![]() A stone flies from her direction into the lake, sending out tiny waves. She crouches among the large rocks and I can’t see her anymore. Instead of moving toward me, Gen drops her arms to her sides and takes an unsteady step in the direction of the water. Her lips pinch and I think her nostrils flare. She glances up and swipes her forehead, her chest rising and falling with each deep gulp of air. She’s just now cresting the stones before the lake. ![]() ![]() I should cut her some slack, but her reactions are too hilarious when I don’t. She’s a runner, and wearing track shoes, while I have on the requisite sturdy hiking boots owned by every kid who grew up in Lake Tahoe. What is taking her so long? It’s our first hike since we arrived in Lake Tahoe a few days ago, but I thought she’d be in better shape than this. ![]() Speaking of later, we’ll be up here all day if Gen doesn’t hurry. Later, I will investigate those muscles with my tongue. ![]() Long cargo shorts hang low on his hips, providing a perfect view of the vee of muscles between his hipbones. He’s not wearing his shirt, and the close proximity to his muscled chest and golden skin ignites dirty thoughts of sneaking off behind a boulder and having my way with him. This should gross me out, but for some reason he looks really hot, all sweaty and disheveled. Eric reaches for me, his sandy blond hair slicked back at the roots with sweat. My legs quiver like Jell-O as I clamber over the last boulder on the east side of Eagle Lake. ![]()
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