Sweet Dandelion

“Shut up,” I plead, hating the feel of so many eyes on me.

He chuckles, brushing his hair away from his forehead since it stubbornly falls in his eyes.

“Just trying to make you laugh, Meadows.”

“Do I look like I’m laughing?” I point to my stoic face.

His smile falls. “Uh … no. Sorry.”

“I don’t like people looking at me.”

His brows furrow in confusion. “Why?”

Because I’m afraid they’ll see the pain. The hurt. The sadness. The fact that I’m broken.

“I don’t like it. Shy, I guess.”

He snorts, wiping his hands on a napkin. “You’re not shy, Meadows.”

He’s right, I’m not, but it seemed like an easier explanation.

We finish our breakfast and order a pie to share.

“I’m going to the bathroom. I’ll be right back.”

He slides out of the booth and I send Sasha a text, making sure she’s going to be at the trail on time. She sends me a selfie of her in gym clothes outside of her car.

Sasha: Leaving my house now! See you losers soon!

The waitress leaves the piece of pie on the table with two forks. “Here you go, sweetie. Enjoy.”

Ansel comes around the corner from the bathroom, rubbing his hands together when he spots the pie. “Prepare to have your mind blown. If you thought the hot cakes were good, you haven’t seen anything yet.” He slides into the booth in his spot across from me. Picking up his fork, he holds it out. “Cheers, Meadows.”

I clink my fork against his and dig in.

“Oh.” I cover my mouth as I chew. “This is great.”

Ansel chuckles. “I’m glad you like this. I’m a total foodie and Salt Lake has some great fucking cafés and restaurants.”

“It definitely does. I guess that’s a bonus of living in the city, there are a ton of unique eatery places.”

“This isn’t even the tip of the iceberg.”

We finish every bite of the pie, and despite my protests Ansel pays the whole bill. He doesn’t say it, but I’m pretty sure he’s paranoid my brother is going to pop out from behind a booth or potted plant and yell at him if he doesn’t.

We drive to the hiking trail, finding Sasha already waiting. She leans against her white hatchback in a black sports bra and black leggings. Her curly hair is braided down each side and a pair of small black sunglass sit on the end of her nose.

“Took you guys long enough,” she remarks as we hop out.

“How long is this trail?” I ask, squinting from the sun. I raise my hand to shield my eyes.

“Two miles to the waterfall,” Ansel replies, coming around the front of his car with a backpack strapped to his back.

“And another three from there to the reservoir, but I don’t think we’ll do that. Four miles total is enough for today.” Sasha grabs the backpack at her feet and straps it on.

I suddenly feel unprepared now that I realize I’m the only one that doesn’t have one.

“I packed sandwiches and water for when we get to the waterfall.”