"Guys, wait up!" Pablo managed to shout between ragged breaths, bracing himself against a boulder that jutted into the trail. Sweat trickled down his face, but it was the tightness in his chest that really had his attention. "It’s not a race!"

  "Life’s a race, Pabs!" Sasha called back from well up the path, her silhouette briefly catching the sun as she darted around the bend, her deep brown skin radiant in the light. Her orange tank top clung to her shoulders, the hem just grazing the waist of black leggings that hugged her powerful legs. A flannel shirt was tied at her waist, and her high-twist braids bounced with every stride, radiating fearless joy.

  "And Sasha is going down this time!" Warren added with a grin loud in his voice.

  Warren’s broad frame veered off the main trail, and he crashed confidently through the brush to cut the next switchback. He wore a charcoal tank top, stuck to his back with sweat, loose cargo shorts, and a backward red ball cap to contain his unruly neck length blonde hair. As usual, Warran moved like someone who always expected the world to make room for him, because usually, it did.

  "Oh no you don’t!" Sasha laughed and broke into a full sprint. "See you at the top, Pabs!"

  They disappeared around the bend, their shouts and laughter echoing off the mountainside.

  Pablo gritted his teeth and tried to breathe deeply, but the wheeze in his throat made that nearly impossible. The first few miles had been fine, but now, halfway up the mountain, he was painfully aware that he was more comfortable behind a screen than climbing summits. It felt like his lungs were being crushed in a vice.

  "I don’t know why I agreed to this," he muttered, tugging at the straps of his too-heavy backpack. Who knew a two-night camping trip would require so much gear?

  "I can think of a reason or two," Zoe teased from behind, her sing-song voice making his cheeks flush.

  Focused so entirely on his breathing, he hadn’t noticed that the rest of their group—Zoe, Mark, and Eden—had caught up. They'd lagged behind earlier when Mark stopped to photograph an eagle in its nest. The camera was slung with a telephoto lens the length of a beer bottle was slung around Mark’s neck, ready for more action.

  Zoe tugged at the straps on her pack with casual ease. Tall and toned, with a blonde ponytail pulled through the back of her cap, she wore a light grey t-shirt, yellow athletic shorts and well-worn sneakers. Today, her clothing covered the majority of her tattoos, except for the golden gryphon on her right forearm, its wings spread from wrist to elbow in flight. Mirrored sunglasses were perched atop her cap, creating her trademark don't-fuck-with-me air. Her hazel eyes sparkled with amusement as she took in Pablo’s state.

  "You alright there, amigo?" Mark asked, his freckled face twisted into a look of concern.

  Mark brought up the rear, lanky and ginger-haired, with a spatter of freckles across his arms and nose. Despite his complexion, his clothes looked like someone who lived for the outdoors, and probably would if he didn't have to hold a shitty job in the garden section of a big box hardware store. His sun-faded green flannel was rolled to the elbows, and his hiking boots bore the scuffs and stains of countless trails. Even his khaki cargo pants looked soft from wear. Everything about his gear was broken-in and well-loved, like he'd stepped straight out of a national parks brochure.

  "Yup. Fine. Just need a minute." Pablo waved him off. "You guys keep going."

  "I can hear you wheezing from here," Eden said, frowning. "Where’s your inhaler?"

  Walking between Zoe and Mark, Eden was smaller and more compact, with dark, almost black hair tied back into a simple braid and pale skin that freckled on a cloudy day. She wore a slate-blue sun hoodie and olive hiking pants, her practical gear accented by a carabiner holding a handful of color-coded mini containers clipped to her belt. Her cool blue eyes fixed on Pablo with quiet concern as she kept pace.

  "Don’t need it." He hadn’t carried one in years. Pretty sure the one back home was expired. His abuela would murder him if she knew.

  "Do you need to head back?" Mark asked.

  "No!" Pablo snapped, sharper than intended. He glared at Mark, whose absurd cardio and zero body fat felt like personal insults. Even now, the guy looked barely winded.

  "Whatever you say." Mark raised his hands in surrender.

  "Come on, Mark," Zoe said, nudging past Pablo on the narrow trail, her ponytail bouncing. "Let him have his pity party."

