Page 26 of The Love Bus

ADRENALINE JUNKY

I was in my gran’s old kitchen, the air thick with the scent of simmering butter and fresh herbs.

She was beside me, her hands strong and sure as she guided mine over the dough, murmuring little corrections in that patient way she always had.

“A little more flour, sweetheart, just until it feels right.”

God, it had been so long since I’d felt this warm, this steady?—

“Wakey, wakey, everyone. We’re coming up on Glenwood Canyon.”

Tay’s voice crackled over the speaker, dragging me out of my savory dream and back onto the bus. I blinked groggily—blue and yellow seats, the rumble of the road—and something warm beneath my cheek.

Then that something exhaled.

I jerked upright, heart skipping. Noah .

His eyes crinkled as he looked down at me. “Comfortable?”

“Did I—?” I swiped my hand across my mouth. Dry, thank God. “Did I snore?”

He drew it out. “Only a little.”

I groaned. “You’re lying.”

“And you definitely weren’t talking in your sleep about butter.”

My stomach dropped. “I hate you.”

He just smirked. Teasing, easy. Familiar.

And something about it made my pulse stumble.

Not friendship. Not exactly.

I turned toward the window, but instead of the view I’d grown accustomed to over these last two days, I was greeted with an enormous, looming wall of golden-red rock, just a few feet beyond the edge of the road.

There was hardly any green at all that I could see, aside from the occasional scraggly bush or tree that turned into little more than a blur as we sped along the winding road.

“We’re officially driving through one of the most scenic stretches of interstate highway in the country—Glenwood Canyon.

” Tay would keep us all informed. “It was completed in 1992 after twelve years of construction, and even by today’s standards, we can all appreciate this incredible feat of engineering. ”

A few people murmured their agreement, phones already out and recording or else snapping pictures.

Personally, I wondered what the big deal was, but then I saw that most of the passengers were doing their best to pile onto the other side of the bus.

I tried to peer around Noah unobtrusively, but I still couldn’t see much.

“The highway itself is built into the canyon,” Tay continued. “The eastbound and westbound lanes are stacked on top of each other in certain places, instead of side by side, to fit the terrain and reduce the impact on the river.”

Seriously, I couldn’t see anything.

“Plus,” Tay added, “they used helicopters to put some of the bridges and retaining walls in place. That’s how inaccessible some of this canyon is.”

“If you stand up, you can see the river,” Noah said quietly beside me, his hand pulling gently on my arm. “It should be full—spring runoff. Trust me, it’ll be worth it.”

I braced myself against the seatback as I stood, the movement making me wobble just enough that my other hand had to grab onto something as well, and that something wound up being Noah’s shoulder.

It was a very nice shoulder. Noah had some solid muscle on him, that was for sure. I squeezed a little, reflexively, to stabilize myself as the bus went over a small bump. No other reason.

Anyway, he didn’t seem to mind.

Which…why should he? We were friends . Friends touched each other sometimes. Nothing wrong with one friend helping another.

Still, I couldn’t entirely ignore the soft fizz of warmth bubbling under my skin, even as I shifted my focus to the view outside.

And wow .

The river wasn’t just full, it was raging, a silver-white surge that crashed and churned through ancient, worn stones like it had someplace urgent to be. It looked…alive. Beautiful. Equal parts inviting and dangerous.

“Is that a raft?” A tiny speck of red bobbed wildly in the rapids.

As we came up behind it, however, I realized it was actually too small to be a proper raft.

It was a kayak, with just a single person perched inside, paddling frantically through foamy waves and around massive boulders and fallen logs.

Noah, who, even sitting, wasn’t much shorter than I was while standing, nodded. “Hey, look at him go,” he said, lifting his chin in appreciation.

I blinked. “Does he have a death wish?”

His lips quirked into a half-smile. “Looks fun, doesn’t it?”

I stared at him. Fun? One wrong move, and the guy was toast.

But I didn’t say that.

Because the truth was, five years ago, I might have, maybe, kind of , agreed with him. Okay, not about the kayaking—I’d never been that fearless—but I would have once loved the idea of rafting down a river. Not the terrifying, flip-your-boat-and-break-your-neck kind of river, but the tamer stuff.

I mean, I learned how to surf when I was nine.

