Hikes
The day is warm, the kind of pleasant warmth that makes you want to stay outside all day. The air smells fresh, crisp with the scent of pine trees and damp earth. Birds sing above them, and every now and then, the sound of distant footsteps from other hikers reaches Ingrid’s ears. The trail they’re following winds steadily uphill, though not too steeply, with trees lining both sides and patches of wildflowers scattered along the edges.
Mapi is her usual self -chatty and animated. She’s been talking almost nonstop since they left the car, rambling about anything and everything. She switches between Spanish and English without warning, her words tumbling out in an endless stream.
“And then I told Patri that if she ever tries to make tortilla like that again, I’m calling her mami,” Mapi laughs, shaking her head. “Seriously, Ingrid, it was a disaster. Eggs everywhere. Potatoes undercooked. Even Salma wouldn’t eat it.”
Ingrid smiles faintly, glancing over at Mapi. “That bad?”
“Worse,” Mapi says with a dramatic shudder. “I still don’t know how she managed to ruin it so badly.”
Ingrid chuckles under her breath, not offering much more. It’s not that she doesn’t want to talk -she’s just always been more of a listener. Thankfully, Mapi doesn’t seem to mind. She’s more than happy to fill the silence herself.
The path narrows slightly, forcing them to walk closer together. Their arms brush every so often, and each time, Ingrid’s stomach flutters uneasily.
It happens again -her elbow bumping against Mapi’s forearm. The warmth of her skin lingers longer than it should, and Ingrid swallows thickly. She tells herself it’s nothing -just the way they’re walking. But when it happens a fourth time, Ingrid’s fingers twitch at her side.
Without thinking too much about it -because if she did think about it, she’d probably talk herself out of it- Ingrid reaches out, her fingers brushing against Mapi’s hand. She hesitates for a second, giving herself an out.
But Mapi doesn’t pull away.
Heart racing, Ingrid slowly curls her fingers around Mapi’s, letting her thumb slide across the back of her hand. Her palm is warm, her fingers slightly calloused.
For a second, neither of them says anything. Ingrid’s heart pounds, heat rising steadily up her neck. She’s convinced she’s made a mistake -that she’s misread something- but then she feels Mapi’s fingers tighten slightly, her grip firm and steady.
Ingrid glances over, just in time to see Mapi duck her head slightly, her smile hidden behind a curtain of hair.
“You okay?” Mapi asks softly.
Ingrid flushes, suddenly feeling self-conscious. “Yeah,” she mumbles. “I just…yeah.”
Mapi’s thumb traces a small circle against the side of her hand, a simple motion that makes Ingrid’s heart flutter all over again.
“Good,” Mapi says with a grin, as if Ingrid’s nerves aren’t completely obvious. She swings their joined hands lightly as they walk, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “Anyway, then Patri decides that she’s going to blame the whole thing on me. Can you believe that?”
Ingrid laughs as Mapi’s words wash over her, a kind of background noise that fills the space where Ingrid’s overthinking would usually live. Her hand feels warm in Mapi’s, her fingers still curled comfortably around hers.
When they reach the top of the trail, the view opens up before them -a sweeping expanse of forest stretching out in all directions. The trees below are a sea of green, their leaves rustling softly in the breeze. The air smells fresh, earthy, and cool despite the warmth of the sun overhead. Ingrid pauses for a moment, catching her breath as she takes it all in.
“Worth it, huh?” Mapi says from beside her, slightly breathless herself.
“Yeah,” Ingrid agrees quietly, her gaze lingering on the horizon. It really was beautiful.
Mapi reluctantly lets go of Ingrid’s hand to shrug the backpack off her shoulders. She bends down, unhooking the rolled-up blanket from the bottom of it and giving it a firm shake before spreading it across a flat patch of grass. Once satisfied, she drops down onto the blanket with a sigh, tilting her head back and squinting up at Ingrid through the sunlight.
“C’mon,” Mapi says, patting the empty space beside her.
Ingrid doesn’t hesitate, lowering herself onto the blanket and pulling her sunglasses down from her head to shield her eyes. She watches as Mapi rummages through the backpack, pulling out their packed lunch.
“You want this one?” Mapi asks, holding up a sandwich wrapped in foil. “Or this one?” She holds up another.
“They’re… the same, aren’t they?” Ingrid asks, lips quirking slightly.
Mapi gasps in mock outrage. “No, princesa. One of these has cheese, and one of these has extra cheese. Very different.”
Ingrid huffs out a quiet laugh. “I’ll take the regular cheese, then.”
