I whisper between kisses.

He gently tucks a tendril of hair behind my ear. “Understand?”

“The ‘now’.” I brush his upper lip.

“We can wash away everything out here—the past and the future, problems and worries—so it’s just you and me. I’ve always loved that about the ocean.”

And then he’s kissing me.
Really
kissing me. I cling to him as my last hesitations and doubts float away, until it’s just Sage and I swimming in the never-ending waters.

When we finally break apart, I have no idea how many minutes, or hours, have passed. The lukewarm water only partially cools me. I’m not sure if it’s the sun’s relentless rays or Sage’s endless touch that has created this fire within.

“Thank you,” he whispers. “I get to cross off one more item.”

“What?” Words and thoughts slowly return to me. “We haven’t even started the hike yet.”

“Making out with a beautiful girl in a beautiful ocean.” He grins.

I can’t tell if he’s joking again or serious. “That’s something you’ve always wanted to do?”

He brushes my lips once more.

“I would’ve been satisfied with ‘swimming in the ocean.’”

“How long has it been since you’ve swum in the ocean?” Sage’s fingers tease the soft, exposed skin around my waist.

“Never.” I look toward the crowded beach, busy with families and sunbathers. “Beaches had too much sand and salt and stuff for my mother. As a kid, we would visit big cities like Toronto and New York. See the shows, eat at the fancy restaurants, shop in the high-end stores.”

“Never?” His fingers still. “What about with friends? You must’ve gone on a spring break trip. Isn’t that the senior ritual?”

“I never travelled with my high school.”

“Not once? What about band trips or college campus visits?” Sage stares at me. He must realize something’s off about my answers. I won’t give him the opportunity to keep asking.

“I wasn’t interested in extracurriculars.” I begin to doggy-paddle back to the shore.

When I glance back, Sage is still treading water. He watches me. His eyebrows lift as if to ask, “What did I say?”

“What about that beach-hopping hike?” I call before swimming away from the questions, away from the answers, and even further from Sage.

S
AGE WAS
absolutely right. Everyone should experience the Bondi to Coogee hike at some point in their lives. Our walk up steep cliffs overlying the ocean, down to secluded beaches, then up again, leaves me winded.

Well, I can’t actually tell if my breathlessness is due to the stunning scenery, the challenging hike, or Sage’s persistent kisses. If I have to be honest, it’s probably not the hike, as Sage stops me every few feet. He points out an orb-weaver’s web, a lone wildflower, and ancient rock carvings. With each stop, he strokes my cheek, brushes back my hair, or caresses my lips.

As we come across the first beach, Sage spots surfers far out in the water. “Want to make a bet?”

“What kind of bet?”

“Who’ll catch their wave?” He points to the brightly colored bodies dotting the ocean. “You win, you collect a favor. I win, the favor’s mine.”

“What kind of favor are you expecting?”

His smile spreads across his face. “If I told, that would take all the fun out of it. Are you in?”

“You’ll rue the day you bet me.” I turn my attention to the water. “You haven’t discovered my competitive side.”

“You? Competitive? I don’t believe it.” Sage leads us off the trail and down to the beach. He finds a spot in the warm sand, not too far from the water, and sits.