For some reason, that answer makes something flip in my stomach, because I’m sure it’s not the first thing she thought when she saw it. Very few girls from school have seen me working, but I know from experience that they seem to like seeing me in the uniform.
Finally, two days before Thanksgiving break, I ask her the big question, hands trembling as I do.
Jake:Hey, still up for hanging out before the state fair?
She texts back immediately.
Lara:Of course.
My headlights wash upand over the driveway and lawn of the Novak house. It’s a beautiful construction, large and Victorian, with eclectic landscaping full of vines and interesting shrubs.
I want to get out of the car, go to the door. Sitting here and waiting for her makes me feel like a jerk, but she specifically asked me not to come up, so I won’t.
When she finally grabs the handle and pulls the truck door open, her cheeks are flushed, and she brings with her a warm vanilla and cinnamon scent that makes my mouth water. Is that what her house smells like on the inside?
“Hey,” she says, voice soft and low, like she’s stepped into a library and doesn’t want to disturb the silence.
“Hey,” I pass her my phone, which is plugged into the car with one of those radio adapter things, “you can control the music.”
A laugh bursts out of her. “Way to put me on the spot.”
Lara puts on what she tells me is her autumn playlist, and we listen to soft, crooning voices quietly for a few minutes before she clears her throat and glances over at me.
“I probably should have asked what we’re doing tonight.”
I glance back at her. I’d told her to dress warm, and she is - wearing a wool skirt and thick tights, a sweater, and a coat zipped up over the top. We’ve had an unseasonably warmautumn so far, but Minnesota nights can be brutal this time of year.
In the back seat, I have my own provisions — blankets, hand warmers, and a portable gas fireplace. Hopefully it’s enough that this isn’t totally miserable.
It would be way more fun to bring her where we’re going in the summer, when we could strip down to our suits and jump in. The thought of her in a swimsuit makes my stomach flip, and I swallow it down, tightening my hands on the wheel.
“Can I keep it a surprise until we get there?” I ask, hoping I don’t sound as nervous as I feel.
“Sure,” she says, shifting in a way that makes me think she’s making herself comfortable in the passenger seat. For some reason, that makes me feel warm inside. Lara getting comfortable in my truck, sharing my space with me.
Just like before, the conversation comes easily. Lara talks about how tough the American Lit teacher has been on grading our papers. On our first draft, I got a C plus, and she got an A minus. We talk about the English teacher’s new haircut and how we’re pretty sure the math teacher must be going through a divorce.
Lara tells me about how she and Zachery are planning a trip to Minneapolis to go to a Christmas market, and for a moment, it sounds like she might invite me to come along, before she remembers that our arrangement is an unspoken secret.
“That’s all right,” I say, waving my hand. “Practice will ramp up a lot over Christmas break.”
“I want to come to one of your games,” Lara says, and the way my heart starts to flutter makes me feel silly, lightheaded, full of air.
“Really?” I ask, glancing over at her as my car climbs through the forest, headlights illuminating the trees around me. “Zachery won’t think it’s weird?”
“He loves going to sports things,” Lara says, chuckling, “just to look at the athletes.”
That makes me laugh, and we pull into the spot I had in mind when I thought about bringing her up here — just off the trail that leads to the waterfall, with a clear view of it, but far enough away that we aren’t sprayed with freezing water. I back in, so the bed of my truck is facing the water.
“Wow,” Lara says when we get out of the truck. I gather our supplies up into my hands — camping mat, blankets, hand warmers, a thermos of hot chocolate. “That’s beautiful.”
“Have you been here before?” My words come out muffled through my scarf, and for some reason, I really want the answer to be no.
“No,” Lara says, some awe still in her voice above the slight tremor of a shiver. “I didn’t know there was a waterfall like this close to Wildfern Ridge.”
“Second largest in Minnesota,” I say, trying not to think about the fact that it was my dad who first brought me here when I was a kid, telling me that my mom had loved this place.
“What’s the largest?”
