Heart of Stone by K.K. Allen

Author:K.K. Allen [Allen, K.K.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: K.K. Allen

Chapter Seventeen

Benson

Brooklyn loves to wear dresses, and I love to see her in them, but I’m not opposed to the look she’s rocking now. Skintight gray leggings and a baggy white muscle shirt with a black sports bra peeking out from beneath her arms. She’s as beautiful as she is stubborn.

Her jaw is set, and her eyes remain forward, but the way her pointer finger curls her long blond hair is a strong tell. She wants to be here. She just doesn’t want to want to be here. Which is disappointing considering she’s the first woman I’ve ever asked to go on a hike with me, let alone stay in my van consecutive nights in a row.

Usually those things happen by accident. I’ll meet a pretty hiker on the trail and strike up a conversation, which eventually leads to a quick fuck back at my campsite. Or a drunk conversation at a local bar will lead to a sleepover, followed by a hangover and a miserable hike the next day.

“So, what’s on the agenda first?” she asks. We’re sitting in my van on the ferry that will take us to Orcas Island, and it’s the first time she’s spoken since we left her place.

I relax back in my seat. “We’ll park the van at our campsite and then head out for the hike. Have you ever hiked Turtleback Mountain? Best view in all of San Juan Islands in my opinion.”

She shakes her head, darting a glance in my direction. “I’ve never hiked. I’m more of a hot yoga kind of girl.”

Her answer surprises me. “Not even when you were a kid? Every family around here has been to Turtleback at some point.”

A beat of silence passes where I wonder if I might have accidentally offended her.

“I grew up in Portland. My dad and I moved to Orcas when I was seventeen.”

She smiles, breaking whatever tension I thought might have been there. And it clicks that she and I only went to Orcas Island High senior year. Maybe that’s why I’m struggling to remember her.

“My dad wasn’t the hiking type either,” she continues. “He would have rather taken me out to a fancy dinner or splurge on some new jewelry rather than drag me up a mountain.”

The differences between Brooklyn and me are stark, which is why the comfort I feel around her is so incredibly confusing. She’s like a breath of fresh air in a bubble I’ve kept myself wrapped in for too long. I can’t seem to get enough.

“But you’re an artist.”

She laughs as if my comment surprises her. “And what does that have to do with anything?”

I open my mouth before I realize I don’t really know why I said it, so I take a few seconds to understand my own logic. “To me, art and nature go hand in hand. I couldn’t have one without the other. Where do you get your inspiration?”

Brooklyn stares ahead for a few seconds, contemplating my question. “Art has always been something I’ve studied and appreciated, but I’ve never considered myself an artist.

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