Mapi hands it over, and Ingrid accepts it with a murmured, “Thanks.” She’s not particularly hungry, but she hadn’t eaten since dinner the night before, and skipping another meal isn’t exactly smart. She unwraps the sandwich and takes a small bite, chewing slowly as her gaze drifts back toward the trees.
For a while, they eat quietly. The air is calm, and the faint rustling of leaves fills the silence between them. Ingrid finds herself relaxing despite herself, the warmth of the sun soaking into her skin.
Then, unexpectedly, she feels fingers gently brush against her temple.
Her heart skips a beat, and she turns her head just in time to feel Mapi’s fingers tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear. It’s such a soft, casual gesture -one that feels entirely too intimate- and yet Mapi’s expression is so calm, so easy, that Ingrid doesn’t know what to do.
“Your hair,” Mapi murmurs, as though that’s explanation enough. Her fingers linger for a second longer before dropping back to her lap.
Ingrid swallows hard, her face warming. “Thanks,” she says quietly, her voice tight.
Mapi’s eyes soften, and she smiles -a small, knowing smile that makes Ingrid feel even more flustered. She quickly looks away, pretending to be deeply invested in her sandwich as she takes another bite.
“You good?” Mapi asks, her voice gentle now.
“Yeah,” Ingrid says too quickly. “Fine.”
Mapi doesn’t push, but her smile doesn’t fade either. She takes a bite of her own sandwich, still watching Ingrid out of the corner of her eye.
“You know,” Mapi says, her voice light and teasing, “you don’t have to be embarrassed. You’re cute. Deal with it.”
Ingrid almost chokes on her sandwich. She coughs, grabbing her water bottle and taking a sip before glaring weakly at Mapi.
“That’s not -I wasn’t-“ Ingrid stammers, her face burning.
“Relax,” Mapi grins, bumping their shoulders together. “I’m just messing with you.”
Ingrid exhales a shaky breath, her fingers still gripping her water bottle. “You’re impossible,” she mutters.
“You love it,” Mapi quips, winking at her. Ingrid doesn’t grace her with a response.
Once Ingrid finishes the last piece of fruit, Mapi reaches for the empty containers and wrappers, tucking them neatly back into her backpack. She zips it up and tosses it aside, not far from the blanket. When she turns back, she gestures for Ingrid to move closer.
“C’mere,” Mapi says softly, patting the space beside her.
Ingrid hesitates. Not because she doesn’t want to move closer -she does- but because the closeness feels dangerous. It’s too easy to let her guard down around Mapi, too easy to forget what happened the last time she let someone get this close.
Still, she swallows her nerves and shifts over, moving until her thigh is just a few inches away from Mapi’s. It’s enough space to feel safe, yet still painfully close.
Apparently, it’s not close enough for Mapi. Without hesitation, Mapi drapes an arm around Ingrid’s back, her hand settling comfortably on her shoulder. She gives her a light squeeze, warm and grounding.
“There,” Mapi murmurs with a contented sigh as she leans back slightly, taking in the view.
For a moment, Ingrid just sits there, her body tense. But after a few steady breaths, she lets herself lean -just slightly- against Mapi’s side. The warmth radiating off her is impossible to ignore, comforting despite the heat of the sun.
“See?” Mapi says quietly. “Not so bad.”
Ingrid huffs softly, just barely smiling. “I never said it was bad.”
“You didn’t have to,” Mapi teases, nudging her side.
Ingrid shakes her head with a faint laugh, her gaze turning back to the trees below. The breeze is gentle, rustling through the leaves, and for a moment, everything feels calm. Safe.
But then Mapi’s fingers start moving -a slow, lazy trail along Ingrid’s upper arm. Her fingertips barely press against the fabric of Ingrid’s shirt, tracing delicate patterns that send a shiver down Ingrid’s spine. Goosebumps prick her skin despite the warmth of the afternoon.
“You cold?” Mapi asks, her voice low.
“No,” Ingrid says too quickly, her face heating. “I’m fine.”
Mapi hums softly, her fingers pausing for a beat before they start moving again, this time even slower.
“You sure?” Mapi murmurs, her voice teasing now.
“Yes,” Ingrid insists, but her voice isn’t as steady as she wants it to be.
“Hmm,” Mapi muses, dragging her fingers down to Ingrid’s elbow before lightly tracing back up to her shoulder. “Could’ve fooled me.”
Ingrid lets out a breathy laugh, shaking her head again. “You’re ridiculous.”
“You like it,” Mapi quips, grinning at her.
And, infuriatingly, Ingrid knows she’s right.