Page 46 of Where the Darkness Goes

If I’m honest with myself, I don’t know how I feel about him. I can’t stop thinking about us in the closet or the way it made me feel to have his eyes on me in the lake. I’m not going to pretend I don’t find him gorgeous and kind and funny and easy to talk to, but he’s also maddening. Aside from Britney and my brother, Garrett knows me better than anyone in the world, but despite my best efforts, he’s not the best at letting me knowhim. His wall is miles high, and I’ve scaled it, picked it apart, and blown it to smithereens, but as soon as I think I’ve made progress, he rebuilds.

Besides, he’s…Garrett.Maybe there has always been something between us—the way he sticks around to talk to me for a few seconds after Will leaves the room, the way he texts me to ask something random even though sometimes it feels like maybe he just needed an excuse to check in, the way we constantly seem to find each other in crowded rooms—but without proof, I shoved any suspicions I had away and suffocated them.

Now, we spend our time dancing around the subject, and I won’t be the first to say it. I can’t. Especially not after the way he shut down at the lake and refused to tell me what’s in his head. Even before we were interrupted by Will, he had plenty of chances to tell me what he wants.And if that’s me.

If I’m misreading this somehow, I’ll be the one who will have to live out the remainder of the year flooded with embarrassment.

There’s also the fact that I know how Garrett is. He goes out with a lot of girls, but I’ve never actually seen him date anyoneseriously, as in for more than a week. The wall thing again, I guess.

He’s not a player necessarily. Not the type of guy who’d intentionally hurt anyone. He’s just…wild. A wild animal that doesn’t let anyone get too close, that will never let anyone tame him.

At least I’m not foolish enough to thinkIcould be that person.

When the bus stops, we collect our bags, file off, and find out our room assignments. Will and Garrett are paired together thanks to their last names being similar, but I’m paired with Kinsey Bell, who is nice enough but pretty shy.

Inside the lodge, we’re given keys to our rooms and sent to check in before being told we can meet back outside afterward to get our ski lift ticket and rent our clothing and equipment.

Kinsey and I unpack in relative silence, except for the CMT music videos playing on the TV.

“So, you like Garrett, huh?” she asks, pulling on a sweater over her shirt.

“We’re friends.” The words are automatic after years of practice, but this time they don’t feel honest. At this point I don’t know what we are—don’t know what I want and don’t know what he wants—but friendship might not be enough for either of us anymore.

I’m just not sure how I feel about that.

That night, our bodies are sore and exhausted from hours of skiing. Or, in my case, attempted skiing. I never made it to even the entry level of the lessons—the bunny slope—because I couldn’t make it past the training on the conveyor belt withoutfalling over. My brother, on the other hand, was skiing on the level just under that of a professional skier before the sun set.

Once everyone has returned their equipment and changed into warmer clothes, we meet outside to hang out before bed. Most of us gather around the oversized fire pit outside, while a few people kick off their shoes and stick their feet in the hot tub. Others walk around the mountain, taking in the views. Kinsey is on the phone with her mom.

I’m alone near the fire, mind drifting to thoughts of sleep and the long ride home tomorrow when I feel him behind me.Feelhim. It’s the strangest thing. I hear his footsteps, maybe, but there’s a lot of noise so it’s not just that. Something in my body seems to sense him in the way I’ve always imagined mothers must know where their children are. The way Mom always knows when I’m up to something without glancing my way.

I turn my head just in time for him to drop down next to me in the snow.

“So, how’d it go?” he asks, teasing. He knows how it went. He skied circles around the conveyor belt I was practicing on at least ten times.

I go stone-faced. “Great, actually. You missed it, but I was just invited to join next year’s Olympic team.”

His smile is a warm sort of sarcastic. “Really? Wow. Don’t forget about us little people. I can’t wait to tell everyone I’m friends with someone famous.”

I pretend to struggle to place him, squinting. “Sorry. What was your name again?”

He throws his head back with a laugh. “See, this is the problem with fame.” He taps my temple. “Straight to your head.”

“I’ve already ordered a bigger hat.” This is when I’m the happiest. When we’re being silly together. I’m grateful it’s a piece of this that hasn’t been lost or changed. Garrettunderstands my humor better than anyone, and he always has a comeback ready. “I take it you guys did better?”

“Your brother kicked my butt, but I wasn’t too bad.” He shrugs. “I don’t know. Maybe skiing isn’t my thing, either. I think I’d rather be somewhere warm.”

“Hot tub’s free.” I jut my chin toward it. It’s built into the ground with such thick steam rising up it looks like soup.

“Yeah.” He chuckles. “You first. I prefer my appendages to stay thawed, thank you.”

“Tell me about it. I’m starting to worry I’ll never get warm again. Our room has a big bathtub, and I’m counting down until I can go back to the room without looking antisocial. I plan to soak until the feeling starts to come back.”

When I look at him, his eyes are sort of fuzzy and distant. Like he’s not really listening to me. He swallows a gulp of coffee before meeting my gaze again. “Yeah. Same,” he croaks.

“Sorry. Am I boring you?” I ask, not nearly as offended as I sound.

He laughs. “No. The opposite, in fact.” His expression falters a bit, the playfulness washing away, and he looks entirely serious as he says, “You’re keeping me way too entertained lately. It’s becoming a problem.”

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