Aria

I'm never going to tell Leo, but I love that his dad has put a few restaurants on his bucket list. I'm a total foodie. And with the way training has been going, I know I'm entitled to eat whatever the hell I want. But what makes me even happier is that we're going to the usual taco truck Benn and I always go to. It's my favourite place in Whistler, and that very fact makes me feel a little closer to Leo because I have something in common with his dad. There are already several checkmarks beside the taco truck, representing the fact that Leon obviously went there multiple times while he was living here. If I had a bucket list, this place would be on there with just as many checkmarks, if not more.

Lacing my fingers with Leo's, I allow him to tug me down the trail. He's veered off of the main trail, guiding us to a trail that's much closer to the creek. It's a beautiful sight, and I'm puzzled as to why I've never seen this trail before, but I don't let my inner questions bother me too much. I've never really taken the time to explore this area. It's too close to work for my liking. Not that I hate my job or anything. It's just, by the end of the day, I'm always ready to go home either because I'm exhausted or just sick of people.

"Come on," Leo says, tugging me a little harder. "We're almost there."

I frown in puzzlement. The taco truck is next to some of the historic landmarks from the 2010 Olympics that were held here. Definitely not in the middle of the forest by the creek. I'm so confused by his words that I have to voice my question this time around. "Uh...Leo?"

"Yeah?" he asks, glancing over his shoulder and smiling down at me.

It's moments like these, when I can see the kid that's hidden inside him, that I have difficulty preventing myself from throwing my arms around his neck and kissing him to death. There's nothing more beautiful than when he comes out of his shell and shows who he really is. That curious, adventurous child at heart. The same type of person his father was according to Eliza, Kit, and Tenille's stories. I wonder if Leo knows just how much he reminds everyone of his dad.

I shake my head and look away to break the gawking I'm doing. "You do realize the taco truck is actually in The Village, right?"

"Of course I know that," he snorts. He glances up at the tall cedarwood trees surrounding us as he steps over a stump. It's an old stump, practically mulch after years of weathering, but it still juts out enough to count as an obstruction. I carefully step over it. "I'm taking you somewhere special. I figured it was time I show you where my parents used to hang out all the time when they were growing up." He pauses and makes eye contact with me once again. Streaks of warm, summer sunlight pattern his face. An equally as warm breeze ruffles his hair. His eyes flick over my shoulder. "Oh, and you see that stump?"

I look down. "I nearly tripped over it because you're practically dragging me down this trail, Leo. So, yes, I did see it," I tease.

His face turns serious. "Shit, Aria, I'm sorry. I didn't realize I was doing that."

"It's fine," I laugh, pushing his shoulder. "Don't worry about it. I'm agile. To be honest, I was just teasing you."

"Okay," he exhales.

"Continue on with your story," I say.

"Right," he nods. "So, this stump. When my parents were kids, they had gone on a walk-slash-bike ride and they ran into some other kids from school. They were sketchy, as my mom said, and they wanted my dad to give up his bike. So, my dad made a bet with them saying he could jump over this stump on his bike." He gently kicks the remnants of the stump. "I'm assuming it was a lot taller and wider back then. Anyway, Dad managed to make it over in perfect motion. And, when he did, he yelled at Mom to follow him. She ran and the two of them escaped the town bullies. However, about halfway down the trail." He gestures toward the slight bend in the trail and the remaining portion before it appears to connect with the bank of the creek. "Dad lost control and bit the dust. Aside from the couple of ribs he broke, he was okay. Mom made him lay in the bushes and dirt, though, until the paramedics arrived."

I tap my finger against my bottom lip. "That sounded very childish compared to how you usually speak."

He rubs the back of his neck. "After all that, that's what you got out of little spiel?"

I pull my bottom lip between my teeth and avert my gaze from his, focusing on the compact dirt beneath our feet and the minimal vegetation. Save for a few weeds, this trail is too overrun to have any bushes or small plants growing through it. It is, however, full of knotted roots and small-sized rocks. To be honest, I'm surprised that Leon was crazy enough to take that bet and partially succeed. I probably would have rammed right into the stump and gone flying over the handlebars. I know how to ride a bike...I'm just not very good at it. Never have been.

"No," I finally laugh. "What I got was that your dad was crazy and reckless. It doesn't surprise me that he wiped out, to be honest with you. He certainly didn't deserve it if the kids they ran into were known for their jerkish ways, though."

Leo smiles back at me. "Are you ready to see the special place now?"

