Page 73 of Playing for Keeps
I snorted. “You couldn’t be a grown-up even if you tried.”
The house had only two bedrooms, which was why Ethan and I had so often ended up in a tent in the backyard.
We trekked back to the car and grabbed our stuff, then pulled some linen from the hall cupboard to make up the beds. I put sheets on one of the single beds in the smaller bedroom, then went to find Ethan.
“This is when you should be grateful we’re not sleeping in a tent,” I said, standing at the doorway of the master bedroom.
Ethan looked up from where he was putting on the pillowcase, meeting my gaze. “I don’t know, I kind of liked that tent.”
Emotion pulsed between us.
I broke the eye contact. “You want to go for a walk? Stretch our legs?”
“Great idea. Let’s climb Mt. Iron.” He threw the pillow down on the bed.
I checked my phone for the time. We still had around an hour before sunset. I grabbed a headlamp out of the drawer in case we didn’t make it back in time.
Being professional athletes, we soon went from walking to jogging, which quickly became proper running as we pushed each other on.
Mt. Iron was a popular walking trail for both locals and tourists, but right now, nearing sunset in the middle of winter, only a few other runners were making their way down.
The track was well graded, but still the ground was uneven at points and there had been rain recently, so parts were slippery underfoot.
“You realize if we break a leg climbing this, Coach will break our other leg,” Ethan huffed.
He had a point. I didn’t want to imagine Coach’s face if either of us injured ourselves a week before the semi-final.
But I needed to run, to pound on the path, to try to get rid of some of the tension inside me.
Our breaths made puffs of mist in the cold air.
Unfortunately, no matter how fast I ran, I couldn’t escape my thoughts.
Coach had talked about me not taking risks on the field. If I ever needed an example of when I’d been too risk-averse, it was the last time I’d been up here with Ethan. The summer after high school when I’d chickened out of telling my best friend how I really felt about him.
I put on an extra burst of speed at the last steep bit before the summit, my leg muscles screeching as my chest heaved. I reached the bench seat and collapsed down on it.
About half a minute later, Ethan threw himself on the bench next to me.
For a few moments we just stared out at the view as we regained our breath.
Last time we’d been up here had been at sunrise in summer. Now it was almost sunset in winter. The town was sprawled out directly below, dwarfed by the scale of the lake and the mountains behind.
Ethan finally turned to me, his cheeks flushed with color. “Remember the last time we climbed this?”
It was as if he could read my mind. My heart pounded.
“Yeah, I remember.” My voice came out hoarse.
Fuck, I’d wanted to kiss him so badly then. The sad thing was I wanted it even more now.
Six years ago, I’d been so scared to kiss him. Scared of failure, of Ethan turning me down, of messing up our friendship. Scared to take the risk.
But now I knew the price of not telling the truth.
The words burned in my throat. I couldn’t survive another heartbeat without saying them. So I forced myself to look him in the eye. “I almost kissed you then.”
Ethan’s throat worked while I held my breath. “I wish you had,” he said finally, quietly.
