I wiped sweat off my brow with my forearm. With the sun blazing directly overhead, the forest surrounding the hiking trail offered no shade. "I can't believe I let you talk me into this. On a Saturday, no less. I could be relaxing in Carrie's pool right now."

Clay woke me early with a bag from Donut Run. He got all of my favorites. Including the jelly-filled that he disliked. It took me too long to realize it was a bribe to get me here. First-Thing-In-The-Morning Me was kind of an idiot.

"Hiking is good for you." Clay said, hooking his thumbs in the straps of his backpack. He was wearing a tank top that showed off his muscular arms and shoulders and his clavicles. I had never considered clavicles particularly sexy, but Clay's were certainly doing things to me.

"Not when it's a hundred fucking degrees Fahrenheit outside."

Clay looked down at his watch and tapped the screen. "It's eighty-two. Not a hundred."

That didn't take into account the humidity, which was stifling this time of year. One of the many joys of summers in the South.

Clay glanced back over his shoulder with an adorable smirk that gave me so many ideas that did not adhere to the guidelines of friendship—unless there were also some benefits tacked on. It had been almost three weeks now since we met, and I was no less enamored.

"I hate you," I said.

Clay laughed. The bubbly, joyful sound almost always lifted my mood. Well, not today. "You'll be thanking me when you get that endorphin rush. It's an amazing high."

"If I wanted to get high, I'd smoke a bowl."

Clay stopped, waiting for me to catch up. "You mean weed?" He sounded curious, though he didn't seem judgmental about it.

"No. I mean Cap'n Crunch."

Clay cracked a smile. He held out his water bottle when I reached him. I swiped the bottle and flipped the lid, guzzling down the frigid relief.

Clay rubbed my back. "Slow down. You're gonna drink it all, and we're only halfway there."

"Ugh! Fuck my fucking life!" My voice echoed too loudly through the tranquil woods.

Clay made a strange face and started walking again.

I huffed, flipping the lid closed on the bottle. I trailed behind Clay, stomping my feet to show my disdain. I was being a petty bitch, but it didn't faze him at all. He just grinned at me, like he found my tantrums endearing.

"I've never tried anything like that before," Clay said.

It took me a moment to recall what we had been talking about as I'd gotten distracted by the dusting of freckles across his shoulders. "Um, weed or Cap'n Crunch? They pair well together, y'know."

"The Cap'n and I have a long, complicated history. I love his work with peanut butter, but it wrecks the roof of my mouth."

"The things we love often cause us pain."

"Don't I know it." Clay mumbled. I suspected I wasn't meant to hear that. Then, louder, he said, "I meant weed."

I smiled at him, even though he was facing the other way. "I know what you meant, Clay."

"I was always afraid I'd be one of those people that gets super paranoid and ends up crying in a corner."

"That's never happened to me. I just get mellow."

Clay stopped walking to wait for me again. "I'm not sure I even really want to try it."

"That's cool, too. No peer pressure here, my friend."

"I never understood peer pressure. Like, why does anyone care what other people do with their lives? If someone doesn't want to drink, or have sex, or try drugs, why does that bother some people?"

I suspected there was a story behind that outburst, but he didn't elaborate, and I didn't want to seem pushy, so I let it drop.

"I don't know," I said. "I have the same thoughts about homophobia."

Clay's face turned somber. He nodded. "I have those thoughts too."

"Really?" That intrigued me. "Why?"

"It's just something that's been on my mind since I met you. I hear little things around or from my friends. And, like, maybe they aren't being malicious about it, but then I think about how it would make you feel if you heard it, and it makes my blood boil."

"Trust me." I clapped Clay on the back. "I've heard it all. Nothing shocks me anymore."

"But it has to make you angry. Or maybe even afraid."

"Angry, yes. Afraid?" I bobbed my head from side to side, scrunching my face. "Well, that depends on the situation and what's actually being said. If it's just some douchebags at school running their mouth, calling something gay as an insult, then I just roll my eyes and keep going. But if I heard them say something like they want to gun down some queers, I'd turn around and get the hell out of there as fast as I could without drawing attention to my fabulous self." I threw in a sassy snap for emphasis.

Clay blanched at the Q-word. I wondered if he'd ever even heard the term queer used in a non-homophobic context.

"Have you actually heard someone say that?" he asked. "The gunning down thing."

"No. That was an extreme example. Although I wouldn't be surprised if it had been discussed—" I affected a thick hillbilly drawl to make my point "—in them thar hills over yonder."

Clay took a half step forward. "Would you be freaked out if I hugged you right now?"

I shook my head. "Uh. No."

Clay set his backpack down and slowly moved over to me. He seemed hesitant as he carefully wrapped his arms around me. Once I was in his arms, he squeezed me tight. "I'm sorry you have to deal with that kind of bullshit. You don't deserve that. Nobody does."

I raised my hands to Clay's lower back. I didn't care that it was sweaty. It was a nice hug. And there was nothing sexual about it. In this moment, Clay was just my friend, showing love and support.

Clay took a deep, shaky breath and pulled away. He picked up his pack, shouldering one strap. "Let's go." He gestured up the path and walked ahead.

I sighed and followed. "If I said forcing me to do this is homophobic, would you let me go back to the car?"

Clay laughed and turned to face me, walking backwards with annoying ease. "I promise, it'll be worth it."

"Fiiine."

I kept my complaining in my head for most of the trek, only occasionally letting a gripe slip out. It seemed to amuse Clay, and he gave me that boyish grin that was so cheerful and gentle.