I hold my hand out and he takes it, tugging me, softer this time, in the appropriate direction. Without hesitation, I follow him. As he leads me to whatever he wants to show me, I mull over what else in Whistler could possibly hold a connection between Leon and Eliza. It seems as though everywhere I look, I'm reminded of Leo's parents and, in turn, of Leo himself. It's going to be difficult when he leaves after the summer is over and I have to stay here in Whistler until training is complete. Our season doesn't start up until mid-October, meaning I'll be here alone and without him for just over a month. I know I'll be able to get through it. I'm just going to miss him so much when he leaves.

When we come to the edge of the creek bank, Leo leads me down a small but steep incline. The water of Fitzsimmons Creek is low during this time of year. Low, but a beautiful crystal blue. The majority of what we can see is perfectly smooth rocks, ranging from the size of a pebble to the size of a boulder. Debris, such as rogue twigs and old, decaying leaves, is also scattered across the area. But the one thing that stands out to me the most is the large rock with a perfectly flat top. The rock is surrounded by some flowering plant. It reminds me of a succulent. I will admit, though, that the yellow flowers that stem from the plant. I don't recall a succulent being able to flower, but then again, I'm not much of a plant person to begin with.

Plant aside, I love the feeling this place gives me. It's out in the open, but it feels somewhat private. Mysterious. I realize that anyone could see us from the opposing side of the creek if they were to step past the treeline, yet it doesn't bother me too much. It almost feels like we've evaporated into a different world. One where birds are chirping, the needles of the trees surrounding us are speaking to each other via the wind, and the creek is babbling like a brook, aimlessly winding its way around any obstacle.

"This place," I finally say, "is beautiful."

"I know," Leo smiles. He runs his hand over the rock. "Aria, I'd like to welcome you to Saint-Sangster rock. This is where my parents would spend the majority of their summers when they were kids." He gestures to the strange plant around the base of the rock. "They're the reason why this stonecrop plant is able to grow here. They actually picked it from the top of Whistler Mountain and planted it down here, thinking it wouldn't make it. But it did. They used to do everything here. They would have picnics here, sit and talk here. They basically did anything here."

I sense there's more to this story than Leo's letting on when he says anything. However, I'm not sure I want to know exactly what anything means. I'm not even sure he knows the context he's applied to that sentence by saying anything. So, I let that go for now.

"It's really pretty here," I say, running my fingers along the surprisingly soft surface of the rock. "Why did they plant the stonecrop here?"

Leo leans against the rock, shrugging his shoulders. "Maybe to make it feel more like their place? To mark their territory? I never really asked."

"Why not?"

"I feel like I ask Mom too many questions sometimes." Leo shrugs again, rubbing the back of his neck.

I sit down beside him on the rock and bump my shoulder against his. "I think your mom would be worried if you stopped asking questions, Leo. There's nothing wrong with wanting to know more about your dad and the life he had. The life he and your mom shared. If I were in your position, I would want to know everything."

He bumps me with his shoulder. "You just have an opinion about everything, don't you?"

I side-glance him, a small smirk on my face, and cock an eyebrow. "Is that a bad thing?" My voice is low, seductive, and challenging.

Leo's beautiful eyes widen the slightest bit and he opens his mouth, ready to tell me that's not what he meant at all, that he respects any opinions I have, and that I have the right to say what I want, where I want. I, however, clamp my hand over his mouth, laughing, and say, "Leo. I'm just kidding. Calm down. I know that's not what you meant."

Beneath my hand, he smiles and slightly shakes his head.

I drop my hand to my side, staring at him. This past couple of weeks have been challenging for Leo, but he's handled them like a king. I know it bothers him — the attention. It bothers him a lot. Which is why I can't even begin to express my gratitude. I wish there was a way I could repay Leo for putting up with all this media shit. He's been nothing but calm, cool, and collected, despite his anxiety. I had never thought, in a million years, that I'd be able to find someone who would show nothing but selfless ignorance to the public; appear sweet and reassuring, but be undercutting them in the most polite way possible. Killing them with kindness.

That being said, I am worried about him. He's been looking a little...ragged lately. Skinnier than usual. And there are shadows beneath his eyes. They're faint, but they're still there. I think he's trying to hide just how much the stress of being known is affecting him. How much the anxiety truly rattles him. I'm proud of him, beyond belief, for trying to cope with this, but it still makes me feel terrible, and I've been wanting to bring this up with him. Isabella knows how to work her magic when it comes to the tabloids. She could probably do something to prevent more information about Leo and I from getting out. Or even making it look like we broke up. My last intention of having a relationship with Leo was to make his life difficult.