  Mark followed her, the two of them disappearing around the bend. Pablo could still faintly hear Warren and Sasha up ahead, but their voices were lower now. Almost inaudible.

  Eden leaned against the same boulder as Pablo. Without saying a word, she unslung her backpack, pulled out a water bottle and took a long drink. She didn’t push him or try to fill the silence with encouragements like she might have for one of the others. Eden knew him too well for any of that, but she also wouldn’t abandon him.

  The three guys, Mark, Warren, and Pablo had been inseparable since kindergarten. By middle school, they were calling themselves The Fellowship, at least amongst themselves. Late nights gaming, summer bike rides, secret snack hoards, it was the kind of friendship that had survived puberty, long-distance college years, and even Mark’s sudden obsession with landscape and wildlife photography.

  Eden had joined the Fellowship in eighth grade, catching them mid-D&D campaign in the school library. She’d slotted right into their dynamic, like a Lego piece none of them had realized was missing. Quiet, empathetic, and razor smart, Eden had always been the kind of friend who made space for others without trying. She was the one who remembered your birthday and who actually brought snacks to every movie night.

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  Somehow, despite the chaos of growing up, the core group had stuck together. Road trips, online games, shared playlists, and inside jokes nearly old enough to vote kept them tethered. For those crucial and formative days of their lives, the Fellowship had just been the four of them against the world.

  In the last year, after they’d all returned from college Zoe had integrated into the group too. For most of their lives, she was just Warren’s older sister; the pretty, effortlessly popular one who moved on her own course at the periphery of their hangouts. Things had shifted after they all drifted back home. Her own friends had been cast to the winds, and hanging with her little brother's old crew turned into the only game in town.

  Then there was Sasha.

  Zoe had met her at the gym when she had watched, Sasha dress-down a meathead for mansplaining to her about her workout after staring at her for 20 minutes. Zoe and Sasha had bonded between deadlifts and over their disdain for creeps. But as it turned out, Sasha was also a semi-closeted nerd, fluent in lightsaber techniques and obscure Star Trek trivia. She even knew how to calculate THAC0. A unicorn.

  Pablo had fallen for Sasha immediately and hard. Unfortunately, so had Warren. For months now, Pablo had been locked in a cold war with one of his best friends. And if his suspicions were right, Warren planned to make his move on this trip.

  That was the only reason Pablo was here, struggling for breath in the middle of nowhere. He wasn’t going to let Warren win without a fight.

  I’ll die before I get airlifted off this damn mountain, Pablo thought grimly.

  "Don’t worry about them. Just do your best," she said, offering him the bottle. "There’s not that much farther. Supposed to level out soon."

  "You think so?"

  "That’s what Mark said." She smiled, eyes kind.

  Pablo took the bottle and drank. The water was cold and clean, and it felt like a balm sliding down his throat. The worst of the wheeze began to fade.

  While he rested, Eden adjusted her braid and looked out over the mountains. They didn’t talk for a while. She just let him breathe.

  Eventually, he handed the bottle back. "Thanks. That helped."

  "Anytime." Her grin was warm, though her eyes still flicked toward his chest with worry.

  "How're you doing? Really."

  He stood up, chest still tight but bearable. "Much better. Let’s get moving."

  "Give me a sec. I want to grab something from my pack."

  "Sure." Pablo glanced up the trail. No more voices. No laughter. Just wind. His foot tapped with impatience, but Mark had drilled it into them; no one hikes alone.

  As Eden rummaged through her pack, Pablo shifted uneasily. A strange smell wafted past, like damp moss and burnt plastic. He wrinkled his nose, glancing around. There was no smoke, no trash, just trees and dirt and shadows. Probably nothing.

  Still, he couldn't shake the feeling that something had passed through here recently. Something... off.

  "Trail mix?" Eden held up a plastic bag of nuts, raisins, and chocolate.

  "No thanks."

  "It’s peanut free. You’re okay with cashews, right?"

  "Really?” He chuckled. Of course Eden had been the one to remember his nut allergy. “Yeah, alright. Thanks."

  He took a handful, the unpalatable scent already forgotten.

  "Come on," Eden said, shouldering her pack. "Let’s go find the others."

  ***

  Boots thumping against the ground, Sasha broke into sunlight and the glimmer of the lake greeted her like an old friend. Sasha skidded to a stop on the rocky outcropping just ahead of Warren, arms raised. “Victory is mine!”