"I can't believe this is how you want to spend your last weekend before school starts," I said.

I still had a week left of my summer vacation. Heron Prep always started back later than the public school. Although on the flip-side, our school year ended later.

"Unlike you, I enjoy physical activity," Clay said.

"I enjoy some physical activities." I chose to omit the more lurid activities that sprung to mind first, moving on to the family-friendly fare. "I love yoga and swimming. And I could walk ten miles for something interesting like a music festival."

"Have you been to one?"

"Yeah. Me and Carrie went to this great festival last summer when I was trying to get over Alfie. It was on a beach down in Florida. We even camped out."

"You went camping?" Clay looked back at me with widened eyes. He slowed his pace to let me catch up.

When I reached him, I gave him a shove that barely moved him. "Yes, judgy. I went camping."

"I don't mean to offend you, you just aren't really outdoorsy."

"Just because I don't enjoy walking until my feet bleed, and peeling off blisters the size quarters, doesn't mean I hate the outdoors."

"Fair enough." Clay studied me with a hint of a smile. "So, who did you see at the festival?"

"It was mostly indie people nobody's ever heard of. Definitely nobody that plays on country radio." I smirked at Clay.

Clay blew out an exasperated breath. "God, you're such an elitist."

"Am not?"

"In the entire time I've known you, I played exactly one—" he raised his index finger "—country song, and you won't let me forget it."

"I just don't get the appeal of that kind of music."

"Um, I'm sorry, but don't you love Taylor Swift?"

I gasped. "Don't you dare besmirch Taylor."

"I'd never do that. I actually like her. I'm just reminding you of her roots. And that country music can produce great artists. Not all of them sing about tractors, and pickups, and girls in bikinis. There's some actually decent stuff if you take the time to dig through the popular cowboy frat bro garbage."

"You have to dig pretty deep, though."

"What about Dolly Parton?" Clay asked. "You must like her. She's like the most amazing human being ever."

"Dolly's pretty great," I said. "Although, beyond her monster hits, I can't say I know any of her music."

"Well, without her we wouldn't have Whitney Houston's rendition of 'I Will Alway Love You,' which is one of the greatest love songs of all time."

I made a noise of disagreement. "That's not really a love song, though. She's talking about how she loves the guy, but she has to leave him, because it's what's best for both of them."

"It's still a killer song."

"Agreed."

"And—Oh my God!—what about 'Crazy' by Patsy Cline? That's such a good song."

I shook my head. "I don't think I've heard that."

"You so have. I think everyone's heard that song. It's in so many movies and shows."

"How does it go?"

I expected him to recite the lyrics. I did not think he'd actually sing it. But that's exactly what that beautiful son of a bitch did. With his sweet (though not entirely in tune) voice that gave me chills.

"Crazy. I'm crazy for feeling so lonely. I'm crazy. Crazy for feeling so blue."

He sang the entire song, looking into my eyes the whole time. And I swear to God my heart nearly exploded with joy. I loved his voice, even if it wasn't perfect.

"That was one of my dad's favorite songs." He had a bittersweet smile. That was something I'd noticed about him over the last few weeks. Sometimes, for just a moment, I could see this deep, wounded layer beneath all the smiles and laughs and jokes. I wanted to wrap him in my arms and hold him tight to make sure nothing bad ever happened to him again.

I raised my hands in surrender. "Okay. You made your point. Some country music is good."

Clay grinned wide, showing his perfect teeth, all traces of sadness gone. "And I successfully distracted you so you'd stop bitching." Clay raised his hand toward the end of the trail. "We're here."

"Beauty and brains." I clicked my tongue. "Who'd've thought it?"

When I glanced over, Clay's cheeks were pink. I wasn't sure they had been before, but maybe he was just getting overheated. That had to be it.

Clay wrapped his hand around mine and pulled me forward to a three-foot stone wall.

I was too distracted by him holding my hand to care about anything else. I didn't even look until Clay said, "Totally worth it, right?"

I lifted my eyes. We stood on the precipice of a cliff; the forest stretched out beneath us. I hadn't even realized we'd been climbing uphill this whole time. That explained the difficulty.

"Wow!"

Clay was right. It was amazing. There was no sign of civilization in sight. Trees stretched out for miles to the horizon. There was even a small lake in the distance that I recognized. I had been there before. It was easy to get to. It had a parking lot not even a hundred yards from the shore.

Clay looked at me, beaming with joy. He was so excited; he was practically vibrating. "What do you think?"

"Totally worth it," I said, still highly aware that Clay hadn't let go of my hand yet.

As soon as I had the thought, Clay pulled his hand free and removed his backpack, moving over to sit on the lonely bench. He took out a thermos, two Tupperware containers, and a large bag of Spicy Nacho Doritos—my favorite.

It was a picnic. Clay made us a picnic.

"And for dessert." Clay pulled out a bag of Sour Patch Kids—also one of my all-time favorites.

I stared at him, stunned.

Clay opened the containers and offered one to me. "I know it's not exactly a hoagie, but it's the best I could do. My mom forgot to buy the right kind of bread I asked for."

I furrowed my brow as I walked over and took the bowl holding a sandwich. The fact that he asked his mother to buy a specific bread to make these sandwiches seemed like more than just a friendly gesture. Although, I had no clue why the bread even mattered. "You lost me."

"Our list," Clay said. "After go-karts and Mexican. We've already done pizza and mini golf. A hoagie and a hike is all that was left."

I cracked a smile. I completely forgot about that.

Clay was too adorable for words. How was I supposed to not fall for a guy who did things like that for me? It seemed colossally unfair.