But judging by the way things are going, how perfect this day has been, I'm going to leave that conversation for when we're back home in the comfort of the house. Er...one of the houses we've been jumping back and forth between.

"Are you ready to go get some tacos?" Leo asks. He pokes me in the stomach. "Your stomach sounds like a moaning whale."

I give him a light shove, frowning. "It does sound like a moaning whale, and I am not ashamed of it."

A grin splits his face as he links his arm through mine and pulls me to my feet. "Let's get some food, then. Because if you don't get something in your stomach, I'm going to start laughing at you. And even if you're not ashamed of the noises it's making, I will still feel terrible for laughing at you."

I lean my head against his shoulder as we head for the small incline we descended earlier. "I love you, Leo."

He rubs my shoulder, the palm of his hand rough against my hot skin. He presses a soft kiss to my cheek. "Love you, too."

The walk to the taco truck takes about twenty minutes. Within that time frame, Leo and I discuss what we're going to wear to the wedding. He already has to wear a suit and tie that's in accordance with the theme of the wedding, which is country (no surprise there). Tenille's wedding dress is the typical white wedding dress and Kit's suit is the typical black-and-white that's normally worn, but the bridesmaids' dresses are a golden yellow, closely resembling that of a sunflower. The groomsmen's ties match the dresses. I want to wear something that matches somewhat, but also doesn't take away from the bridesmaids' dresses; I don't want to steal any attention away from Eliza, Serena, and Clara. So, after a serious discussion, one that Leo actually seems to enjoy, despite the fact that we're talking about dresses and colours, we come to the conclusion that I will wear the mahogany-coloured dress I own. It's a summery dress, very typical and perhaps a little outdated, but it's still in good enough condition to wear to a wedding.

Once Leo and I are at the taco truck and have ordered our food, we disperse away from the crowd and find a spot to sit in the grassy patch next to the Olympic rings while we wait for our number to be called. We're both wearing hats and sunglasses, both of which we decided to put on once we left the forest and stepped out into public, so we have a pinch of privacy. He and I both know, though, that it's only a matter of time before someone recognizes us. We've taken Whistler by storm, according to Isabella and Scarlett. To be entirely honest, it kind of surprised me when they told me this. Technically, neither of us are from British Columbia. But if there's one thing I've learned after all the years of visiting Whistler and other locations in BC, it's that British Columbians are very passionate about their sports, which makes them very passionate about their athletes. The rest of Canada is, too, but BC...there's just something about it.

When our number is called, Leo jogs up to the taco truck and collects our food while I put another checkmark beside Leon's writing on the wrinkled, stained piece of paper. I keep trying to tell Leo that there's no shame in preserving this piece of paper and simply rewriting the bucket list to a new piece of paper for us to use, but he always shakes his head. I suppose I can understand why he would want to use the original paper. I just don't want him to risk losing it or potentially ruining it.

Leo hands me the paper plate that holds the three tacos I'm prepared to eat. After training this morning, I could eat twenty of these tacos. Despite the fact that I enjoy a good burger every now and then, I try to stick to plant-based sources of protein. I slip up...a lot, but at least I'm trying. Which is why I've ordered the Spanish rice and jalapeño taco. There are a whole bunch of other additions to this taco, but the rice and jalapeños are the best part. First of all, the rice is spicy and flavourful. Secondly, the jalapeños have been breaded in unsweetened shredded coconut and then deep-fried to oily, crispy perfection. And don't get me started on just how good the pico de gallo is.

"You come here a lot, don't you?" Leo asks through a mouthful of lightly breaded cauliflower and mango salsa.

I nod, my mouth too full to talk, and chew quickly. "Benn and I have a habit of coming here," I admit, pulling at a blade of grass. I don't know what it is about sitting on the grass, but every time I do, I need to pull at it, touch it. I used to do it all the time when I was young and played soccer, and I still do it now. "We're probably one of the main reasons this place stays open."

"I have to agree with you on that," Leo laughs. "When I first started working with you guys, that's all you two would talk about. Which taco you were getting that day or if you should resort back to your favourites."

My grin broadens. "Benn and I are total foodies. You should see us when we go on road trips together. We actually have this goal. Do you remember that TV show You Gotta Eat Here?"

Leo rubs his chin for a thoughtful moment before he nods. "Vaguely," he replies.

"Well," I say, setting my half-eaten taco down. " Benn and I have been to every location in Alberta that was on that TV show."

Leo's eyes widen. "That must be a ton of restaurants."

