The Distance from Me to You Read Online Free Page B

Originally they’d decided Courtney would be the one in charge of cooking, but since she’d be eating alone, McKenna figured she could sustain herself on minimal trail meals and then splurge when she got to atown. Along with freeze-dried camping meals of various sorts of noodles, she’d packed a hefty supply of turkey jerky, dried fruit, and granola bars.
    About halfway through dinner, the waiter stopped by to ask if everything was okay.
    â€œGreat,” Brendan said. “Could I get a Molson?”
    â€œSure. Got an ID on you?”
    â€œOh.” Brendan fumbled a little. “I think I left it in the hotel room.”
    â€œSorry, bud,” the waiter said, and retreated.
    McKenna looked at him suspiciously. Usually Brendan said no to beer even at parties. She wondered again if he was planning something momentous for tonight.
    Brendan shrugged, just embarrassed enough that it was endearing. She watched him dig back into his steak, his dark hair flopping across his forehead, his cheeks still pink from the waiter’s rejection. It was so sweet and considerate of Brendan to drive her up here, stay with her, keep her secret. Really, he was the perfect boyfriend. Maybe tonight
should
be the night, whether Brendan had planned it or not. She was almost eighteen. Maybe it was time.
    She reached across the table and touched his forearm. “I’m really glad you’re here with me,” she said.
    Brendan looked up. “Me, too.” He nodded toward her half-eaten meal. “You better finish that. Might be the last hot meal you see for a while.”
    Just then two college-aged guys of the just-off-the-trailvariety slid into their booth, one beside McKenna and one beside Brendan. Before McKenna could open her mouth, the one next to her held up a silver flask.
    â€œWe heard the waiter turn you down,” he said, grinning through many days’ worth of stubble. He carried the distinct odor of accumulated sweat and camp smoke, but both guys looked so friendly that McKenna couldn’t help smiling. He hovered the flask over her Coke and she found herself nodding.
    â€œRum?” she asked, a little too late, after a liberal amount had been added to her soda.
    â€œBourbon,” he said, doing the same to Brendan’s drink. “I’m Stewart and this is Jackson. We just rolled in from Georgia.”
    â€œNo way!” McKenna said. “You’re thru hikers? And you just finished?”
    â€œYep,” Jackson said. “Started in February. Did some serious winter camping.”
    â€œWow,” McKenna said. “Congratulations. And you made great time.”
    Brendan sipped his drink, looking grateful for the alcohol but ready for their new friends to get lost.
    â€œOh, that’s nothing,” Stewart said. “The record is forty-six days.”
    â€œI know!” McKenna said. “Jennifer Pharr Davis. I read her book.”
    She looked over at Brendan triumphantly, wondering if she’d remembered to tell him that the speed record for the AT was held by a woman.
    â€œOf course, she had a team meeting her at intervals,” Stewart said, “so she didn’t have to carry much. Not like us.”
    â€œOr me,” McKenna said. “I’m starting my thru hike tomorrow.”
    â€œYeah. We are,” Brendan added quickly. McKenna started to flash him an indignant look, but had to admit he was probably right to chime in. No sense advertising that she was heading out on her own.
    â€œWow.” Jackson whistled, low and impressed. “Southbound. That’s hard-core. Hope you have cold-weather gear for the last legs. Trust us, it gets cold in those southern mountains.”
    â€œI do,” McKenna said. “I mean, we do.”
    â€œKatahdin’s the hardest stretch of the whole trail. You better not have too much more of this,” Stewart said, adding just the smallest bit more bourbon to each of their glasses.