Page 49 of Only Some Stars Fall

Everly’s cheeks immediately flush. After everything we’ve been through this summer, the idea that we are bashful with one another seems foolish. Yet right now, all we are is two people standing on a porch with hearts on our sleeves, and it’s downright daunting.

I shake away the haze and look down at her sandals. Finding my snarky attitude once again, I say, “Yeah, so you’re going to want to switch those out for hiking boots.” I laugh.

She looks down and wiggles her painted toes before throwing her head back. “Ugh, not again.”

“This is northern Maine; I don’t know what you were expecting, princess. There are no five-star hot spots here. Go grab your boots and meet me in the truck.” I smirk as she very cutely stomps back into the house to change.

After fifteen mileson a bumpy logging road, a quick stop to munch some wild blueberries, and me pretending to see a bear, causing Everly to scream so loudly I thought a wardenmight come looking for us, we arrive atop the secluded mountain. When she sees the fire tower at the summit, her eyes grow wide, and I know I’ve picked a good first date location.

“I think you owe me a thank you.”

Taking her eyes off the ten flights of metal grate stairs, she looks at me suspiciously. “For what?”

“Well, I must say I’ve been an excellent tour guide this summer, don’t you think? Got you up not one, but two mountains, and explored lots of territory…” My eyes roam down her body. “Think about all the experiences I’ve given you.” My cockiness successfully breaks the unnatural and awkward politeness that has occupied our airspace since I picked her up.

She shakes her head, causing the braid to swing back and forth. A few strands of her hair have come loose, slick with sweat; they frame her flushed face. The hike is short but rather steep.

“You ready?” I start toward the stairs.

“Wait, what? We aren’t going up there!” Fear plasters her face as she gazes up at the old tower again.

“Um, of course we are. The view from the top is incredible, and I packed us with another one of my famous picnics.” I overdramatically bulge my eyes at her.

I watch as she takes in the rusty metal structure. The wonder she expressed when we first arrived has now turned to horror. The tower was used by the Maine Forest Service to spot fires until the late 1960’s. We passed the small, abandoned warden’s cabin a few hundred yards back on our way up, where the warden would sleep between multiple journeys up the tower.

Back when I was a kid, the inactive tower was repaired, with the rusty old vertical ladder replaced with open grate stairs and a fenced-in platform built at the top, half of it enclosed similar tothe structure that used to be there, the other half entirely open to the elements.

Though completely safe, the metal-grate semi-open stairs are still nerve-racking for the average person who hasn’t been chasing friends up them for most of their life.

“I have been scared of heights my whole life, so there is no way you’re getting me up that suicide tower.”

I wince at the word, reminding me that I didn’t just bring her here for dinner and stargazing. It’s time I talk about Storm and Julia. She deserves to know.

“Do you trust me?”

“Ugh, really, we are going to do this?” She chews on her bottom lip, studying the tower again. Finally, letting out a big sigh, she meets my gaze and nods.

“Here, we will go up exactly how my dad got me up the first time. You go first, and I will stay closely behind you. Keep your eyes forward and try not to look down or up. One stair at a time.”

Slow but steady, we start up the tower. Sliding her hands up the handrails first, then a step up, deep breath, repeat. By the time we get to the tree line, her knuckles are white, and she’s shaking like a leaf.

I lower my mouth to her ear. “It’s okay. Close your eyes, lean back into me, and breathe.” She complies, and I can feel her heart pounding as she presses her back into my chest.

We stay like this for a long time, letting the mountain air soak into our lungs and listening to the slight sway of the trees, the birds overhead, and the low droning engine of a floatplane in the distance.

“Okay, I’m ready.”

“You can do this, we are almost there.” I lightly kiss the side of her head, the scent of her hair sending a wave of electricity through my body as it stimulates my most powerful memories.

Her boots finally reach the wooden platform, and I hear her gasp. She turns slowly and takes in the massive three-hundred-degree view laid out before us. I’ve always loved watching people experience this spectacle for the first time. There is nothing like it; no picture can fully capture it, and no words can fully describe it.

“Woah,” she whispers, more to herself than to me as I lay out the blanket, bottle of wine, and the dinner I packed. Feeling extra cheesy, I brought some battery-operated tea lights and a small lantern.

The sun has sunk low in the early evening sky, and I am hopeful for one of Silsby’s killer sunsets. There isn’t a cloud above, so my plan for some extraordinary stargazing is still in effect.

“Are you hungry?”

She turns to look at my layout, her eyes still bright and wide from taking in the scenery. “Look at this spread, I’m impressed. Who is responsible for this?”

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