![]() Instead of taking the time to appreciate the untainted serenity of nature, however, for some reason I decided to broach the one topic that Noah hated discussing: Once seated, I squinted upwards at the looming evergreen, catching glimpses of the sky through its tangled mesh of needles and branches. I conceded and plopped onto a nearby patch of flattened grass. ![]() Noah stuck his tongue out in response, after which he went back to admiring the scenery. There he triumphantly sat, feet swinging and eyes honed on what must’ve been an impressive view of the park. Eventually, after clearing a rather precarious gap, he latched onto the side of a particularly large boulder and clambered up to its peak. I had no choice but to continue supervising this 18-year-old toddler as he hopped from surface to surface. “God I wish that were me.” Noah teased from the presumed safety of his perch. I shook my head and squeezed the plastic bottle, shooting a refreshing jet of lukewarm water directly into my mouth. He strolled up to one of the moss-covered slabs, and then-for reasons best known to himself-determined that it was his duty to climb it. I slowed my pace in order to retrieve the water bottle from the cluttered bowels of my backpack, which Noah interpreted as his cue to run ahead of me once more. The path tapered as we reached an impressive arrangement of boulders and rocks likely the result of a landslide. Think pops forgot his leaf blower last time we were there, though, if that helps.” Noah answered with that trademark shit-eating grin of his, face glistening with perspiration. Or, at least, a working fan.” I complained while wiping streams of sweat from my forehead. “Please tell me there’s air conditioning up there. It made an otherwise easy trek feel as if we were embarking on a goddamn expedition. The woods provided cover from the sun’s immediate glare, but there was no escaping the heat itself. Mainly, I was just glad that we could stop hooking up in my dad’s car certain stains were getting hard to explain away. Noah’s parents apparently owned a cabin there that they rarely used-the perfect weekend gateway for a pair of horny teenagers desperate for some privacy. The plan was to make our way up to some landmark called “Wilhelm Bridge”. We were fresh out of high school and were now blissfully enjoying the remainder of our summer. I rolled my eyes with an amused sigh and jogged up to him, then tossed him his backpack which he almost fell over trying to catch. The poor guy was built like a flagpole, but hell if I wasn’t into it at the time. His disheveled mop of bleached curls and oversized t-shirt swayed in the warm, dry breeze. He was standing among the wildflowers and tall grass, looking back with an expectant grin as if to say “Keep up, nerd.”. ![]() I retrieved our backpacks from the seat behind me and stepped outside as well. He practically ejected himself from the car the moment we were no longer in motion. ![]() It was around lunchtime when Noah and I arrived at the base of the hiking trail. ![]()
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