Brenna

Shea slings the duffle bag over his shoulder. It's full of skates, extra touques and gloves, a thermos of hot chocolate, and our sandwiches we ordered from Subway. I adjust the strap of my snowshoes, making sure they're tight. Then I grab the other bag. Aside from our phones and the Bluetooth speaker, it's empty. It's acting as an extra bag for wet gloves or socks, depending on how our descent to Rose Valley Reservoir is.

Right now, we're at the top of West Kelowna Road, near the water tower. From here, you can access the boundaries of Rose Valley Regional Park. In the spring and fall, it's one of my favourite places to hike.

What Shea and I are doing is new to me. While I have skated on the reservoir before, I've never snowshoed down to it before. Hunter's dad took us here a lot when we were kids. Back then, we would enter the park from the lower area, closer to the newer elementary school. The trail was more a road than a trail. There were no rocks jutting out, and the incline wasn't steep. Perfect for little kids.

This'll be a lot of fun. If my snowshoe doesn't slip off.

"Ready?" Shea asks.

I ignore my grumbling stomach and nod. Despite spending lunch with my friends, I have eaten nothing since breakfast. And that was a piece of toast with peanut butter. Lately, I've been consuming way too many calories and not attending the gym enough. That's understandable since the Holidays just passed. But it's not an excuse. I should work to maintain my level of fitness. Before I know it, playoffs will be here. And we need to win.

Shea and I head up the incline. This is the only incline we'll face until we decide to leave. Actually getting to the reservoir via the trail is all downhill.

Since the trail up the hill is skinny, I'm behind Shea. My breath comes out in puffy white clouds while the cold air stings my cheeks. Reaching up, I adjust my touque, pulling to lower to keep my ears warm. My hair is down, hanging just past my shoulders. My scarf hides some of it.

My eyes survey the area as we hike. Snow covers everything. The clouds are low today, hugging the peaks of the surrounding mountains. In some areas, the clouds obscure the tips of mighty pine trees. Something tells me it'll start snowing soon. The temperature is below negative ten and the air smells crisp. Hunter thinks I'm crazy, but there's always a smell to the air just before it snows. Especially when campfire smoke lingers in the air.

Like it does now.

Although winter isn't my favourite season, I respect it. One reason I love the Okanagan is because we get to experience every season. I couldn't imagine a January without snow.

After I've finished admiring nature, I look ahead. Shea is a metre or two ahead. I've been giving him room in case he slips. Snowshoes tangle with anything. I don't want ours to tangle. Otherwise, we'll both fall.

As I stare ahead, watching Shea climb the hill, my eyes fall to his black joggers. They're tight, showing off the sculpt of his thighs and ass. Those squats have paid off. Why he likes them, I'm not sure. But this would be a good reason. Hypnotize women with his ass and thighs. Goddamn, his ass is hot.

And you know what? I'm not embarrassed about thinking that. It's a fact, not some conspiracy theory.

For god knows what reason, Shea turns around. "Which trail do you want to—What are you doing?"

My cheeks flush pink as I direct my gaze elsewhere. "Nothing."

A grin splits Shea's face. "If you have something to say, then say it."

I almost choke. No way in hell am I telling Shea his ass is hot. His ego will thrive, just like KJ said earlier.

"Come on, Harrison. Don't keep secrets."

His response to my silence is simple. Shea turns around and closes the space between us. The grin on his face makes me cringe. He won't let until I say something.

He rests a hand on my shoulder. That fucking cute, shit-eating grin doesn't fade. It makes me weak in the knees. "Bren. Don't leave me hanging."

I duck my head. I hate it when he calls me that.

Even though I love it.

Hearing him say my nickname does things to my stomach. It becomes full of jittery butterflies. My chest gets warm.

Gah. Why does he have to make my knees weak?

"Those pants look good on you," I say, keeping my voice airy. Shea doesn't need to know my inappropriate thoughts. I'm sure he's assuming what's running through my head.

His grin broadens, and he loops his arm around my shoulders, tugging me close so he can press a kiss to my temple.

Every cell in my body feels caffeinated. Jittery. I'm glad we decided to skip class. We needed to get outside and enjoy nature. The timing is perfect, too. No one will be outside at this time, as it's mainly teenagers who skate on the lake. Everyone's still in school. Except Shea and I. Being here with Shea... it's amazing.

Until he whispers, "We both know it's just my ass."

My mouth drops open, and I shove him away. "Cocky asshole! That is not what I was thinking."

The lies leaving my mouth are represented by the blush spreading across my cheeks.

He raises his eyebrows. His expression is somewhat arrogant, but I can detect the underlying aspects of humour. He's biting the inside of his cheek to prevent himself from laughing. A muscle in his cheek twitches.

"Nothing wrong with admiring someone's ass, Harrison," he drawls. He adjusts the duffel bag slung across his shoulder. Then he winks at me. "At least I know all my squats have paid off. Your validation is highly appreciated."

Then he ends his sentence with a fucking shrug.

All he receives as a response is an exaggerated eye roll. "Some things ever change."