"It is," I nod. "But who can blame us? When you watch shows like that and see all the delicious food they're making, it's hard to not want to go. We're trying to hit up every location in British Columbia but it's been difficult with work and training. There's a place in Lake Country we both want to go. It's called The Jammery. They're supposed to have some killer waffles there."

"Where's Lake Country?" he asks, a small line between his eyebrows.

"Near Kelowna," I reply. "Do you know where that is?"

"I think so," he replies slowly. "I think Mom and Aunty Tenille, several years ago, went on a vacation trip there to visit all the wineries."

"That would be the place," I nod. "The Okanagan is known for its wineries and vineyards. And its natural beauty of course."

Leo is just about to respond to me when another voice interrupts us. "Oh, man! It really is the two of you! Aria and Leo."

Both Leo and I look up. Dread fills my stomach when I see a group of people standing before us. A group that consists of about five or six people. I really don't care what the number is. All I'm concerned about is Leo, and when I look over at him, I see that he's gone tense and entirely forgotten about the food and the conversation we were having.

Knowing that our cover has been blown, I begin to weigh our options. Leo and I could gather our food and run to the nearest trail, go get lost in the forest and find some privacy. But that seems a bit far fetched. If everyone in The Village has the right to spend their day doing what they want, then so do we. I think the option we should go with is staying put, right here, and finishing our lunches.

Removing my sunglasses and hat, I look up at these people who have interrupted us. They look like a group of tourists, some wearing their Whistler merchandise, others holding their cameras and phones, probably Instagramming the hell out of their trip. "We are," I reply, keeping my voice light and airy. I can't count how many times Isabella has given me lessons on how to address the public, how to deal with them when they're being insufferably nosy. The first thing I always do is put myself in their shoes; ask myself how I would feel if I were to run into one of my idols. If I were to run into Taylor Swift, I would probably, on the inside, lose my shit or act like the majority of my fans do. I then try to understand them as best I can and work it to my advantage. Meaning, I remind them that although our reputations are publicly known amongst the population, we are still people and that we deserve to have our own private lifestyles as well. "It's nice to meet all of you," I continue. "But if you don't mind, my boyfriend and I are trying to enjoy our lunches and would like a bit of privacy. You don't see us intruding on your time in Whistler."

While a couple of them nod in agreement and slowly begin to turn away from Leo and I, the other two, both a woman and a man, stand their ground. "Can we get an autograph?" the woman asks. 

I slightly cock my head to the side, wondering if this woman, who seems to speak English perfectly, could have potential hearing issues. But rather than snapping, I take a deep breath and smile at her. "I'm sorry, but I'm not doing autographs at the moment. As I said, we are trying to enjoy our lunch. It would be greatly appreciated if you left us alone."

I'm not sure what I'm expecting to be the outcome of this because every person I've dealt with is different. Most of the time, people are polite and accept the fact that I don't want to take pictures or sign autographs. As for the other times...well, people tend to snap on me. And it looks like today is one of those days.

The man, who's wearing some gaudy yellow T-shirt, snorts and crosses his arms. "I would suggest giving us the autograph we asked for. We, as a fanbase, are the very reason you, your father, brother, and cousin have a career. It's the least you could do." 

I blink. I've dealt with many rude people, but none of them has ever been this blunt. I realize that the NHL and other leagues would be nothing without fans. That, however, doesn't give them the right to walk all over us. At any given time, we could stop playing hockey and prevent fans from having a sport to be passionate about. Just like most relationships in life, the relationship between hockey, fans, and the players, has an even amount of contribution. 

"Excuse me?" Leo asks, his voice alarmingly steady.

I blink again, looking at him. I don't think I've ever seen Leo so tense before. Or so pissed off. 

"You heard me," the man spits. "All we've done is ask for an autograph. It's the least your girlfriend could do. Make her comply." 

Leo, who's clearly had enough of all this, gets to his feet. I have to stifle a giggle when I see how much taller Leo is than this man. I then have to stifle my own level of anxiety when I see that the other members of this group are recording the current scene going on via their iPhones and Instagram accounts or whatever social media they prefer to post to. I'm worried I might need to contact Isabella about this before the night is over. A lot of my fans will be pleased that I have a boyfriend who's willing to stand up for me, but what's going on counts as drama. And Coach said she wanted no drama until we were on the ice, playing hockey. 

"I don't have the right to make her comply," Leo snaps. "She's not some fucking lapdog. She's a human being with rights just like you and I are. Now, I suggest you back off and leave the two of us alone. If not, we'll leave. But, let me tell you something, either way, you are not getting your autographs. Especially after your comment about making her comply."

