Emyln

The guys are just a bunch of flirts and drunks – minus the bachelor himself; he seems like a decent guy. For the next six hours of mountain biking up various types of terrain, I can feel eyes on my ass. Maybe Hainsey had a point about me not coming on this trip.

But I shake that off. Screw him being right. I can handle a little bit of flirting. What I can't handle is that they're constantly trying to talk to me and taking up all this bonding time I have with Hainsey. I'm supposed to be at the front, leading the way and discussing an interest or something we share with him, but I'm not. Instead, I'm stuck in the middle listening to how much the jackass to my left can bench press.

I roll my eyes. Every word that comes out of this guy's mouth is a cry for help. He's twenty-seven and still single, a workout junkie, watches football, and loves the taste of cold beer on a hot summer day. And you know what? I don't give a shit about him or what is better: Corona or Budweiser.

"Well," I say through gritted teeth once Scout is finished talking. Okay – his name isn't actually "Scout," but he just reminds me of one of those kids that signs up for Boy Scouts. "I'm not sorry to say that I happen to prefer tequila. So, what I'm saying is, I don't give a shit about beer, okay?"

Probably not the best thing to say when I'm supposed to be acting as a friendly tour guide for my mother's business, but my patience is wearing as thin as a layer of plastic wrap.

Taking his moment of stunned silence as my chance, I pedal hard and wind my way through the group to where Hainsey and the bachelor are chatting up a storm about hockey, my legs screaming in protest. I don't butt into the conversation right away – I eavesdrop. It turns out the bachelor – Ethan – is from Calgary and a big fan of the Flames. I snort at his choice.

Both guys eye me, eyebrows cocked.

"Got something to say, Ems?" Hainsey asks.

I squint at him. Is that a note of playfulness I'm detecting in his voice? I hope so. "Yeah," I nod, looking at Ethan. "The Flames? Really?" I look back at Hainsey. "How can you even have a conversation with him? We're Canucks fans. Red doesn't blend with blue."

Hainsey shrugs. "We're purple – we're having a friendly rivalry."

Ethan laughs, and then asks me, "So you're a hockey girl?"

"That's right," I nod. While I would prefer it if it were just Hains and I, I actually sort of like this Ethan guy. He's acting as a buffer. "Vancouver Canucks all the way."

The bachelor tsks and shakes his head, a bead of sweat dripping down his temple. "We can agree to disagree. Like your boyfriend said, we're purple. So who's your favourite player?"

I flinch, waiting for Hainsey to come back and say that we're nothing. I know I don't deserve him in any way, but every time he rejects me it tends to hurt. But the moment never comes.

"My girl has always had a thing for Ben Hutton," Hainsey says. "She's always been a fan of smiles."

I almost fall off my mountain bike and go tumbling down the incline that's thick with pine trees. My girl? I can't stop myself from gaping at Hainsey. Our eyes meet, and all he does is shrug and then subtly jerk his head back to Scout. With that, everything clicks into place. Hains was totally listening in on my conversation with him and could clearly tell how annoyed I was. Normally I'd be pissed off at a guy for claiming me like he's done, yet I'm so happy I could start squealing.

Thank you, I mouth.

He shrugs again.

The conversation about hockey continues on for the next forty-five minutes, and by the time we're at the lake Hains and I have gotten a big lesson on why the Flames are better than the Canucks. Which, is not true, obviously because the Flames just suck. Period.

As the boys head down to the lake and cabins that are spotted through some pine trees and other alpine plants, I take in the view. It's stunning up here – everything, from the alpine air to the colour of the lake to the mountains surrounding me is beautiful. Part of my heart begins to hurt. Although I despise my mother and her new husband, I know I've missed Whistler. It just has the type of scenery that's unlike any other place in the world.

Sighing because I know I can stay here forever and stare, I begin the small descent down to the lake, cabins, and small diner-thing. I also know that it's time to set my plan into action. When I made the reservations for the cabin, I made sure that Hains and I got a separate one on the first night here. The second night, however, is a different story. Little does he know that someone else is going to be staying in his cabin that night; that I didn't book it. He'll have no choice but to come and stay with me.

