Page 45 of We're At It Again

“I did.” She said, her words carrying the weight of our shared history.

I sighed, turning to her with the most serious look I could muster.

“That summer, when I destroyed our -”

“Let’s not speak about that.” She said. “It’s all in the past.”

I reached my hand out.

“Truce?”

She didn’t hesitate to shake my hand with a smile.

“Truce.”

The icy barrier between us melted away, leaving a newfound understanding behind. The air seemed lighter, infused with the warmth of reconciliation.

As she walked back to the lodge, I seized the chance to throw a snowball at her. She spun around, laughter bubbling forth as she retaliated with a flurry of snowballs. I’d declared war. Our laughter rang into the stillness of the chilly night. When her back was turned, I ran towards her and pulled her down into the blanket of snow. We rolled onto our backs and watched as the snowflakes descended from the heavens. Our breaths mingled with the cold air in soft, misty puffs. The world was calm as if holding its breath. The only sound was the gentle rustle of the wind through the trees.

I turned my head to look at her, taking in the delicate curve of her profile. Her lashes cast shadows on her cheeks and the soft blush that tinted her nose and cheeks made her look ethereal. I felt a warmth in my chest as I admired her beauty. She turned to meet my eyes, a small smile playing at the corners of her lips.

“What are you looking at?” she asked, her voice a gentle whisper that floated on the crisp night air.

I smiled, a mischievous glint in my eyes.

“Just admiring the view.”

A blush crept up on her cheeks. She averted my gaze, the corners of her mouth lifted in a shy smile.

“We should head back inside before we freeze to death.”

I sighed, the sound with heavy reluctance, but I pushed myself from the snow. Offering her a hand, I helped her to her feet. As we walked back to the lodge, the warmth of our shared moment lingered between us. I glanced at her as we crossed the threshold, my heart heavy with desire to hold on to the magical moment in the snow, because once we leave here, we’ll go back to pretending.

?

Two weeks have passed since the senior trip. I perched high in the branches of an old oak tree in the woods near my home. The late afternoon sunlight filtered through the leaves, casting scattered shadows on the ground below. I wiped the sweat from my brow with the back of my hand as I surveyed my progress. The treehouse was taking shape, its wooden beams sturdy and well-placed.

“It’s looking good, kid.” My father’s voice called up from below, breaking the tranquil silence of the forest.

I glanced down, a grin spreading across my face.

“It should. It’s taken me two years.”

“Are you going to let her see it?”

My grin faded.

“I’m not sure.” I said, shifting my gaze back to the treehouse.

“Let’s not pretend she’s not the reason you’ve been doing this.” He said, a gentle encouragement in his tone. “She’d love it.”

I sighed, running a hand through my hair.

“I’ll think about it.”

He smiled up at me, with a look of understanding in his eyes.

“I wouldn’t think for too long.”

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