Aislinn wasn't wrong about this mansion after all.

Jake and I stroll down the long hallway towards the west wing of the grand building. Side by side, arms outstretched, we trace our fingers along the carefully curated walls. Underneath a thick film of dust, floral wallpaper lines the upper walls, whilst the bottom half continues with the wood-stained wainscotting.

With each passing door, we pause, peering into rooms. We make a game of guessing what each room could have been. Some are easier to determine than others, with furniture remaining, while others lay bare.

Aislinn's intuition proves sharper than we'd imagined. The mansion, despite its forgotten facade, harbours a wealth of history that begs to be unearthed.

"Imagine the stories these walls could tell," Jake muses, his eyes scanning the grandeur of the hall.

"I bet there were grand parties, filled with laughter and music," I reply, my gaze lingering on the remnants of a once-elaborate chandelier.

As we reach the end of the hallway, a set of grand double doors stands tall and imposing. The heavy handles yield reluctantly to our touch, groaning awake after a lifetime of rest.

Beyond the doors, a vast ballroom unfolds, frozen in time. Dust particles float in the air like memories, catching the soft glow of our flashlights. The grandeur of the space strikes us into silence. A chandelier, draped in cobwebs, hangs from the centre of the ornate ceiling. The room echoes with a haunting stillness as we speak.

"Wow," Jake mutters in awe. Exchanging glances, we both realise that this discovery is more significant than any other room we've encountered.

The dance floor stretches expansively, the polished wood marred only by the passing of time. Faded tapestries cover the walls. I envision them being admired at lavish events, maybe as a conversation starter. As we venture further, the distant strains of a long-forgotten melody seem to resonate through the vast chamber.

Without a word, I hum the tune, recognizing it as a melancholic waltz. The sound vibrates through the emptiness, and Jake, catching on, joins in with a soft hum. The atmosphere shifts, as if the room itself embraces the music, filling the void with a strange energy.

As we twirl and sway, the mansion comes alive. It's almost as if the dance communes us with the spirits of those who once graced this ballroom. And for a moment, it feels like time itself witnesses our dance.

As we dance, Jake and I share an unspoken understanding. Our connection deepens with each step. The mystery of the mansion intertwines with the mystery of us, and as the last notes of the waltz fade into the shadows, we stand in the ballroom, breathless yet connected, transcending the layers of dust and decay that surround us.

"Imagine how wonderful it would have been to live here," I whisper, my eyes sweeping over the faded grandeur.

Jake grins, his eyes sparkling. "I can picture it. Ballroom filled with people, music floating in the air. And you, the belle of the ball, dancing under the chandelier."

I laugh. "And you, the dashing gentleman, sweeping me off my feet."

"Well, why not continue the fantasy?" Jake asks, extending his hand. "May I have this dance, my lady?"

I chuckle, placing my hand on his. "Certainly, kind sir."

As we waltz across the ballroom floor, creating a memory that, perhaps, the mansion itself will carry on in its silent walls. My heart flutters with each sweep across the floor, bathing in Jake's touch that sends electricity running through my body. As we dance, we laugh, and I catch him looking at me occasionally. I'm unsure whether he's caught me doing the same. Yet each time our eyes meet, there's a burning within me, and I wonder if he reads my mind. Oh, if only he could read my mind.

As we reach the centre of the ballroom, where the chandelier hangs, Jake's gaze meets mine. The air crackles as he holds my gaze much longer than any that came before it.

He pauses for a moment, his eyes searching mine for something, maybe an unspoken permission. I feel a flutter in my chest as my pulse quickens in anticipation, and without breaking eye contact, Jake leans in, his lips brushing against mine in a gentle, lingering kiss.

The kiss is a revelation. An unrivalled connection.

As we pull away, the silence breeds a depth of emotion that words can never capture. The dust in the air settles, as if the mansion and its inhabitants approve of our communion.

"Wow," Jake whispers, a soft smile playing on his lips.

I smile too, the weight of the past lifting replaced by a sense of lightness. "Wow, indeed."

We continue to waltz, our feet gliding gracefully across the polished dance floor. The ballroom, once a relic frozen in time, now witness to a new chapter unfolding between Jake and me.

In the grand foyer, Jake and I scan the room for any signs of the others, but there's no sign that they've come back yet. As our gazes meet, we silently agree that the adventure is far from over. With a nod, we decide to explore the east wing, hoping to find Maggie and Ellie. The air feels fresher as we walk down the dim corridor. We peer into rooms, chatting and guessing as we continue our game.

Our journey leads to a room with a partly open door. A warm glow spills into the hallway, tempting us to enter. We step into a large kitchen frozen in time. Dust particles dance in sunlight streaming through cracked windowpanes.

The kitchen is a treasure trove of relics. Under the dust, old cutlery gleams in the drawers. The plates, gilded in gold leaf, endure.

Jake picks up an antique fork, examining it with a smirk. "Think we could use this for a dinner date this weekend?"

I chuckle, playing along. "Depends on what you have in mind, I suppose."

He gazes around the kitchen, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "I hear vintage is in fashion. The Bluebird takes your fancy, m'lady?"

His antics are charming, drawn to the way he embraces the playful banter. A warmth settles in my chest. I admire the way he navigates the forgotten corners of the kitchen. I realise I've zoned out, standing here watching him move about. Admiring his flexing arm muscles and cute butt as he bends.

