I drove to her nail salon because I was not ready to say goodbye

I met Amanda during a group hiking trip outside Jackson.

My name is Cole. I am 30, white, and had joined the hike while taking a short vacation in Wyoming. Amanda was 34, Vietnamese, curvy, and much more prepared for the trail than I was.

We started talking after I nearly slipped on a wet section of rock.

Amanda grabbed my arm and helped me regain my balance. She laughed and said I should spend less time looking at the mountains and more time watching my feet.

For the rest of the hike, we stayed near each other.

She told me she worked as a nail tech and lived about an hour from where I was staying. I told her I worked remotely and had taken the trip because I needed a break from doing the same thing every day.

Amanda was easy to talk to. She was funny, direct, and not afraid to tease me when I became tired.

By the end of the day, I felt like I had known her much longer than a few hours.

We exchanged contact information, but after the group separated, neither of us said anything about meeting again.

I returned to my hotel and kept thinking about her.

The next morning, Amanda sent me a picture she had taken of the hiking group. She also mentioned the name of the nail salon where she worked.

I looked it up and discovered it was almost an hour away.

I had never gotten a pedicure before, but I booked one with her anyway.

When I arrived at the salon two days later, Amanda stared at me like she could not believe I had actually come.

She asked whether my feet had suffered that badly during the hike.

I told her they were fine.

Then I admitted I had booked the appointment because I did not want that trip to be the last time we saw each other.

Amanda smiled, but she also looked nervous.

She said she had wanted to ask me to meet for coffee but assumed I was only being friendly because we were part of the same group.

I told her I had driven nearly an hour for a pedicure. That was more effort than ordinary friendliness.

She laughed and agreed.

During the appointment, we talked about what would happen after my vacation ended. I lived several hours away, and Amanda had a full schedule at the salon.

She said she did not want to begin something that would disappear as soon as I went home.

I understood, but I asked her to have dinner with me before deciding there was no future.

We went out after her shift.

That dinner turned into another date the following evening.

When my vacation ended, we agreed to keep talking instead of making promises we might not be able to keep.

It has been nine months since that hiking trip.

I now visit Jackson whenever my work allows, and Amanda has visited me twice. The distance is not easy, but neither of us has walked away.

I still get pedicures at her salon when I visit.

Amanda says my feet never really needed professional help.

She is right.

I only needed a reason to see her again.