Chapter 2: The Ascent of Desire

The trail wound upward through dense pine forest, each switchback revealing glimpses of the valley below. Evelyn's new hiking boots gripped the rocky path with confidence, but it was the man walking beside her that made her pulse quicken with every step.

"You're setting quite a pace," Dan observed, his camera bouncing against his chest as he matched her rhythm. "Trying to outrun something?"

The question hit closer to home than he probably intended. "Just eager to see this famous lake," she replied, not trusting herself to look at him. "Rachel's been obsessing over the photos online."

"Right. For Rachel." His tone was carefully neutral, but she caught the slight emphasis on the last word.

They'd been hiking for an hour, and the careful small talk that had carried them through the first part of the trail was wearing thin. Every shared laugh, every moment when he steadied her over a tricky rock scramble, every time she caught him watching her with those intense blue eyes—it all felt like walking across a minefield of unspoken tension.

The incline grew steeper, forcing them to focus on the physical challenge. Evelyn's thighs burned as they climbed, but she pushed harder, as if she could somehow outpace the dangerous thoughts circling her mind. Behind her, she could hear Dan's steady breathing, occasionally punctuated by the click of his camera as he captured shots of the surrounding wilderness.

"Hold up," he called when they reached a small clearing. "I want to get some shots of that rock formation."

Evelyn stopped gratefully, pulling out her water bottle and trying not to watch as Dan moved with practiced ease, adjusting his camera settings. The morning sun highlighted the golden streaks in his brown hair, and when he crouched to get a better angle, his t-shirt rode up slightly, revealing a strip of tanned skin above his hiking shorts.

Stop it, she ordered herself. He's Rachel's brother. Off limits. Forbidden.

But the word "forbidden" only seemed to make her awareness of him more acute.

"You know," Dan said without looking up from his camera, "you don't have to pretend this isn't weird."

"What do you mean?"

He straightened, meeting her eyes directly. "Come on, Ev. We've been dancing around each other for two years. Rachel's matchmaking attempts, the way you disappear whenever I show up at group things, that night at Jake's birthday when we—"

"When we what?" The question came out sharper than she intended.

"When we almost kissed on his balcony before you ran back inside like I had the plague."

Heat flooded her cheeks. She'd hoped he'd forgotten about that night, hoped the alcohol had blurred his memory of how close they'd come to crossing a line. "I didn't run."

"No?" His smile was knowing, dangerous. "Then what would you call it?"

"I call it being smart." She capped her water bottle with more force than necessary. "Some things are better left alone."

"Are they?"

The question hung between them like a challenge. Dan took a step closer, close enough that she could see the small scar above his left eyebrow, a childhood remnant that somehow made him look even more ruggedly appealing.

"We should keep moving," she said, but her voice came out breathless.

"Should we?"

Another step closer. Now she could feel the warmth radiating from his body, could see the way his eyes had darkened to the color of storm clouds.

"Dan..." It was meant to be a warning, but his name on her lips sounded more like a prayer.

"Tell me to back off," he said quietly. "Tell me you don't feel this thing between us, and I'll back off."

The words should have been easy. They were the smart choice, the safe choice, the choice that wouldn't complicate her friendship with Rachel or shatter the careful balance of their group dynamic. But when she opened her mouth, nothing came out.

Because the truth was, she did feel it. Had felt it from the moment she'd met him, this electric current that seemed to arc between them whenever they were in the same room. She'd spent two years convincing herself it was one-sided, that her attraction to him was just another example of her weakness for charming, dangerous men.

But the way he was looking at her now, like she was the only thing in the world worth photographing...

"I can't," she whispered.

"Can't what? Can't tell me to back off, or can't feel what's happening here?"

"Both. Neither. I don't know." She pressed her hands to her temples, frustrated by her own confusion. "This is exactly why I avoid being alone with you."

"Because you're attracted to me."

It wasn't a question, and the confident way he said it should have annoyed her. Instead, it sent a thrill through her that she couldn't suppress.

"Because you're Rachel's brother," she corrected, though the words felt hollow even to her own ears.

"And?"

"And she's my best friend. And you're... you."

"What's wrong with me?" His tone was light, but she caught the edge underneath.

"Nothing. That's the problem." The admission slipped out before she could stop it. "You're exactly the kind of guy I always fall for. The kind who's charming and confident and gorgeous and probably has a different girl in his bed every weekend."

