Page 73 of Hard to Score

I glance over to Drew and shake my head, still trying to believe he went to all this trouble.

He’s sitting beside me with a headset on and his hand casually resting on my thigh, as the world outside the window beside him zips away. It’s gone from concrete jungle to lush green trees. City to country.

If I thought the date in general was a surprise, Drew pulling up to the airport and walking us onto the tarmac toward an awaiting helicopter was even more so.

He smiles at me, and I want to crawl into his lap and just remember this feeling. That he took the time to plan something for me. Perhaps a little over the top, but incredible nonetheless.

And my body is still reeling from that kiss. Odd when we’ve already slept together, when we had that hot-as-hell sex against the door in Miami—but there was something about the feeling behind it that told me this was more . . . that he is taking the next step toward trying to figure out what it is that we are.

“Are you going to tell me where we’re going yet?” I ask, making his grin widen.

“Right there.”

I follow where his finger points and it’s a massive lake sprawling between a thick forest of trees. Leaning closer to the window, I take it all in. The glistening of the sun off the lake. The boats zipping around on the water. The green of the trees surrounding it.

It looks like summer and relaxation, and when I turn to look at him my grin is wide. “Really?”

He nods. “Do you remember it?”

It’s my turn to stare at him for a beat as realization hits me. He’s taking me back to our childhood playground: Lake George. Where we’d spend summers and eat way too many s’mores while trying to scare the crap out of each other with ghost stories.

They are the days I remember as carefree and innocent. When laughter filled the cabins we rented, the nights stretched into lying on our backs and staring at the stars, and when my mom was still alive. It’s amazing how I still miss her like crazy after all this time, and after seeing the lake, this is one of those times. Memories flood back. The sound of her laughter as I accidentally overturned the kayak we were in one summer. The way she’d sing the Star-Spangled Banner at the top of her lungs when we watched the fireworks explode over the lake on the Fourth of July. Her penchant for sneaking us kids down to the ice cream parlor under the guise of going to get some exercise and then make sure the evidence was hidden from everyone else. How she’d call us into their bedroom so we could have snuggle time that would end up with giggles and tickles.

Thoughts of Lake George are always happy and carefree. And Drew brought me here today. Does that mean he’s prepared for some of his past to enter the present?

“Are you serious?”

He just smiles as the pilot informs us that we will be landing shortly.

* * *

Drew and I stroll down the small main street, our hands linked and swinging together, and the sun overhead. How many nights did I lay in bed on a trip here and wish for this exact thing? How many things had I mentally bartered for this to happen? Not only for Drew Bowman to notice me as more than Bratty Brex, but for him to hold my hand for everyone to see?

It’s funny how life changes and even funnier how when it does, some of those simple things still feel so very important.

Like this.

Like right now.

“What is it you remember most about this place?” Drew asks.

“So many things but that ice cream place, the one with the huge cones—”

“The ones that we’d see who could finish first but then be plagued by the worst stomachache ever?”

“Yep.” I nod.

“Your mom loved that place.”

“She did.” I smile, loving that he remembers. “Laughter. There was so much laughter all the time is what I think of when I remember our trips. That and getting up in the morning, running down to the dock and jumping in the water, because the last one in was a rotten egg.”

He nods, his smile growing.

“Fireworks on the Fourth of July. Days spent swimming and nights spent in front of the campfire,” I say.

“It was the best, wasn’t it?”

“It was.” I look over at him, but his eyes are hidden behind his sunglasses. “More than anything, I remember not ever having to worry about anything. Being a kid. Being carefree. And only thinking about what trouble we were going to get into the next day.”