Page 46 of The Lodge

He pulls out his phone, opens a text thread with Julie.

TYLER

Meteor shower tonight, okay if I take someone up to watch?

JULES

Who are you, and what have you done with my reclusive friend??? Of course it’s okay. I’ll let security know.

I’m buzzing with anticipation. I can’t remember the last time anyone put Tyler’s level of thoughtfulness into their dates.

“Sounds amazing,” I say. “Let’s do it.”

Halfway up the mountain, I look out the gondola window and take in everything around us.

The snow that blankets the slopes below is so thick and smooth it reminds me of an impeccably decorated wedding cake, like if I took a treacherous leap from this gondola it would turn out just fine, because I’d land in a sea of buttercream frosting. And then I’d take a big scoop of it in my fingers to taste it—and it would be sweet, and perfect—but I’d smell like sugar for days.

Down in the valley, lamplight and string lights and flickering flames in their firepits give the whole place a warm, cozy glow. The village—and the lodge behind it, and our building just down the path—looks like something straight out of a postcard.

It’s a clear night: only a waning crescent moon slices through the black, velvety sky, and the stars—thestars! Just imagine someone took a whole bowl of silver glitter and flung it up to the heavens and somehow it stuck. That’s what it’s like. More stars than I’veever seen, more stars than I even realizedcouldbe seen with the naked eye, sparkling and wonderful. It’s gorgeous.

“Beautiful, right?”

His voice cuts through the silence.

“I’ve never seen anything like it,” I say.

“Just wait ’til we’re at the top,” he replies, eyes twinkling like all the glitter in the sky.

But nothing could have prepared me for the feeling that slams into me when we reach the scenic point landing: pure, awestruck wonder.

“This—this is—”

The words get stuck in my throat.

There really aren’t words for it anyway. Nothing I can think to say feels big enough. Good enough.Enoughenough. It feels like we’re giants on top of the whole world, yet infinitesimally small under the multitude of stars.

“I know,” Tyler says, his voice quiet, smile soft. “This is where I go when I need to clear my head. There’s nowhere else like it.”

He sets his backpack down on a nearby bench, pulls out a fleece blanket and wraps it around my shoulders. I look like a blanket princess, my nearly empty cup of cocoa my scepter, this entire mountain my kingdom.

Even with the blanket, it’s freezing.

Tyler notices I’m still shivering, then leads me by the hand to the bench. We sit, and he pulls me in close. I won’t be cold for long, not with his arm around me—and most definitely not with my back pressed up against his chest, which feels even more solid than it looks. Heat radiates between us.

“I’ve got these, too,” he says, shifting slightly to pull something out of his backpack.

He passes me a rechargeable hand warmer, fingertips brushing against my skin as he settles it into my palm. It’s smooth and heavy as a river stone, already toasty to the touch, like it came straight from a hot spring.

“Feels good, right?” he says.

I can hear the smile in his voice, feel the barely there graze of his lips against my temple.

Everythingfeels good, I want to tell him.

“It does,” I reply.

We settle into the most electric silence I’ve ever experienced, the two of us keeping each other warm on top of a mountain, with all the stars in the universe looking down on us. His message to Julie mentioned a meteor shower, but I have yet to see any shooting stars. It’s a good thing we’re not facing each other, or else I wouldn’t know there were any stars up there at all.

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