  Warren stumbled up moments later, panting. His face was red from exertion and sweat was soaking the bits of golden hair that peaked out from under his ballcap. “You cut the corner!”

  “You cut the trail!” she shot back, grinning. “I still beat you. Fair and square. And by a lot. Someone’s obviously been skipping leg day.”

  “You’ve got a hell of a stride.” Warren laughed, and dropped his pack beside her.

  She caught his grin, all teeth and heat, and looked away before it could spark something she wasn’t ready to deal with. Instead, she walked out onto a broad flat stone that jutted out into the water. The water was crystal clear and she watched as the bottom sank away into darkness below. Sasha shrugged off her pack before settling down at the edge of the stone to bask in the glorious sunshine.

  Warren settled down beside her, chomping away on some beef jerky. For once, he did the smart thing and just let companionable silence settle between them. Warren’s mouth got him into trouble, a lot. More than once she might have been tempted to throw caution to the wind and kiss the jocular dummy, but then he’d say something entirely asinine and spoil the mood. Points for Warren she guessed.

  Finishing his snack, Warren stripped off his shirt with theatrical flair, revealing a solid chest and a line of sandy-blond hair that trailed down to his waistband. A sheen of sweat caught the sun on his tanned skin, and he sprawled out beside her on the sun-warmed rock like a man auditioning for a beach calendar.

  "You can go ahead and bask in your cheating glory," he said with a smirk, folding his arms behind his head. "I still looked better doing it."

  There it is, Sasha thought with a mental sigh.

  "You just keep telling yourself that, sweetie." Sasha rolled her eyes, but couldn't help but smile a bit. Warren was not at all unpleasant to look at; she couldn't deny that.

  Behind them over the next thirty minutes, the rest of the group slowly made their way up the trail. Pablo was wheezing, but still on his feet. His cheeks were flushed, and his dark waves plastered to his forehead, the ends curling where they stuck out from under his cap. Sweat glistened on his olive-toned skin, and a faint shadow of stubble darkened his jaw despite the early hour. His black t-shirt was soaked through under the straps of his overstuffed backpack as he trudged the last few steps with stubborn determination.

  Eden stayed back with Pablo, offering water and soft, encouraging words. Sasha hadn't gotten to know Eden that well yet—quiet types like her could be hard to read—but it had been obvious from the beginning that Eden was the reason the boys had made it out of adolescence with their limbs intact. She could practically see it: Eden standing off to the side of some parking lot, arms crossed and unimpressed while the boys held onto the rear bumper of a moving car and skidded around on a fast food tray like idiots.

  Zoe rolled her eyes and smacked Mark for something he’d just said. Sasha watched them for a beat longer than necessary, a flicker of amusement rising alongside a pang of curiosity. They hadn’t done anything yet—she was pretty sure of that—but the tension between them had a gravitational pull. It was playful, familiar, and heavily charged. She wondered if this trip might be the thing that finally tipped them past whatever line they'd been toeing.

  Sasha liked this group. More than liked, honestly. All of them together felt…right. Balanced. Better than any group of friends she’d ever had. With both parents in the military, she’d grown up on bases across the country and beyond. Hard to really build a solid foundation of friends when you were always moving. What all those endless cycles of moves and constantly being the new kid had taught her, was how to use her eyes.

  She’d noticed the way Pablo looked at her. He tried not to make it obvious—which she appreciated—but she could tell all the same. And Warren? He didn’t even pretend to hide it. Always teasing, always challenging her to something, always trying to make her laugh.

  Part of her was flattered, but a larger part was wary. She genuinely liked both of them. Pablo had this quiet intensity, an understated kind of charm. And Warren...Warren was wildfire: bold, unfiltered, magnetic. He blazed with charisma and even though he could put his foot in his mouth, Sasha also couldn’t deny the attraction she felt.

  Choosing between them felt like reaching for a live wire. So, she hadn’t. Not yet. If she was honest, she wasn’t sure if she ever would. Disrupting the Fellowship’s dynamic could break something she wasn’t ready to lose. Besides, there were worse problems to have than being liked by two decent guys. So, for now, she just ran faster and let them chase.