“You can? That’s great. We’ll pick you up in a while.”
“Uh-huh.” I hang up, just in time to hear the only working shower in the house start upstairs. “Fionaaaaaaa!”
I manage to make it out to the front porch ten seconds before the boys arrive. Thanks to my awesome roomie’s timing, I haven’t had time to shower or brush my teeth, but that’s what deodorant and gum are for, right?
“Hey.” Ethan bounds up the steps with the kind of enthusiasm it would take me three lattes to achieve. It’s still cloudy out, and he’s bundled up in a loose gray sweatshirt emblazoned with that sports logo I’ve seen Grady wear. I asked Adam about it, and he says it’s for the Vancouver ice-hockey team. Ice hockey is big out here. “All set?”
“Sure!” Despite longing for the snug comfort of bed, I can’t wait to get going. “I’m ready for action.”
“And you’re all outfitted, too.” He takes in my clothing.
“Yeah, I was thinking about going for a skirt and halter,” I joke. “But since I had these lying around . . .” I’m wearing my brand-new lightweight trail shoes: a sale bargain, along with the sturdy navy long-cut shorts I picked up.
“Cool. There are some great trails we’ve been exploring, away from the main road and with awesome slopes.” Ethan’s voice is relaxed, but I still feel a tremor of nerves as I follow him out to the truck. It’s even muddier than last time I saw it, complete with a clutch of mountain bikes strapped precariously in the flatbed, but it’s what’s inside that’s worrying me. Or rather, who.
“Hi.” I clamber awkwardly up into the main cab, squeezing against Grady. Ethan climbs in after me, until we’re all crammed together on the passenger side while Reeve stretches out in the relative comfort of the driver’s seat. I’m jammed between denim and faded T-shirts, so close I can smell the faint citrus smell of body wash and that manly deodorant scent.
I think of my own hasty hygiene routine this morning and wonder if maybe I should have fought harder for the bathroom.
“Hey.” Grady grunts from under his baseball cap, and goes back to flipping through the radio dial. Reeve only nods in my general direction before starting the engine again and kicking us into gear. Casual, I get the message.
“Thanks for the invite,” I begin, still feeling out of place as we follow the road farther up into the forest. “I’ve never really tried dirt bikes, but it sounds like fun.”
“Yeah, well, this is just the kind of thing I need to get for the website,” Ethan replies easily. On my other side, Grady finally lets the station stay on an indie rock song and sits back, his elbow digging into me. His hair is damp from the shower (oh, the shower!) and it drips slowly onto my bare shoulder.
“How’s that going?” I try to shift the other way, but that only presses me tighter against Ethan. “I brought the camera, like you said.”
“Thanks. I’ve set up the basic page,” he replies, “and uploaded the kayaking footage.” At this, Grady makes a kind of snorting sound, but I try to ignore the memory of being upended into freezing cold water.
“Have you had many hits?” I ask, determined to keep the conversation going.
“Like, five?” He laughs. “But I’m not sending out the address until there’s more up.”
“True. I should take some photos of the B and B, but right now it would only scare them off!”
Ethan laughs, and I feel the vibrations against my side. “Yeah, what I’ve seen of the place isn’t exactly luxurious.”
“Never mind luxurious,” I add. “It’s still practically a health hazard.” We suddenly speed around a bend, and I’m thrown against him.
“Ahem, don’t mind us,” Grady mutters on my other side, kind of sarcastic.
“Sorry,” I apologize quickly, trying to disentangle myself.
“Don’t worry — I can take it.” Ethan looks amused. Grady makes another snorting sound. I look around, but nobody explains.
“Anyway, I’m really hoping this website project works,” I eventually finish, deciding to ignore their in-jokes. Something’s going way over my head, but I guess that’s just what happens when you’re new in town.
“Come on, give it a try!” Ethan cycles a slow loop around me later in the afternoon. After watching the boys hurl themselves down steep trails with no concern for the risk of breaking their necks and/or vital limbs, I decided to take on official filming duties — from the safety of a solid mound of dirt.
“I’m fine here!” I protest, still filming. Sunlight falls through the tree branches, dappling us with light, and I try to make the scene look as picturesque as possible — despite the mud streaking his face and the fresh bruises on his legs.
“You’ve got enough footage by now,” he argues, speeding up. The tires slip against the dirt as he circles me on the incline, and I start to get dizzy just watching him. “Besides, isn’t the whole point to show a newbie doing all this? Unless you get on the bike yourself, it’s not the same.”
“I don’t know.” I gulp. “I usually stick to flat terrain.”
“Coming through!”
I jump back as Grady and Reeve come racing down the hill. They whoop past us, going at least twenty miles an hour, before disappearing into the thick undergrowth. “How can they even see where they’re going?” I gape.
Ethan laughs. “You just hang on and hope for the best.”
“I’m beginning to think that’s a theme with you guys.”
“You can start slowly,” he points out. “You do have breaks.”
I waver. Despite the sheer insanity, there is a small part of me that does want to try — to experience whatever it is that has the guys yelling with such triumphant abandon.
“OK,” I say, suddenly brave. I edge down from my hill. “I’ll do it.”
“Awesome.” Ethan is already dismounting. “I’ll take that.” Before I can back out, he’s exchanging the video camera for gloves and kneepads. Fully protected, I walk slowly over to where “my” bike is resting against a tree.
“Brakes, pedals . . .” Ethan points out, joking. I fasten a helmet on and swing one leg over. “Seat height OK?”
I nod, not sure I’d know if it wasn’t.
“Then you’re all set.”