I had signed up for a Valentine's Day hike with a group from my college. At this point, I'd rather be screaming, and crying, and punching walls, but maybe a walk in the woods would do some good. She had broken up with me just that morning: no warning, an immediate replacement in the wings, citing some standard babble about age and maturity and what her friends would think. I was a freshman, an angry, sad freshman alone on Valentine's Day. So the hike it was.
The group gathered at the west gate, about ten people bundled in parkas and wool hats. It was warm and sunny for February in New England, but not that warm. I knew the senior guy who was leading the group, James. He offered me a smile as I shuffled up on the sidewalk. I tried to return it, but it was hard enough just being thereβsmiles and laughs were not in the cards. I didn't know anyone else. I think there were a couple other freshmen, but it was mostly sophomores and juniors. The last to arrive, number eleven, I scrambled into the van after everyone else and rolled the door shut behind. It was a big fifteen passenger, but only one seat was left because the back row had quickly been piled with coats and backpacks. I squeezed in next to an older girl, and reached for my seatbelt.
At this point I wasn't looking up or around much. Still disconsolate, my head felt too heavy to lift. So as I groped blindly for the buckle, I was surprised to hear "Sorry, let me get out of your way," as I brushed the back of a denim clad thigh. The voice was at once bright and smoky, eager and slow. A curling end of gold red hair tumbled into my line of vision. I jerked my head up. She was prettier than her voice had promised. Many more curls sprang from under her cap. Her face was delicate but strong. No makeup. Just wide, full lips, a few light freckles, a bit of white tooth lightly biting on the inside corner of her mouth, eyes wide and green blue and laughing at my surprise.
This was a pleasing development, but not enough to really lift me out of my funk. She arched herself away from me, giving me free access to the seatbelt buckle and a teasing glimpse of her tight, round butt. I buckled in, resumed my dejected posture, and the van was off. I could sense her looking at me occasionally, but I had no energy to be seriously interested. She was just another beautiful, older woman. She was probably only curious about what had me so glum. I stared away, out the window, as we pulled onto the highway and headed west, toward the mountains. Sure enough, she fell into conversation with the guy on her left, someone she new, dropping impossibly sophisticated references every few minutes. I felt younger and younger.
The cold, fresh air in the dirt parking lot revived my spirits a bit. As I stretched upwards and then bent down to retie my boots, I saw too that I was a good eight inches taller than her, and four inches taller than the baby-faced guy she'd been talking to. That made me feel good. I scratched my beard, gave it a little tug as if to say to myself, "Snap out of it! Enjoy this!" and then sauntered over to chat with James about the trail. We were doing an easy loop through the light snow that covered the leaves and rocks on the forest floor. A little elevation, but nothing serious. Six miles total.
We headed out in single file, everyone bundled up again. The girl lingered towards the back of the line and fell in right in front of me. Her coat had been on in the van but unzipped. Now it was zipped all the way up and joined by a thick scarf. But it was one of those coats that grab you snugly high on the waist. I could see her long legs, her whole butt. Those jeans were as tight as practical on a hike. Sexy without being ridiculous. The elastic band of her coat emphasized the slimness of her waist above the widening of her hips.
I guess I was staring, and just then she chose to turn around, smiling at me. My face went red, but it was already red from the cold, so it didn't matter. "My name's Rebecca," she said and held out a mitten to me.
"David," I said and returned the smile, shaking her mitten with my bare hand, much bigger than hers, roughened and a bit hairy.
"Won't your fingers fall off?" she asked. She smiled, widened her eyes, and shivered a bit as if to emphasize the cold. I could see past her scarf where the muscle on the side of her neck moved gracefully.
"No. I like being able to feel the rocks, the trees. Hiking with gloves doesn't feel right."
"Oh, interesting," Rebecca replied.
I felt like it
was
interesting. A mature quirk, hinting at depths of experience and sensitivity. I hadn't felt this good for ages.
We had walked about a mile in single file when the path started to widen. Rebecca fell back and walked next to me. The hiking was fairly steep, and we both had unzipped our jackets. I could see her silhouette beneath a form-fitting blue sweater. Her breasts were very large, round and high. The corner of her hip bone peeked out between the sweater and the waistband of her low-riding jeans. It was a bit angular, the skin over it smooth and milky.
"Are you my year, David, you seem familiar?"
"Uh, I don't think so," I mumbled, again feeling like I'd been caught staring at her.
"I'm a freshman."
"Huh, you don't really seem that young."
"Well, thank you," I said forcefully, meeting her eyes for perhaps the first time. She met them in return, and then swept her gaze down across my wild beard, my broad chest and shoulders, my long legs straining upwards against the rocks, then up again to the bare trees and the sky.
We got to talking about school and classes, then music, then food. We seemed to have a lot in common, but every minute my spirits fell a bit more. She spoke about everything with such eloquence, such precision. Her opinions were sharp and decisive. She had a broad field of knowledge at her command. Her blend of beauty, intelligence, and wit was intoxicating but also profoundly demoralizing. I was on a different plane. I knew nothing. I was taller than her, but that was it. There was no reason for her to be interested in me. I had nothing to offer. The morning's events came rushing back.
Perhaps sensing a change, she asked softly and teasingly, "What brings you to a Valentine's Day hike full of upperclassmen on the prowl?"
"Well, I didn't know..." I stuttered, "I mean, I wasn't expecting..."
She chuckled, "No, no. I didn't mean to put you on the spot. I'm sure your motives were as pure as mine."
I glanced over and saw her lips parted playfully, right hand gripping her thigh to help push her up onto a particularly high ledge.
"My girlfriend broke up with me this morning," I blurted out.
She turned, her hand sliding up from her thigh to rest on her hip.
"Well, that sucks. I'm sorry. I'm glad you decided to come."
Any other day, the tone of that comment would have nearly lit me on fire, but I was still moping, and it barely registered. We walked on in silence for a while. Soon we reached the highest point of the hike. We all stopped to rest, and it seemed like everyone but me got out a thermos of hot cocoa from their backpack. I had been much too scattered and distraught to make such preparations. Rebecca walked towards the boulder where I was sitting, swinging her thermos from the finger of one hand while fishing a flask of peppermint schnapps out of her jacket pocket with the other. She plopped down next to me, right up against me, actually. I could feel her from the side of her butt down to her thigh, and even the bulge of her calf muscle through the jeans. It was deliberate; she felt so solid and tight against me. My head cleared immediately.
"Open this," she said, resting the bottom of her thermos again my thigh. I took it from her and did as she asked. She broke the seal on the schnapps.
"Do you like it strong?"
"Oh, you really don't have to share," I protested.
"With my Valentine's Day date? Of course I do." She said this without a hint of pity or patronage. She said it with more than a hint of sultriness. I was bright-eyed now. This girl was hotter and smarter and nicer than my ex. Maybe she should have been out of my league, but here she was, clearly coming onto me. I felt a rush of confidence. I was strong, handsome, smart, single. She had the hots for me.