9
Layla
The sound of my friend Daniela’s laugh echoes through my phone. We’re on a video call, and I’m filling her in on everything that’s gone on the last couple of days. I give her an in-depth description of my adorable, cozy cabin, tell her about the shopping I did and the kind old lady I met, and, of course, mention Liam. That’s the part she’s most interested in. She makes a crude joke about what I should be doing with him right now and then laughs at the expression on my face. I’m not a prude by any means, but the things that come out of her mouth sometimes are up there with my grandma’s unfiltered statements—only much dirtier.
“I’m telling you the man does not even remember me. I pined after him for how long? And yet he doesn’t even remember my face. I recognized him almost immediately.”
“I mean, you have gotten hotter with age,” Daniela says encouragingly. “You’re not that tiny little sixteen-year-old girl anymore. Like, you’re an actual badass with all that lifting and running you got into this year. I’d kill for that ass.”
I sigh. I had gotten deep into working out this past year, but it was just because I needed an outlet for all my anger and frustrations. After I slowed down on therapy, it became the best thing for my mental health. When I need to get some aggression out, I punch some bags or lift some heavy weights, and it helps. And then I eat more than enough sugar to cancel it all out. It’s all about balance.
“My ass is alright. Yours is way better.”
“Oh please,” she says, and I laugh. “Speaking of asses, how is his?”
“I couldn’t tell you. Haven’t noticed.” I lie. It’s perfect. I looked at it more than a handful of times at the gym.
“Oh, come on, you’re lying!” She calls my bluff immediately.
“Okay, I’m lying!” I admit, feeling my cheeks flush as I think about it now. “It’s strong and perfect, just like the rest of him. Are you happy?”
“Yes. Yes, I am,” my obnoxious friend laughs. “You know, just because he doesn’t remember you doesn’t mean there still can’t be something there. I mean, it was ten years ago. You can’t be too mad.”
“I’m not mad. I’m just…surprised. And anyway, that is not what I came here for. I came for me. And I came for my family.” My tone turns glum.
“I know. But you’ve been doing so well these past few months. They’d want you to be happy…”
“Yeah. I know they would. Maybe you’re right, if I run into him again…maybe a little vacation hookup could be exactly what I need. He’s insanely hot. And did I mention he has tattoos?”
My friend throws her head back in a dramatic fashion. “Oh my lord. You’re a goner,” she laughs. “Are you still on the pill?”
“Yes, Mommy,” I reply.
“Ooh, Mommy…I like that,” she says with a devilish grin.
I laugh, shaking my head. “Anyway, I’ve got to go. I have a skiing lesson to catch.”
**
I spend the rest of the day falling on my butt on the slopes. I’ve never been very good at skiing. Given our favorite vacation spot, you’d think my parents were avid skiers, since people come from all over the world to ski and snowboard here, but we only tried it on occasion. Last week when I was feeling more adventurous, I’d booked this lesson, but driving back to my cabin now, sore and exhausted, I’m full of regret. I will not be returning for a second lesson.
There’s a light flurry of snow falling as I step out of my car in front of the cabin, wincing at the stiffness and pain. November isn’t the heaviest month for snowfall, but the weather around here can be erratic, and you never know when you might find yourself caught in a blizzard. I hope the mild snowfall lasts for the duration of my trip, so I can come and go as I please.
Walking up the pathway, my heart jumps with excitement as my eye catches something. Right next to the stone walkway, with a very thin dusting of powder on it, is a light blue toy truck. Jackson’s prized possession. I’m thrilled I found it, since the kid was so sad about losing it the other night. The pessimist in me thought it may be gone forever, but I secretly hoped I’d find it and be the hero. Not only would it be awesome to see the smile on the kid’s face, but it would also give me the perfect excuse to reach out to Liam. I pick the toy up and bring it inside.
The cabin is as warm and welcoming as always, and as I place the truck on the counter, my stomach tightens. I realize that this now means I have to text Liam. Or…I get to text Liam? I’m still not sure how I feel.
I stare at the truck for a while, spinning my phone absently on the counter. Of course I’m going to return the truck back to Jackson; I’m just…overthinking.
I’d be lying if I said I haven’t thought about that night over the years. While I’ve had other relationships since then, naturally, I’ve never had that instant connection that I had with Liam that night. The way we talked all night and just clicked …it’s hard to forget that feeling. Then again, maybe it only feels so special because of the mystery and never knowing. He was the one that got away, as they say. The allure of that mystery stayed with me, even as I eventually moved on. But I kept that memory tucked clearly in the back of my mind.
Screw it. I grab my phone and tap on his contact, my heart leaping when I notice he left a picture of himself with it, along with his full name: Liam Barnes. He has a serious expression with one of his eyebrows lifted, his gaze piercing right into me even from the phone. He is most definitely hot. A holiday fling is sounding better and better.
As I look at the picture and replay my run-in with him, I realize this is not simply the remnants of a teenage crush. I am fully attracted to this man. At least sexually. The cocky, flirty smirk he had glued to his face the other day, and the tattoos that peaked out above his collar … I suddenly want to know how far they go.
Maybe I start with returning his nephew’s truck and go from there. Before composing a message, however, I realize I should probably take a quick shower first.
I sing through my entire shower, completely giddy at the thought of seeing him again. I’m not letting myself consider the idea that he might already have someone. Not right now. If that ends up being the case, I’ll deal with that disappointment later. But he seemed very flirty with me during our last couple of run-ins, so I’m thinking he’s unattached. For now, I’m going to return the truck to the kid, soak in the joy on his face, and feel him out. I need to know for sure.
Once I’m all clean and dressed in a cute periwinkle blue knit sweater, a simple gold necklace, and dark jeans, I sit at a barstool in the kitchen and try to text Liam. But no messages are going through. I have no signal.
I wait a few minutes, tapping my feet and humming a few classic holiday songs before I try again.
Half an hour passes, and it’s still not working. Determined to end poor Jackson’s misery, I grab my keys and head out the door. Liam also left his address in his contact information; he must have really wanted that truck returned. Since my service isn’t working, I’m going to try to find it the old-fashioned way. I know the general direction—Jackson pointed it out amongst a cluster of cabins nearby the other day.
As I drive down my small hill, I realize the sun is starting to set, and the snow is falling more heavily than it was when I returned from skiing.
It only takes me a few minutes to find his street. The towering pines lining the streets are collecting a decent layer of snow, and I can’t help but marvel at the scene. It’s truly beautiful. The mountains and trees have always called to me, but something about seeing them in all their winter glory is especially magical.
A large, gorgeous cabin on a small hill catches my eye, and as I drive closer, I think I recognize it as Liam’s parents’ cabin. Or at least, it used to be. I double-check the address on my phone. This is it. Does he still live with his parents?
I pull into the long driveway, step out of my vehicle, clutching the little blue truck, and pause to take it all in. I close my eyes, let the cold snowflakes hit my face, and breathe in deeply, taking in the smell of wood mixed with pine needles and snow. It’s heaven.