Something shifted in his expression. "Is that what you think of me?"

"Isn't it true?"

He was quiet for a long moment, studying her face. "When's the last time you saw me with someone?"

The question caught her off guard. She tried to think back through group gatherings, parties, casual hangouts. "I... there was that blonde at Sarah's housewarming party—"

"That was eight months ago, and we went on exactly one date." He moved closer again, and this time she didn't step back. "Try again."

"The redhead from your photography class—"

"Six months ago. Also one date." His hand came up to cup her cheek, thumb brushing across her skin with devastating gentleness. "You want to know the truth? I haven't been able to get interested in anyone else because I can't stop thinking about you."

The confession hit her like a physical blow. "Dan..."

"Every time I see you laugh at something I said, every time you bite your lip when you're concentrating, every time you look at me like you're doing right now—like you want me as much as I want you—it drives me crazy."

"We can't." But even as she said it, she was leaning into his touch.

"Can't we?"

"Rachel—"

"Isn't here." His thumb traced the line of her jaw. "It's just us, Ev. Just you and me and these mountains and no one else for miles."

The isolation of their situation hit her fully for the first time. They were completely alone, surrounded by wilderness, with nothing but the sound of wind through the pines and the distant call of a hawk circling overhead. No witnesses. No consequences. No one to know if she finally gave in to the desire that had been eating at her for two years.

"This is crazy," she breathed.

"The best things usually are."

When he leaned down, she didn't pull away. Their lips met in a kiss that was soft at first, tentative, giving her one last chance to change her mind. But when she responded, her hands fisting in his shirt to pull him closer, the kiss deepened into something hungry and desperate.

She'd been right about him being dangerous. The way he kissed her, like she was something precious and wild that he'd been waiting his whole life to capture, made her feel reckless in a way that both thrilled and terrified her.

When they finally broke apart, both breathing hard, he rested his forehead against hers.

"We should keep hiking," he said, but his hands were still on her waist, holding her close.

"Yes," she agreed, making no move to step away.

"The lake's still two miles up."

"Two miles."

"Rachel will want to see the photos."

"She will."

Neither of them moved.

Finally, Dan laughed, a sound rough with desire and frustration. "This is going to be the longest two miles of my life."

"Why's that?" she asked, though she already knew the answer.

"Because now I know how you taste," he said, his voice low and intimate. "And I'm going to be thinking about nothing else until we get to that lake."

The promise in his words sent heat pooling low in her belly. "Maybe we should focus on the hike."

"Good idea." But his eyes were still fixed on her lips.

"Dan."

"Right. Hiking. Mountains. Fresh air." He finally stepped back, running a hand through his hair. "Let's go before I do something we'll both regret."

Or something we won't regret at all, Evelyn thought as they resumed their climb. The idea should have scared her. Instead, it made her pulse race with anticipation.

The trail grew steeper, winding through stands of aspen that flickered silver and green in the mountain breeze. They walked mostly in silence now, but it was a different kind of quiet than before—charged with awareness and possibility.

Every time Dan offered his hand to help her over a fallen log or across a stream, every accidental brush of their bodies when the trail narrowed, every shared glance during their brief rest stops—it all felt like foreplay, building toward something inevitable.

By the time they caught their first glimpse of sapphire water glinting through the trees, Evelyn's skin felt like it was on fire. The lake was still hidden, just a promise of blue beyond the pine boughs, but she could hear the distant roar of falling water.

"Almost there," Dan said, his voice rough with exertion and something else entirely.

"Almost," she agreed, though she wasn't sure they were talking about the same destination anymore.

The final switchback revealed the lake in all its glory—a perfect circle of impossibly blue water surrounded by granite walls that rose like cathedral spires toward the cloudless sky. A waterfall cascaded from the rocks above, sending mist dancing across the surface like living jewels.

But Evelyn barely noticed the stunning vista. All her attention was focused on the man beside her, the way his eyes reflected the sapphire water, the way his chest rose and fell with each breath, the way he was looking at her like she was more beautiful than any natural wonder.

"It's perfect," she whispered.

"Yes," he said, still watching her face. "It is."

And in that moment, with the roar of the waterfall drowning out the voice of reason in her head, Evelyn knew there was no going back. Whatever happened next, whatever consequences waited for them back at camp, she was going to let herself have this.

Just this once, she was going to be the wild, reckless woman she'd always been too afraid to become.

The thought should have terrified her.

Instead, it set her free.