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The cathedral ceiling between the kitchen and the living room allowed for a generous view of tall pine trees and a wide, pristine river. ‘This used to be a logging river, no?’ I so enjoyed that James was more interested in the river than he was in the giant plasma screen television. It was clearly visible thanks to the open concept of the house, but I doubted it would be getting much use that weekend. My heart fluttered at the thought of the days to come. We would be isolated in an idyllic house in the woods. The two of us had spent most of the previous weekend a tangled mess in James’ bed, but we were about to spend nearly a week alone in my parents’ house while they were on vacation. I walked toward the giant living room window, pretending to contemplate the river while really I was considering our options for dinner. James stood behind me and leaned down to rest his chin on my shoulder. A wave of bliss crashed over me as his tanned, well-muscled arms wrapped around my waist. I. History. Food. Philosophy. Sometimes they even got personal—his dating life, her relationship. He got the impression that she was less than satisfied with this guy. Not miserable, not particularly unhappy, but less than satisfied. You spend time with someone, in their case once or twice a week between spring and fall, and a picture forms. After a series of small hills, they came to a relatively flat stretch of our route. Relatively flat because anyone who’s ever ridden a bike knows that there’s no such thing as a perfectly flat surface. Cyclists can feel the undulating subtleness of road topography more so than drivers in cars and even pedestrians. This was a fast stretch, a slightly sloping piece of asphalt road that allowed them to ride in their big chain ring while keeping a cadence of around eighty RPMs. A mile later, the sky darkened and the wind picked up. Then it started raining. ‘Let’s get moving,’ Michael said. They were about five miles from the parking lot and he figured.
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