In the back of my mind, I swear I hear myself cackle like some evil witch stirring a pot of bubbling brew.

Maybe my plan is a little evil, forcing him to come and stay. It's just...I know we need to talk out what's happened even though neither of us wants to. And what better place to do it than here? No family members that fucked up our lives, and no friends. It'll just be us and the stars.

As soon as I have my bike leaning up against the log siding of the small cabin I'm staying in, I throw my backpack through the front door, not caring where it lands, and head for Hainsey's cabin.

He's left the door open, so I lean up against the doorframe and watch as he takes in the cabin for everything it is. The cabins are typical but very clean and fair-sized.

"It's a good thing they supply the bedding and shit, right?" I ask.

Hains spins around and looks at me. I want to laugh because this is one of the rare times I've caught him off guard, but I don't because he starts speaking: "Yeah. I don't think I'd have made it up here if we had to haul that stuff up here." He stretches out his back. "Man, I'm sore from that ride. The terrain was rough."

"Tell me about it," I say, cringing at the thought of how badly my hamstrings are going to hurt tomorrow morning. "You never realize how much work it really is until you've finished the climb."

He nods once before we both succumb to the silence. I purse my lips and nod. Okaaay....What do I say now? Shit. If I'd known this was going to be awkward, I'd have brought a game like Cards Against Humanity to start a conversation or break the ice. I exhale through my nose.

"So, um..." I say, "thanks for making Scout think I'm taken. God. Two hours of listening to him talk and brag about how awesome he is and how he can pick up chicks in any country he visits were enough to make me want to throw myself over the edge."

Hains chuckles. "While it was funny watching you secretly burn him with everything you said, I knew you were ready to snap."

"Seriously. Thank you. Maybe on the way down, we could bike together?"

He studies me, rubbing the stubble on his jaw while he ponders my words.

Eventually, he nods. "Yeah. Sure. I love hockey, but I don't know if I can listen to another word about the Flames. Rivalries are fun and all, don't get me wrong. He just kept trying to convince me to turn to that team. It was like talking to a lawyer."

I snort. "What have we gotten ourselves into?"

He shrugs and walks over to the small table his bag is resting upon. I watch as he pulls out a grey sweater that matches the colour of his eyes and pulls it on. "Well, we better start heading down to the lake – it's almost time for dinner. And I don't know about you, but I'm famished."

"Yeah, okay," I nod, stepping outside into the fresh air. I take a deep breath. Damn, I've missed this. I glance over my shoulder just in time to see him stepping out of the cabin.

When the door is closed and the key is tucked in his pocket, I say, "So do we have to sit with them? Or do we sit on our own? Because I'd rather not deal with a bunch of drunken fools the whole time."

Hains frowns and rubs his neck. "You know what? Your mom never said, so why don't we sit as far away from them as possible? We're really only on the job when the mountain bikes are involved."

"True," I say, trying to prevent him from hearing the eagerness in my voice. Adrenaline is pumping through my veins – Hains wants to have dinner with me! He's not denying my idea. Does that count as progress? My heart leaps up to my throat. I wonder if my presence is starting to wear him down and make him realize that we have a shot at something good.

As we head for the small building by the lake, I eye him carefully. His face is neutral, as usual. I think back to what he said about me loving people that smile. It was true. Hains and I always used to smile – we were happy kids. His smile was that one small thing that was capable of making a bad day turn into a good one. Damn, do I ever miss seeing him smile.

I suddenly have the urge to reach out to him, comfort him in ways I should have engaged in years ago. I miss what we used to be. How we used to act. I wish we could hop into a time machine and find our younger selves and tell them to run before it's too late. I wonder where our younger selves would try to go? Would we try to be like the Boxcar Children or would we be rational and skip a couple provinces? Maybe find a hidden town in the middle of Saskatchewan?

I shake my head. I'm being irrational with all this pointless daydreaming.

As much as I want to comfort my best friend and the only man I will ever love, I stuff my hands into my pockets and avert my gaze from him.

Dealing with all these emotions and Hains is like walking onto the ice of a frozen pond you've just discovered – you don't know where to place your feet to avoid the dangerous spots, and if you're not careful, you might just fall through.