





This has to be the craziest thing I’ve heard in awhile on 90 Day Fiancé. Trying to blame OCD for being homeless and making out with random people at the bar is Olympic level gaslighting. She seems very odd.
Listen, I thought I’d finally processed the trauma of my Pentecostal upbringing, but Ashia just undid five years of therapy in ten minutes 💀 I haven’t been this uncomfortable since I got cornered by the prayer warriors at youth camp in 2008.. who else is currently triggered but also can’t look away?
“I want to be a real hiker,” I said, pulling the laces of my boots until the fabric bit into my skin.
Eli watched from the kitchen with a smirk. “What makes you think you aren’t one now?”
I shrugged. “I haven’t gone deep enough. The mountains haven’t tasted me yet.”
He let out a playful scoff, opening the cabinet. “Hey, have you seen the black hydro flask? The one with the dent?”
I flexed my foot, the fresh lugs of my boots gripping the carpet. “I already packed it. I’ve got two of everything. Protein bars, apples. I even brought green tea for the caffeine kick.”
He shut the cabinet, his gaze dropping to the pack on the floor. “The first aid kit?”
“Got it.” I lifted the pack in front of me with a smile, the weight heavier than expected.
He stopped moving, allowing his shoulders to fall. “And you say you’re not a real hiker.”
-
The drive to the trailhead was a blur of bright spring colors, the sun pushing through the pine trees as we made our way to the end of the pavement. The Jeep lurched forward, tires slamming into potholes left behind by the harsh winter the further we went. We bypassed the crowded trails, the ones flooded by tourists and children, crossing a rusted one-lane bridge where the glacial runoff roared a hundred feet below us.
By the time we reached the trail marker, the world had gone silent. Even my phone had lost service.
“There,” I said, pointing to a wooden signpost nearly strangled by vines. “That’s the trailhead.”
Our tires left the dirt and rolled into tall grass as Eli pulled us off the road.
“Okay,” I whispered, my finger tracing the lines on the map. “Once we crest the first ridge, it looks like we’ll have a glimpse of the water.”
Eli didn’t look over. He was staring out the window at the road ahead, a narrow ribbon of dirt disappearing into the dark forest. “It looks like this road keeps going,” he said. “What’s past the bend?”
Before I could answer, a car skidded into the grass beside us, doors flying open as five hikers and a dog spilled out, their laughter shattering the stillness.
Eli’s jaw tightened. “Uh. Do you really want to hike with a crowd this size?”
I glanced up at the dark bend in the road. Then back at the map. “There’s another marker two miles up,” I muttered. “I think it’s a trail.”
He leaned in, his finger tapping a blue speck near the jagged peak of Mt. Cruiser. “Is that a lake?” He reached over, taking the map from me. “Shit, babe. The trail farther up leads to a hidden lake.”
The voices of the other hikers grew louder as they passed behind the jeep, their neon windbreakers a sharp contrast against the deep green and brown forest.
I wanted the silence back. I wanted isolation.
He nudged me, a smirk playing across his face. “You said you wanted to be a real hiker, didn’t you?”
I glanced up toward the trail once more, watching as the group disappeared. “Fuck it,” I breathed with a smirk. “Let’s ride.”
Eli laughed as he slammed the Jeep into gear. He draped an arm out the window, one hand gripping the wheel as we surged forward. “That’s my hiker,” he said with a wink.