Yellow Shirt Man doesn't back down. Instead, he goes on a rant about how much of an idiot Leo is for letting me run the show, about how women shouldn't be allowed to play hockey. It's all the same bullshit that I've heard before. People like Yellow Shirt Man never give up until they make their point. Although Leo has shut him down in every way possible, he's not going to win this fight. 

Gathering up the food and tucking the containers under my arm, I get to my feet and tug at Leo's arm. "Come on, Leo," I say, my voice calm. "Let's go sit somewhere else."

He glares at Yellow Shirt Man with a look so cold it sends chills down my spine. I give his arm one more tug, hoping this doesn't escalate to a full-on fist-fight. Thankfully, Leo, with one last glare, links his hand with mine and follows me away from the scene. I can't imagine how many people just caught that fight and are now posting it online. By the end of tonight, I know Leo and I are going to be trending across Canada. 

"That man," Leo says, a crease still between his brows. "Needs to sort his shit out. I don't understand how he can treat people like that. And what pisses me off, even more, is that he got away with it." 

"I know," I reply. "But it happens. I've dealt with people like him before. The best thing to do is to ignore them. Assholes like Yellow Shirt Man feed off of drama. He probably just did that so he could become famous via the videos that will be all over social media later today. But don't worry about that too much. I know Isabella can get rid of them. She's exceptional when it comes to dealing with social media issues, which is exactly why I hired her."

Leo's face pales as he turns to look at me. "They were filming that?"

We're about halfway to the trails by now, waiting for the light to turn red so we can cross the intersection and begin making our way back to Saint-Sangster rock or even the picnic table behind the rental shop. "Of course they were," I reply, suddenly feeling tired. "They always do it. No matter what I do, I can't get away from their social media feeds. If I make one decision, I'm considered ignorant and selfish. If I make another decision, I'm considered too generous and inexperienced. And that's just regarding hockey games. I have to be careful about what I tweet, the pictures I post. I have to look half-decent when I make trips to the grocery stores. It's hard, Leo, but you learn how to adapt. Even if you don't like the way you have to adapt to certain things."

"So...So I'm going to be all over the Internet tonight?"

It's at this moment, this moment where I hear the shaky undertone of his voice and the high levels of anxiety that cloud his words, when I realize what I have to do. I never wanted Leo to suffer from my reputation and it's all my fault that he is. If I hadn't kissed him at the restaurant that night, we could still be running off of secrecy and privacy as opposed to having to deal with strangers and their inaccurate opinions. I know Leo is trying hard. I know he said he would. But he has his whole life ahead of him. He needs to be able to go to university and experience just like any other kid. He needs to play golf to his heart's content and make it to the PGA like his dad wanted to. 

Even if it means I'm out of the picture. 

Turning away from him, I briefly squeeze my eyes shut and regain my composure. I can do this. Even if it breaks my heart, I can do this. 

When I turn back to face him, I get right to the point. "Leo," I say, my own voice shaking with fear and sadness. I had always been afraid of us falling apart, of our relationship crumbling. I just never thought, after all our conversations, it would actually happen. "I don't want this to hold you back. I don't want this to affect your mental health. I know how much it bothers you. And despite the fact that you're willing to try to overcome this, which is something I appreciate beyond belief, I can't let the side effects of my life disrupt yours." 

His eyes widen, those beautiful, beautiful eyes that I can never get enough of. "Aria...What...What are you saying?"

I bite down hard on the inside of my cheek. "I think we need to call it quits before we get too deep."

A crease forms between his eyebrows. "Aria. Come on. I can do this. It's nothing. I'm just...I'm not used to it. But I can find a way to deal with this. I'm trying."

I shake my head, noticing that the light has turned red and the pedestrian walking signal has come on. "Leo, I'm so sorry, but it's the way this has to be." A tear slips down my cheek as I practically shove the food in his arms. "I don't want this. God, I don't want this at all, but I'm stealing your life from you. I can't do that."

Before he can say another word, before the look on his face can weaken my knees and cause me to retract my words, I turn around and sprint across the street, winding my way through the cloud of tourists. 

I hate myself for leaving him behind and cutting him off. But breaking up with him is something that needs to be done. I can't steal Leo's life from him. He didn't sign up for pressure like this. The best thing I can do is cut things off before it becomes too hard for him to handle. 

I know I'm doing the right thing.

So why is it so hard to convince myself?