Waiting for Everest ✓

Part V

The scorching Arizona sun burned hot on my back and the rough rock beneath my hands burned like embers. I could feel the strap of my harness digging into the skin of my right thigh, but I didn't let it bother me too much. I was fifty feet in the air above solid rock. It wasn't the best time to stop and complain about a little chaffing.

Down below, on the ground, Lindsey had a death grip on the belay rope, which was meant to catch me if I slipped.

But I wasn't going to slip.

There was something in the air today, something alive. I could feel the rock beneath my hands, solid and unmoving, and I could feel the muscles in my arms contracting and releasing as I moved. I felt strong, like I could move mountains. Or, you know, another rock climbing pun.

"Looking good, Camille!" Matt's voice carried from the ground.

"Feeling good, Matty!" I called back down, laughing loudly when he groaned at the nickname.

He'd be fine in San Mateo without me. I knew that. Besides, Lindsey was going to be a sophomore at a college in Colorado next year. If Matt needed a climbing partner, he'd be able to call her.

I grunted as I pulled myself up another couple of feet.

"Gross," Tucker's voice piped up from just above my head. I tilted my chin up, squinting in the sun. He stood on top of the wall of rock, his hands on his knees as he grinned down at me. "You're all sweaty."

"Just pull me up," I huffed.

But I smiled when I said it.

Tucker's hand shot out and I made a grab for it. He yanked me up onto the top of the canyon wall, our sweaty palms mushed together. Tucker, for the germaphobe that he was, didn't even wince.

I planted my feet on the ground and set my hands on my hips, my chest heaving as I tried to catch my breath. My tank top was drenched with sweat and I was pretty sure I'd be sporting a nasty sunburn on my shoulders the next morning, but The Grand Canyon was sprawled out before us, red and orange as far as the eye could see.

I grinned.

"You know," Tucker said, tapping his elbow against mine, "You're always happiest when you're on a rock."

I shrugged.

What was there to say? I loved climbing. I'd love it before I'd known Matt Everest, before I'd known Tucker and Lindsey O'Hara. The map of the Himalayas that was pinned to my bedroom wall had been there since I was five years old.

"You were right about the list," I told Tucker, tipping my head back and smiling into the sun. "One too many bullet points."

---

Ta-da! 

There it is. For anyone who absolutely hates how open-ended this is, rest assured that I'm a hopeless romantic, and Tucker and Camille have four really, REALLY enjoyable (wink, wink, nudge, nudge) years at NYU. Because I'm actually incapable of anything but happy endings (although I also sort of struggle with endings of any kind but that's another debate entirely). Thank you for all of you who read this! I will be reading every single comment, so if you caught an error or have a future-Camucker (apparently that's their ship name, according to one really enthusiastic reader) question, please don't hesitate! I love you all. Thank you for your never-ending support. And bountiful puns. 

Your friendly author, Kate