Chapter 23 Genevieve
Genevieve
I’ve been back in Silver Lake for less than an hour, but already I feel lighter, like a weight has been lifted.
I’m not sure if it’s the town itself or Aspen’s presence that’s making me feel this way, but either way I can’t imagine ever leaving.
I’ve fallen in love with this place—and with him—and I don’t know how I’ll ever leave again. I love it here.
Aspen is so thoughtful—he got me a cheeseburger from the resort because he knew I’d be hungry when I arrived.
He’s always so considerate. He tells me he picked them up a couple of hours ago, so before handing me mine, he warms it up in the microwave.
He heats his up right after and I wait for him to finish, eager to eat together.
Mine is still too hot to touch, even though all I want to do is dive into it.
It looks so greasy and delicious, it's calling my name.
Once Aspen’s burger is ready, he leans over the laminate countertop while I sit on a bar stool facing him.
We both raise our burgers in a cheers motion and take our first bite.
I’m expecting that familiar burst of flavors from before, but instead, all I get is…
well, let's just say it’s not what I was hoping for.
Look, I’m not usually the picky type. I know I come from money, but I could eat McDonald's any day of the week. But this? This is worse than McDonald's. I’m doing my best to keep my cool, trying to get through the bite that’s steadily sitting in my mouth when Aspen walks over to the trashcan and spits his bite out.
“This is horrible,” he says.
I’m taken off guard so bad I laugh and almost choke on my burger. I follow what he does and spit my chewed up bite out into the trash.
“So bad,” I agree.
“I can’t believe my boss is actually selling this to people. He needs to find someone else to cover for Derek. People aren’t going to come back to the resort if they eat this. The food is a key part to owning a resort, most people don’t know that,” he says.
“Shit. You need to tell him,” I say.
“Oh I will!” He says. “But first, I have an idea. Put your coat back on, we’re gonna go get some food.”
I’m relieved because I’m starving and I wasn’t about to eat that shit.
I do as he says and put my coat back on. We toss both our burgers in the trash and we’re off.
***
Twinkling lights are strung across the downtown area, connecting light pole to light pole.
This place feels quaint and magical, like something out of a storybook.
I can easily picture myself spending hours here—sipping coffee at a local café or browsing the little boutiques, even if they’re probably ridiculously overpriced.
This is the cutest downtown I’ve ever seen.
It’s a charming ski town, with people strolling by in full riding gear and skis or snowboards strapped to their vehicles.
Snow lines the edges of the road, and the sidewalks are made of cobblestone, giving everything a traditional feel.
The streets are alive with energy and cheer, and every store and restaurant looks so inviting, like they’re waiting to welcome you in.
Aspen parks on the street, and we walk hand in hand, admiring the warm shimmer of the hanging lights around us.
He leads me into a pizzeria called Dante’s, where the sight of the workers stretching pizza dough in midair catches my attention.
They toss it high, catching it with their thumbs, and twirl it in graceful circles.
I’m completely mesmerized by the skill and rhythm of it all.
Aspen walks up to the hostess podium and smiles at the hostess.
“Hey Aspen,” the hostess says.
“Hey Cassie!” Aspen says.
“Table for two?” She asks.
“Yes please,” he replies.
“One second,” she says, looking around for a free table. Aspen stands in front of the podium waiting with his hands in his pockets.
Cassie brings her attention back towards us and grabs two menus to lead us to our small wooden table by the fireplace.
This place is nowhere near fancy. People are sitting, people are standing, and others are coming in and out. Aspen and I are sitting at this small wooden table with two chairs and are near a warm fire that rejuvenates my fingers from the cold.
I go to grab the laminated menu that’s only one page long and Aspen yanks it gently from my hand.
“Trust me, I know what to order,” Aspen says all sexy. I love a sexy man in charge.
“I trust you,” I tell him.
He gives me a mischievous stare down.
Our waiter, with short black hair and long, lean legs, approaches us with a friendly smile.
He asks what we’d like to order and Aspen casually tells him, “Two waters and the Aspen specialty.” I can’t help but laugh, thinking it’s funny that the waiter knew exactly what he meant.
I don’t ask any questions, though—there’s clearly some unspoken connection there.
The lighting in here is low, the only thing really giving light is the fire coming from the fireplace, the candles lit on each table, and the lights above that are on the lowest level of brightness.
It’s so romantic.
His dark lashes paint shadows on his face and I’m now realizing how beautifully long his lashes are.
"So, what are you majoring in? I don’t think I ever asked," Aspen says, pulling me from my thoughts.
I swallow the lump in my throat. I hate this question. Usually, I dodge it with a lie but I don’t want to lie to Aspen.