Jake's gaze locks onto mine, catching me in the act. "Audrey," he says, being more serious now. "Would you do me the honour of joining me for a proper date this weekend? No dusty cutlery, I promise."

His request catches me off guard. The warmth in his eyes mirrors the flutter in my chest, and a genuine smile graces my lips as I reply. "I thought you'd never ask. I'd love to."

We leave the kitchen, continuing down the hallway to discover an old bathroom. A claw-foot bathtub stands against the far wall, evidence of a time when people embraced luxury, even in the simplest of spaces. A weathered sink and a mirror stand adjacent, and a painting of Lake Eldritch hangs on the wall-a piece of art that seems to have weathered the years with grace. The bathroom, like the rest of the mansion, is a canvas of memories waiting to be loved again, into existence. Nostalgia makes me wonder about the stories these walls might tell, if only they could.

Jake breaks the quiet moment. "What do you say we keep exploring? Maybe we'll find more hidden gems."

I nod. Together, we step back into the corridor. The decision to explore the upper floors continues our adventure as we ascend the staircase. The first floor has an array of bedrooms and another bathroom, offering glimpses into the lives that once lived here. We pause briefly in the sitting area, where a balcony overlooks the overgrown garden. This room is probably the one mentions in Aislinn's story. It's exactly as she describes. The evidence further confirms her story as truth, if only in my mind.

Venturing higher, the second floor unfolds with larger bedrooms, each one grander than those below. The main bedroom captures our attention. Its sheer size is a testament to the grandeur of the home. The lavish décor, a stark contrast to the lower floors.

An ornate bedhead frames the bed, standing as the centrepiece of the room. It's opulence and comfort, speak of luxury. Against one wall, a large oil painting commands attention. It depicts a serene landscape with roses in the foreground, their vibrant colours contrasting against the calm lake stretching into the distance. The attention to detail in the painting captivates us, showing the artist's love for the scenery. It captures the garden, well cared for, and in full bloom.

"Can you imagine sleeping in a room like this every night?" Jake says.

I glance around, taking in the decadence. "It's like stepping into another world." Pausing for a moment, before continuing. "I'd feel like a princess in this bedroom. One can dream, right?"

Jake smiles flirtatiously. "You can be my princess." I know his words are flirty, yet somehow, he also means them. Maybe this little dating dance means a lot more to Jake than I'd first thought.

We share a moment of appreciation for the room, but soon practicality nudges us, time pressing on as daylight dwindles. "We should take photos, document everything. Olivia might want to buy and renovate this place as part of her enormous project," I say.

Jake speaks up. "But, you know, it would be a shame if it fell into the hands of some big corporation. Lakeview Hollow deserves to keep its secrets. Don't you think?"

"I get that," I reply, considering his words. "But I also want to share this discovery with Olivia. She's my best friend, and I think she would appreciate the history and charm of this place."

He smiles, subtly agreeing with me. "Let's take the photos, then. We can decide what to do later."

My suspicion is that he doesn't want to upset me, and maybe the place will come undone by Olivia's company if they get their hands on it. But they might also put in the substantial funds it deserves to restore this place to its original beauty, too. It'd be really nice to see it come back to life again, to experience the home in its full grandeur. But I don't want to argue with Jake today, or ever.

Being assertive has never really been something I'm good at- in fact, my ex loved that about me. He gave the orders, and I followed suit, without so much as a word against him. I feel the resentment and anger bubble inside me and force myself to shift it out of my thoughts, and back to Jake. And this moment in this house.

As we document the room, capturing its grandeur on my phone, I feel a sense of responsibility toward this hidden gem. The mansion, with its secrets and stories, deserves to be remembered.

We retrace our steps through the hallways, photographing each room and corridor, preserving the mansion's legacy in pixels. The adventure takes on a new meaning, a blend of discovery and preservation.

Returning to the foyer, we find Maggie, Ellie, Ben, and Aislinn eagerly awaiting our return. We note down the coordinates of the mansion to ensure that we can find this hidden treasure again, confirming the success of our venture.

As the sun begins its descent, we conclude our adventure. We laugh and share stories during the hike back to the car park.

The walk back is much quicker than the hike to the mansion. Gathering around our vehicles, we say our farewells. The mansion, now a memory etched in our minds.

Aislinn's eyes sparkle with satisfaction. "We've uncovered a piece of Lakeview Hollow's history today."

Maggie nods, her enthusiasm contagious. "And we'll come back, armed with our stories and maybe a plan to breathe new life into that mansion."

Ellie grins, her camera in hand. "I've got photos to print, too. This was an adventure for the books. Thanks so much for asking us to tag along."

Ben, always the pragmatic one, chimes in. "Let's keep this place our little secret, at least for a while."

Aislinn adds, "And until then, the mansion will keep its mysteries."

As Maggie departs with Ben and Ellie, giving them a lift home, Jake ushers Aislinn and me into his truck. He buckles his seatbelt firmly before turning the key, and I place a gentle hand on his thigh.

"Thank you for today. Thank you for everything, Jake. You're one amazing guy."

"Ditto," Aislinn chimes in from the back seat.

I pivot towards Aislinn, grinning mischievously. Without missing a beat, she responds with a sly wink, a playful confirmation that mischief is afoot.