Page 42 of Dating Goals
He flashes me a grin. “What do you think about hiking?”
I stop dead in my tracks. “Without snowshoes?”
“We’ll take the gondola up to Hannigalp. There’s a trail called the Questioning Round Tour.”
“I’m quite familiar with all the trails. I’ve lived here my whole life.”
“But you haven’t seen them…with me.”
“You do realize it’s winter, right?”
“Best time to go! It’s like having the whole mountain to ourselves.”
“It’s the worst time to go. Nobody else does because the trails are closed.”
Where’s your sense of adventure?” he retorts. “It’ll be awesome.”
I groan, but there’s no shaking him. I have to laugh. “You’re crazy, you know that?”
“Aw, thanks. That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”
I punch him playfully on the arm and pretend my fist doesn’t sting. “Not a compliment, big guy.”
We board the gondola, just the two of us, and somehow, this little box car feels smaller than usual. Outside, white mountain peaks tower dramatically against a cobalt sky. I try to focus on the view, pretending that having a drop-dead gorgeous Canadian willing to spend time with me is totally normal. The ascent is slow, and with each passing meter, my resolve thaws a little more.
When we hop out, we find ourselves on a plateau overlooking the vast valley.
“Let’s get this crazy thing over with,” I say.
The path winds through snow-blanketed trees as snow crunches beneath our boots. There’s a signpost marking the trail with a big question mark painted on it.
We stop to read the inscription by author Rolf Dobelli. It’s in both English and German, which is helpful so Griffin can practice.
It says:
Would you mind if the contents of your brain could be read like a hard drive after your death?
Griffin pulls a face. “Whoa. That one’s creepy.”
“That question is as ridiculous as this entire date,” I say.
“I’d say the date is definitely my favorite of the two,” he counters softly.
He waits, like he actually wants an answer to the trailhead question.
“Not sure the world needs a complete map of my inner mind,” I admit. “They’d fall asleep from boredom.”
Griffin’s eyes soften as he says, “I beg to differ.”
GAH! What is happening? I run ahead to the next marker and read what it says.
What if you lost all your possessions? Could you be happy?
He catches up. “I’ve moved enough times for hockey that it’s like I’m a pro minimalist.”
I grin, knowing this is way easier than if this were an actual date. Not that this is actually a date. That’s why it’s fun. I won’t get embarrassed if Griffin doesn’t seem interested.
We tramp on, snow crunching beneath our feet, the sun sparkling off white-dusted trees.