"I’m a business major… for now. Don’t laugh, but I’ve already switched three times this year. Honestly, I’m struggling to choose," I admit forcing a small smile.
Aspen tilts his head. "What do you want to do for a career?"
"I don’t know," I sigh. "I love fashion, but my mother would never approve. She’s this super successful surgeon who wants all her children to follow in her footsteps. My two brothers did, so now she’s relying on me to not break the mold.
But I’m not interested in it. I gave the major a try, but I didn’t love it.
I just haven’t told her that yet. I could see myself working in marketing for brands in the fashion world, though. That’s why I switched to business."
"I see. And why don’t you just tell your mom you don’t want to be a surgeon?" Aspen asks.
Jeez, I just got here and I’m already being interrogated. No one’s ever asked me that before. I don’t even know how to answer.
"Because she would die," I admit. “Plus I probably couldn’t make it in the fashion industry anyways. I don’t have my own ideas—I just pull inspiration from other people."
Aspen leans back slightly. "You do know every idea comes from another idea, right?"
I blink. I don’t think I’ve ever looked at it that way before. He’s not wrong. But how does he have so much confidence in me—more than I have in myself?
The waiter sets down our waters, ice clinking against the glass, and a glass of sprite for Aspen, then walks away.
I take a sip, trying to add some moisture to my tongue—my mouth was getting dry.
I’ve never really been interrogated about school like this before, except by my academic advisor and the dean of my college.
My parents definitely don’t care. To them, school is just an ultimatum—go or get cut off.
“I guess I never thought about it like that,” I say, considering his words.
"I’m just saying—don’t spend your life doing something you don’t love. Chase your dream. That’s what I’m doing," he says.
Working at a resort? I guess I don’t even know what his dream is.
"What’s your dream?" I ask genuinely curious.
“To become a professional snowboarder,” he says matter-of-factly.
"Seriously? I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone who’s said that before." Only that’s exactly what I can picture Aspen doing. He was born to ride.
"Well, now you have," He says just as our pizza arrives. The cheese bubbles, still sizzling from the oven. The pepperoni glistens with grease, and something drizzled on top catches my eye. I can’t quite tell what it is, but the smell is absolutely incredible.
"This is my specialty pizza—hot honey pepperoni," he shares, a hint of pride in his voice.
"There’s this pizza place up in Idaho Springs that leaves hot honey on the table, so you can drizzle it over every bite.
Once I tried it, I knew Dante had to make something similar.
He put his own twist on it, and now this is my go-to. "
"I love that—but why hot honey?" I ask, curious.
Aspen smirks. "Just take a bite. That’ll answer your question."
He’s so confident that I will like this that I really hope I do. I do not want to go home and dig those horrible burgers out of the trash.
I grab the slice of pizza ignoring the burn that creeps up my fingertips and take a careful bite, trying my best not to look like a complete mess.
I toss the bite of pizza around in my mouth to let it cool down, but the cheese is still singeing my tongue.
I try to bear through it and swallow. As the bite slides down my throat, I'm hit with a wave of flavor that lingers, rich and satisfying—far more than I expected.
“Oh my God this is amazing,” I say honestly impressed.
“Told ya,” Aspen says all cool like the kind of cool guy he is.
“You weren’t joking! Now you’re going to have to take me to Idaho Springs sometime so we can have that other pizza you mentioned earlier,” I tell him.
“I’d love that,” he says with a soft smile. And I’m not sure if he noticed, but I think we just made future plans that both of us know we can’t keep.
Great, now I’m already sad about this ending and I just got here.
With that, I devour the rest of my slice like if I were in a fast eating competition. This pizza is so good! And I’m from New York, the home of pizza. But this beats almost anything I’ve tried.
“I’ll have to take you to New York sometime. We’re kind of known for our pizza,” I tell him. There I go making more plans.
"So I’ve heard. I’ve never been. I’ve also never had any desire to go, but if you’re taking me, I’d love to go," he says, his words effortless, like he always knows exactly what to say and how to say it.
Aspen has a way with words that never fails to catch me off guard. I grab a second slice of pizza, this one cool enough to actually eat now without burning my mouth. I take a bite, savoring it, letting the flavors linger as I focus on the simple joy of the moment.
Aspen's already on his fifth or sixth slice—honestly, I’ve lost count.
I’m not really paying attention to the food anymore, though.
All I can do is enjoy being in his presence again.
The world around us seems to fade into the background and my focus narrows to just him—his movements, his smile, the way his laughter fills the space between us.
He makes every moment we spend together feel so special.
He pays the bill like the gentleman he is and we get up and exit the restaurant, leaving no scraps behind.