Amie Glazier
I plop my butt on a log with a huff and rub my aching foot through the shoe. I gaze up through the dense, evergreen canopy to the wisps of blue sky beyond. This is by far the worst idea I’ve ever had.
I started planning this hiking excursion thirty-six seconds after Mark dared to call me unadventurous and dumped me last week. But after a mile on this trail, the bolstering retort died on my tongue and was replaced by festering blisters in my new shoes. Maybe I shouldn’t have scoffed when the salesman told me to wear them in first.
People pass me in waves as I sit, sulk, and contemplate how much further I have to go. I fake smiles and sneak glances at their shoes. Every single boot is dusty with remnants of caked mud flaking off. I look at mine in gleaming blue-green and tuck them under the log, wincing at the pain lancing through my arch.
The mouthpiece of my hydration pouch fumbles its way between my teeth as I clench my jaw around it. I struggle to find the balance between biting and sucking when a family with young kids bounds past me on the narrow trail.
The parents—decked out in the ugliest khaki cargo shorts and bucket hats—nod at me with saccharine smiles. “Beautiful day, isn’t it? Have a good one!”
“Mmmmm.” I nod back, mouth attempting a smile while my jaw clamps down on the silicone, desperate for water. Mark was right, I realize, and a pit sinks into my stomach.
“You know,” a voice calls from behind, “it’s rare to see a foul grimace like that on a beautiful summer day here in Washington.”
Hydration straw still squeezed between my teeth, I whip around to find a man in the same ugly khaki shorts and worn, dusty boots, but the shade under his baseball cap does nothing to hide his bright smile, and his long-sleeve shirt wraps him tight as a present. I pull out the mouthpiece before I start salivating all over it.
“Excuse me?”
“Is it your first time on this trail?” His eyes trace down my lululemon crop top, black yoga pants, and pristine hiking boots.
“What makes you say that?” My heart rate accelerates as I wonder if I missed a tag somewhere.
“I’ve been hiking behind you since the trailhead, and you’re walking like you have rocks in your pack. Let me guess. Your trainer said you were in excellent shape, so you decided to up your game? I hope she didn’t also tell you that banging sticks together will fend off mountain lions dressed like that.”
Indignation sparks as my mind wraps around his reference. “Are you claiming that I look like Meredith Blake, the evil step-mom-to-be, in the hiking scene from the Parent Trap?”
“If the shoe fits.” He glances at my feet with a smirk.
My nostrils seethe. “Well, it’s clear that we both know it doesn’t. So, if you’ll excuse me.”
I move to stand, bracing myself against the pain in my feet and wince.
“Okay, okay. I’m sorry.” He reaches a hand toward me, and the sun frames his head like a halo. “I’m Tanner.”
I take it and pull myself upright too harshly, unbalancing us both. He catches us with ease. His hand envelops mine like the sun chasing away shadows on a warm summer day, and I stare into the abyss of his blue eyes.
I clear my throat and wipe my palms down my leggings. “I’m Bri,” I say with a nod.
“Bri.” He says my name with such reverence, like the piercing blue of a cloudless sky. “It’s nice to meet you. Where are you from?” He gestures toward the trail where it curves to the left behind a tree, asking me to walk with him.
I have two options: admit my ex was right and leave now, or swallow my wounded pride from this beautiful stranger and finish what I started.
My teeth clench against the ache in my feet as I fall into step beside him. “I’m from Seattle.”
A smile sparks against the corner of his scruffy lip. “What brings you to Olympic National Park?”
“A fresh start.” My eyes catch on my boots as I awkwardly navigate roots and rocks. “But it’s not going well.”
His gaze fixes ahead. “What felicity. Seeking fresh life and vigor. Bidding adieu to disappointment and spleen. What are men to rocks and mountains?”
I gape as I turn to the ruggedly handsome man in ugly khaki shorts. “Did you just quote Pride and Prejudice?”
He shrugs. “I like to read.”
Something like delight and curiosity flares to life in my chest. Bright. Warm. And irresistible.
We walk for what seems like an eternity to my feet—even though Tanner assures me it’s only a mile—and talk about our lives. Despite the obvious fact that he loves the outdoors, we are pretty similar. We both work at tech firms in Seattle and grew up in the city. We both love Thai food and cheer for the Seahawks. He didn’t elaborate much, but apparently, he’s also here today needing a fresh start.
“This is my favorite part,” he says as he takes a small trail to the right.
It opens up quickly into a large clearing with an enormous, overturned tree. Gnarled roots fan out like a sunburst resting on a cushion of ferns under the towering evergreens.
“This cedar reminds me that no matter how life topples you, there’s always new growth in the destruction.” Tanner’s smile takes on an ethereal glow in the dappled light as he turns to me. “Are you hungry?” he asks.
My eyes gaze the length of the alluring man before me, quickly forgetting my feet. “I’m starving.”
He extends his hand in a silent offering, and I take it, feeling light and buoyant and fresh.
When she’s not writing about swoon-worthy moments or magical heroines, you can find Amie binge-reading by the fire, excelling at carpool karaoke, and actually enjoying chemistry while home-brewing beer with her husband.
Connect with Amie at her website or on Instagram and Goodreads.
Spark Flash Fiction 