Page 2 of Two Weeks in Tahoe

I laugh. No, it wouldn’t be terrible, but it’s not what I’m planning on happening. Besides, I gave up on finding the boy I met on vacation a long time ago.

2

Layla

So far this year, the snowfall around Tahoe City has been mild, making the drive to the cabin manageable. It’s still early in the season, though. I can recall many trips where dad drove us through beyond sketchy conditions to get us to our destination along the shores of the lake. One trip stands out vividly: I was in the backseat, panicking as an angry blizzard raged outside. The snowfall was so thick that there was almost zero visibility. But through it all, I had absolute faith in my dad. He was my hero, always getting us safely where we needed to go.

After a long drive, I finally arrive in Tahoe City. Before I head to my cabin, I need to stop and get some fresh groceries for the week, so I locate a small market in the main part of town. I step out of the car, stretch my legs, and look around at the beautiful, idyllic town. I breathe in the fresh mountain air. So far, I’m not regretting this decision at all.

I stock up on fruit, wine, coffee, and plenty of sweets. The basics. I’m not the best cook in the world, usually opting for takeout. At the checkout line I add a few more impulsive snacks as I make small talk with the outgoing teenage girl working the register. She tells me how stoked she is for the upcoming snowboarding season, and I tell her how I don’t have a ton of experience with that. Her face looks shocked and she insists that I absolutely must try it while I’m here. I promise her that I will, and then I pay and grab my bags in a rush, since we’re holding up the impatient guy in line behind me.

The cabin is only a ten-minute drive from the market. After a few wrong turns and a couple of GPS malfunctions—totally the device’s fault, not mine—I find the cabin. It’s located near the bottom of the mountain, nestled at the end of a long, quiet road. It’s not far from the shore and the main part of town, but there’s already a lot more snow up here than down there. The cabin is small but picturesque, exactly how the listing displayed it. I park in front and step out of the car into a light dusting of snow. There are a few more inches on the mountains all around, but the roads are almost clear. For now.

Taking a slow spin, I soak in the scenery. The charming cabin, the snow-draped hills, the towering pines, and the turquoise lake in the distance are breathtaking. Closing my eyes, I feel cold wind on my cheeks and catch the fragrant, crisp scent of pine. The air smells like magic. Being here again feels…right.

After unloading my bags and setting them on the welcoming front porch, I punch in the door code I received when booking the place and step inside.

The cabin’s interior surprises me. Everything is so clean and polished. Not what I expected from a mountain cabin deep in the woods. I imagined more wear and tear, maybe some dust, but no, it’s in pristine condition.

There’s an intriguing mix of décor: unique looking antique pieces alongside modern touches like a sleek espresso machine and contemporary artwork. I’ll definitely be trying that espresso machine later.

To my surprise, the kitchen is decently stocked already. There’s espresso, a full candy dish, and even some random groceries. The owner really went above and beyond. I unwrap a few chocolates and pop them into my mouth, then return to the doorway to grab my luggage and bags of groceries.

The hallway is lined with nature-inspired art. Some of the scenes look like they may have been captured right outside these walls. Other paintings capture couples embracing in the snow or amongst trees. Their faces are hidden, but there’s a quiet intimacy in each scene, and I linger on them, drawn in by the sense of love.

At the end of the hallway there are two rooms. After peeking into both, I choose the one on the right. It has a larger bed and an attached bathroom. The bed looks like the most comfortable one I’ve ever seen, making my decision easy.

On the drive up, I thought about going out to a nearby bar this evening, but now, seeing this cozy bed, I’m reconsidering. The drive has left me groggy, and the idea of staying in, curled up by the fake fireplace, sounds increasingly appealing.

I unzip my suitcase and find soft plaid pajamas and fuzzy socks right on top. This solidifies my decision to stay in. I have two whole weeks to go out and explore, I can take one night to lounge around.

Settling into bed, I scroll through my phone for a bit before drifting into memories of past trips here. The times I spent with my parents are bittersweet, but a warm happiness fills me now. Old memories I hadn’t thought of in a long time begin to resurface, and I find myself smiling. Then my mind starts drifting to one particular spring break nearly ten years ago when I met a boy who finally made me understand what all the fuss is about with first crushes. One look at his dimpled smile, and I was a goner.

3

Layla

Ten Years Ago

My sophomore year of high school, I did not want to leave for spring break. My best friend Daniela’s boyfriend, Lance, was throwing a big birthday party, and they wanted me to be there. It was his sweet sixteen. I pleaded my case to my parents over and over, begging to stay, but they didn’t budge. Dad had a tough year at work, and Mom said he’d been looking forward to our family trip for months. On top of that, my grandma was flying out to meet us, which was surprising, since she never left the warmth of Florida. It was decided, and I had to suck it up.

We stayed in a cabin right on the water that year. It was a decent size with plenty of room for the four of us. The first couple of days, my grandma, mom, and I baked, read on the porch, and took walks along the shore.

Dad spent a lot of his time fishing. I used to join him sometimes, when I was younger and loved nothing more than spending time with my dad, but I hadn’t been into it since I was maybe twelve. He’d joked about me being a grumpy teenager. We still held on to one special tradition, though: we loved sharing a quiet cup of coffee together in the mornings. He used to spend that time alone, until one day, a year or two earlier, I was feeling particularly tired and decided I wanted to give it a try. He was more than happy to have me join him in his routine.

On the third day, I needed a break from Mom and Grandma, so I told them I was going for a walk. I threw on some boots and a coat at the door. It was the end of March, but there was still a nip in the air. They made sure to holler at me not to wander too far by myself as I slipped out the front door.

It was only a hundred yards or so to the shore. Dad was nowhere in sight, so I began to walk along it at a slow pace, picking up a rock now and then and tossing it into the water. I thought about how much I missed my friends back home, and how I felt left out missing the party.

I was trying—and failing miserably—to skip rocks when I heard a deep laugh coming from behind me. Startled, I spun around and was met with a piercing hazel gaze that left me momentarily speechless. His eyes were the kind of color where you couldn’t tell if they were brown, green, grey, or some other unknown shade. He was the cutest boy I had ever seen. I stared as he chuckled at me, noticing the dimple on his left cheek, his breathtaking smile, and his sharp jawline. It took me an embarrassingly long time to realize I was staring, mouth slightly open.

“Do you want some help with that?” he laughed.

I snapped my mouth shut, quickly trying to compose myself. “I’m figuring it out,” I replied, though it came out less snarky than I’d intended.

He laughed, shaking his head and looking down. His dark, tussled hair shifted slightly. “Okay, suit yourself,” he said, tilting his head back up, smirking.

“Let’s see another one, then.”

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