Before Ashley, even. It was just for fun, I was never good enough to compete or anything like that, but I remembered enjoying the thrill of it back then, the speed, riding at the mercy of something so much more powerful than me, secure in the knowledge that I was capable enough to stay on my own two feet.

Even when I wiped out, I knew how to recover. I always got back up.

When had I stopped wanting that?

The realization landed, cold and bracing: I hadn’t been on a board in years. Not since…before Leo.

Leo didn’t surf. Leo didn’t even like the ocean. And somehow, somewhere along the way, I’d just stopped chasing waves.

I sank back into my seat, rubbing my hands on my skirt as if I could scrub away the sticky realization.

“You okay?” Noah asked, his voice softer now.

“Yeah.” I exhaled, shaking off the unease. “Would you really do something like that?”

He was still staring out toward the river, seemingly mesmerized by the movement of the water. The lone kayaker was gone now, left behind as the bus sped around a sharp bend in the canyon. “Definitely. The rush…it’s a good way to let off steam.”

“That makes it sound like you have done it before.”

Noah finally turned to face me fully, a slow smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I’ve kayaked.”

“Kayaked like that?” I nodded toward the river, even more violently tumultuous than the previous section. At this point, it was basically all whitewater and huge, pointy rocks.

“Yeah,” he said casually, as if that was even a remotely normal and reasonable thing to say. Apparently reading my highly dubious expression, which I made no effort to conceal, he added, “It’s not as scary as it looks, not if you know what you’re doing.”

I scoffed and nudged his arm playfully. “I’ll take your word for it, Mr. Adrenaline Junky. And what else do you do for fun? What else gives you that rush?”

His brows furrowed, as though he had to think hard about my question. “I like most outdoor activities, I guess. My favorite is probably surfing, then SCUBA. Sailing. And I like to skydive.”

My mouth fell open. “Wait, you skydive? As in…willingly?”

“That’s how hobbies work, Luna.”

“I know how hobbies work, Noah .”

He lifted one shoulder in an easy shrug, like he hadn’t just admitted to throwing himself out of a perfectly good airplane on purpose. It was fun to see him like this. Humble about something most guys liked to brag about.

“It’s…cathartic,” he said, moving past my snark easily. “You don’t have time to think about anything else when you’re free-falling at one hundred twenty miles per hour. It’s just you and the sky.”

He made it sound poetic, but all I could think of was the splat at the end if anything went wrong.

But, well, a lot of hobbies and sports came with some amount of risk, didn’t they?

“I surf,” I said. Surf camp was the one thing I appreciated about my mom organizing some of our summer vacations. Because she didn’t want me to spend all my time in the kitchen. “Or I used to, I guess.”

Noah studied me for a beat. “Why did you stop?”

The truth sat heavy in my chest, but I shrugged. “Too busy, I guess.”

His gaze didn’t waver. “Too busy to have fun?”

I could feel my throat tightening, and, yeah, I didn’t want to talk about my own lack of hobbies anymore. Besides, his life seemed so much more interesting than mine. “Skydiving, though. Wow. I mean, I would’ve thought an ER doctor wouldn’t take risks like that.”

His expression flickered. “Why?”

I gestured vaguely. “I mean, you must have seen things. People getting hurt in freak accidents. I figured you’d be more cautious.”

Something in his posture changed. His jaw ticced slightly, his fingers flexing against his thigh.

“If there’s no risk, it’s just existing,” he said, voice low. I felt it land somewhere deep in my chest.

The bus took a gentle curve, hugging the canyon wall, the light shifting around us.

Before I could press further, Tay’s voice crackled over the intercom, breaking the moment.

“We’re coming out of the canyon now, folks,” she announced.

“And for many of you, it’s spa time! If you don’t remember what time your appointment is, check with me.

Some of you might want to grab dinner first, others might want to spend time in the vapor caves before heading to your massage.

Afterward, we’ll all check in at the hotel. ”

A murmur of excitement rolled through the bus as people began shifting in their seats, reaching for their bags.

Noah leaned his head back against the seat, closing his eyes for a moment, and I was left staring at him, still turning his words over in my mind.

If there’s no risk, it’s just existing.

Was that what I’d been doing? Existing?