One

I love to hike. My earliest memories are consumed with visions of crystal blue lakes and towering pines, snow-capped mountains and flower-lined dirt trails. My dad took me hiking every chance he got, and now I do it every chance I get, which is hard when I'm in college and working a part-time at a book store. But somehow, out here, everything I'm worried about melts away like ice cream in summer heat. I forget how I absolutely have no idea what I want to do with my life, how I don't even want to be in college, how I feel alone even when I'm surrounded by people.

I feel guilty even thinking about complaining. I live a good life. My grades gave me a full scholarship to a decent university. I have a generous handful of friends, despite how little I can relate to most of them. I'm good at most of everything I try. So I feel guilty when I don't feel happy because why wouldn't I be? It could be worse. It could always be worse. But couldn't it get a little better too? Maybe it would soon, it's always nice to have that hope.

But like I said, standing here before a pool of blue that shimmers under the August sun, I can feel my worries diminishing just for this moment. I am one with the earth, a peaceful, serene being with no care in the world. Inhaling, I close my eyes and stretch my arms above my head. And then a stick cracking behind me snaps me back into reality. I turn my head and see a boy standing behind me.

"I like what you're doing. With your arms. You look peaceful," he half-smiled and pushed back his brunette curls that framed his perfect bone structure.

"I was peaceful," I joked, "then you stepped on that stick."

"My apologies," he said way too dramatically.

I was instantly attracted to his presence; his aura illuminated and warmed the space as a campfire did in a cold obsidian darkness. I thought to myself that his smile and his brown eyes made not only my worries melt but my whole body.

"I'm Kate," I said, sticking out my hand to shake.

"I like that you shake hands," he said as he stepped toward me and took my hand into his. His hand was warm and soft in mine.

"I like that you like that I shake," I smirked. "You forgot the part where you tell me your name."

He chuckles, "Josh. I'm Josh."

"And it's a pleasure to meet you Josh, and to be here surrounded by the beauty of the earth with you. You live around here?" I hoped he wasn't a tourist from Indiana, or somewhere far and alien like that. Seems to always be the case when I meet boys.

"No, we just moved here, not too far." He pointed to a winding road through the trees that lead up a mountain. "Up there somewhere."

"You're kidding." I put my hand on my hip and raised an eyebrow.

"No?"

"I live up there," I said, pointing to the same spot. "Looks like you're my new neighbor slash hiking buddy."

"Yeah, looks like it, and I accept with pleasure." He kept doing this half-smile that I let give me butterflies.

He stepped beside me and looked out to the lake I'd been lost in moments before. I stood next to him, and a comfortable silence took over while we just watched the world perform for us. I closed my eyes again, and when I opened I caught him staring.

"Take a picture, it'll last longer." I was already comfortable joking with him for whatever reason. It usually takes me a bit to warm up to someone enough for that.

"Trust me, I would. The way you're so captivated is captivating me. But I don't have a camera."

"You don't have a camera phone?" I questioned.

"I don't have a phone," he said.

"You don't have a phone," I repeated. "So how am I supposed to plan adventures with you?"

"We have a landline. We aren't cavemen, Kate. So you can call that, or you can just come over. We both live up there somewhere after all. And I'm usually home."

"You're right," I agreed. "I like that you don't have a phone. I'd feel totally disconnected without one, like an alien or something. I hate feeling like I need it." And that was true. I hated phones, and I hated social media. I'm not one to give into peer pressure or follow the crowd, but if you don't have an Instagram or Snapchat, you're pretty much a complete outcast with people my age and totally out of the loop. That's why I'd always wished I grew up the same time as my dad did. We'd have been a kick-ass pair of best friends.

"It's an epidemic," he joked, zipping up his jacket and placing his hands in his pockets. "I have to get home, but I look forward to our adventures." And so I watched him leave until the shape of him became lost in the pines.