"Ms. Clifford, I made these this morning. I only have lemon and orange. Which would you prefer?"
Finch held the two bottles out to her. Wendy paused, then managed a small smile. "Either is fine."
She didn't want to refuse. Remembering her friends' words from the night before, she felt a little shy. "Then have the orange. I think it tastes better," Finch said, twisting off the cap and handing it to her.
"Thank you."
Their eyes met, and they both smiled. Wendy took a sip, letting the juice swish in her mouth to hide the grin spreading across her face.
After a few minutes of rest, Wendy looked up the path. The main group was a good distance ahead of them. Not wanting to be left behind, she stood up briskly and dusted off her pants. "Let's go. We need to catch up."
"Wait a second." Finch stopped her just as she was about to move. "Hmm? What's…" Before she could finish, he bent down, pointing to her right ankle. "You've scraped it. Does it hurt?"
"Huh?"
Confused, Wendy followed his gaze and saw that her ankle was bleeding slightly. She'd felt a dull ache there while climbing but had dismissed it as fatigue. It had been years since she'd gone hiking, and her feet weren't used to it.
"It's nothing, just a small scrape," she said, shrugging it off as she slung her backpack over her shoulder, ready to go.
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