Again, he adjusts the duffle bag. Jerks his head in the direction of the trail. "Let's get going. We're losing daylight."

My face turns skeptical as I glance at the sky. It's a mix of sun and cloud today, but the mountains are obscured by low-hanging clouds, promising snow later. But the sky is bright because...

"It's ten o'clock in the morning," I frown. "We're not losing daylight."

Shea glances at the sky, squinting against the bright light. His touque hangs low. "On the contrary, every second that passes pushes us closer to sunset, Bren."

He turns around and starts hiking up the trail before I can respond. Snow crunches beneath his snowshoes, echoing through the quietness of the forest.

With Shea's back turned to me, he "Smart ass," I mutter.

The incline is steep, and trudging through the snow with snowshoes on while carrying a bag is tiring. Halfway, up, I have to stop and catch my breath. So does Shea. For several minutes, our strained breathing fills the air. We also pass a thermos back and forth, taking a couple sips of the warm water. It helps unthaw my cold body.

After Shea slips the thermos back in his bag, he turns around to face me. His cheeks are already pink from the cold weather. He holds up one gloved finger. "For the record, your squats have paid off, too."

"Checking out my ass, Smith?" I drawl.

He winks. "Just like you were checking out mine."

Shea leaves me behind with my cheeks burning red.

* * *

Unlike the artificial ice in the area, this ice is uneven and rough. Natural. There's no artificial smell combined with the grease of cheap concession food and sweat. The air is crisp with pine and snow. It's a sweet, stark contrast to the familiar smell of the arena.

However, the advantages of smooth ice reign supreme in the arena. Here, Shea and I have to be more aware of where we're skating to avoid obstacles such as the large rock jutting out of the ice a few metres away from shore.

The rock that we're sitting on right now, enjoying hot chocolate and sandwiches. His shoulder is against mine, as is his thigh. Despite having hot chocolate, the cold is getting to me. Shea's body heat is helping a little.

As we eat in comfortable silence, I enjoy the view. We're in the middle of a valley-like area, surrounded by rounded mountains and grey sky. Snow-covered pine trees blanket the mountainsides, save for the small area that was part of a wildfire a few years ago. It looks like a bald spot on the mountainside.

It's nice to be outside as opposed to being locked in a classroom. Or discussing Connor's next move with the rest of our friends. Sitting outside with my boyfriend is where I need to be. Relaxing.

Yet, there's one question that's been sitting on my tongue since we arrived.

Setting my sandwich down on my lap, I turn to face Shea. His cheeks are pink, as is the tip of his nose, and his touque hangs low, almost covering his eyebrows. Through the layers of clothes, I can see he's shivering, too. It makes me chuckle. Neither of us, while we did prepare for skating outside, took the wind into account. Throwing on another sweater and an extra pair of socks would've been nice.

As discreetly as I can, I shuffle closer to Shea. My pants make a scratching noise against the rough surface. If Shea notices the closer proximity, he doesn't say anything.

"Do you regret taking the bet?" I ask.

Shea takes a bite of his sandwich and chews thoughtfully. He stares out in front of him, as the frozen lake and the snow-covered forest and mountainside beyond. I watch his jaw work, tightening my scarf. There's a sharp breeze coming from the west. The same breeze that's bringing the snow with it. We'll have to leave within the next hour if we're to miss the upcoming snowstorm they're calling for.

After swallowing his food, Shea takes a sip of his hot chocolate and clears his throat. "Yes and no. Obviously it was wrong of me to involve you in the bet without your permission. I still regret that. I'm so sorry, Bren. On the other hand, Connor's plan backfired. Unintentionally, he brought us closer. Now we're trying to fuck him over. It's easier to like someone than to hate them. Y'know, unless it's Connor. I think we're the real winners of this game."

"But it has't ended yet."

Shea eyes me, cocking one eyebrow. "Why does a win have to be the end result?" He loops an arm around my shoulders, pulling me flush against him. He smells of cologne and the outdoors, with a hint of deodorant. With his free hand, he tips my chin up. When I look into his hazel eyes, they're soft and comforting, riddling with something I want to define as love. "Why can't we be winning right now?"

No words sit on my tongue. I'm unsure of what to say because that's just what Shea Smith does. While he can be arrogant and make me roll my eyes on a daily basis, he has the ability to wow you. To make you swoon and rethink your perception of him. Especially now, watching him try to become a better person. While I shouldn't feel proud—proper treatment of women should be normalized and expected—I can't help myself. Months ago, I was thinking nothing would change. That Shea and I would forever be locked under a rivalry caused by the opinion of a narcissistic father.

I'm glad I get to call him my friend. More than a friend.

His gaze flicks down to my lips, and I watch as his own part, ready to form a question.

"You can kiss me," I say.

Shea smiles, turning his head to the side for a brief moment, and then his lips are on mine.

The kiss is soft and explorative, and it tastes like his peppermint flavoured hot chocolate. It brings warmth back into my body. Any drama in reality falls to the wayside, too.

Right now, all that exists is me and Shea, and the delicate snowflakes kissing our flushed skin.