Aria

It's enjoyable to watch Leo's reaction to the wondrous world of Whistler. It's also interesting to listen to him discuss just how different the East Coast is from the West Coast; he goes into detailed descriptions about the effects of the Atlantic Ocean on the eastern climate and vegetation. There are a lot of terms that he uses, such as jet stream and continentality, that are entirely lost to me, but I enjoy watching him discuss these concepts of what I'm guessing are related to geography. He reminds me a bit of myself when I discuss hockey: passionate and knowledgeable.

"This has to do with geography, right?" I ask after he's stopped to take a sip of water.

He nods.

"So, is that what you're going to university for after this summer is over?"

Instead of nodding, he shakes his head, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "I'm going to Dalhousie for environmental sciences, but I will cut you some slack because geography does play a large part in that area of study."

"Jeez," I mutter, looking down at my half-eaten sandwich. "That sounds like a lot of work and expensive."

"It's not bad when you're on a full scholarship."

Leo's words sound so carefree that I'm almost positive he didn't mean to say them at all. And, when he looks up at me, his mouth open and his cheeks slightly pink, my suspicions are only confirmed. It seems as though Leo never fails to carry secrets with him.

I cock an eyebrow. "And what, exactly, is the cause of this scholarship?"

Leo sighs, setting down his water bottle. For a moment, he stares out at the view of the aqua-coloured lake before us. The scenery surrounding us is serene and is potent with the scent of alpine air and vegetation. It's vast and breathtakingly beautiful — even for someone who has been here multiple times.

"Golf," he replies, fidgeting beside me.

Surprise takes hold of me and I turn to look at Leo. Not that I'm judging him by his physique but he just doesn't seem like the type of person that has an interest in sports. He's skinny and a little scrawny. I'm one-hundred per cent positive that I could demolish him in a round of arm wrestling. Also, sports usually require the ability to deal with everyone's attention being focused on you — especially a solo sport like golf. Leo seems like the type of boy that would very much prefer to have a spot on the sidelines rather than be in the spotlight. It's...surprising.

Leo chuckles, a small smirk on his lips. "Wow. Way to hide the look of shock, Aria." 

I pull my bottom lip between my teeth, still attempting to wrap my head around this. He must be excellent at golf if he's managed to obtain a full-ride scholarship. "Sorry," I reply timidly. "I didn't mean to disrespect you. It's just surprising, that's all. You're kind of..."

"Introverted?" he offers.

"Yeah," I nod.

"I know," he replies. "I've always been like that. My mom and grandpa raised me differently than a lot of the kids I grew up with back in New Brunswick. I guess you could say I was always a little more mature, more down to earth in a sense. Mom always told me the things we do need to have a purpose, that these memories and moments we create need to hold meaning when we think back on them. I was never one of those high school kids that liked to go out and party, drink and get high — that kind of stuff. I found it pointless. The majority of the time, I was working on my studies or reading a good book or toning my golfing techniques. To be honest, a lot of the stuff I did in memory of my dad. The fact that I'll never be able to meet him fuels that, fuels what I'm — we're doing with the bucket list."

I try to think about what my life would be like if my dad had passed away before I was born, about how different it would be. For one thing, it would have been just my mom and I in the end — Jax wouldn't have even been born. The very thought saddens me. As much as my brother and I fought when we were kids, the number of times we got along overpower those moments of disagreement. It would have been lonely without my annoying little brother next to me. I also don't think I would have been as passionate about hockey as I am now. The sport would have been a painful reminder about who my dad used to be and what he used to stand for. It would have hurt too much for me to play the game my father loved.

In all of this, though, despite my best efforts, it's still difficult for me to imagine what life would be like without Luke Madden and his nerdy, silly, optimistic attitude influencing me. I know it would've hurt me, but I don't know to what extent. I glance at Leo, upset that I'll never truly be able to understand what it's like to never meet one of the two reasons you're alive.

The last thing I want to do is give Leo pity. I feel as though he doesn't need it — he's come this far. "So," I say instead. "Your dad was a golfer, I'm assuming?"

A small smile forms on his lips. "He was one game away from making the PGA tournament."

My mouth drops open. "Are you serious?" I gasp. "That's...that's....wow."

"I know," he replies. "Kit, my dad's friend who was also on the team at Dalhousie, says he was one of the best golfers he's ever met; definitely deserved his spot in the tournament."

It's at this moment I realize that once you get Leo talking about something he likes, it's difficult to shut him up. I golf over the summer to help my techniques in hockey, but I've never really taken the terms and rules into consideration. So, I'm mildly confused when he delves deeper into the game. My confusion doesn't bother me, though. On a regular basis, I can barely get more than a few sentences from him. If confusion is the price I have to pay to hear him talk, then so be it.

"I wish I could have met him," he says, his voice becoming infused with a hint of sadness. He runs a hand through his messy honey-blond hair. "I'm thankful for the pictures and the stories, but it's not the same. Sometimes I get caught up in my train of thought, constantly wondering what he would think of me or if he would have loved me like my mom does."

"Leo," I say, reaching out and resting my hand on his shoulder. "I've only met your mom once and I've only heard a few stories about your dad, but I think, if he's anything close to what your mom is like, that he would have loved you so much."

He smiles weakly at me, and for some strange reason, the urge to kiss him becomes prominent in the depths of my stomach. Beneath the clear blue sky and golden heat of the sun, he looks even more tempting. And I can't help but notice how his hair glimmers and his beautiful eyes remind me of the lake in the background.

"Thanks, Aria," he says.

I pull my bottom lip between my teeth in thought, wondering how he would react if I were to kiss him. If I were to tangle my fingers in his har and pull him flush against me. I can't comprehend why I want to, why I'm feeling so desperate when we've only known each other for a small amount of time. But that's the thing about love, isn't it? It doesn't take long to fall when you have no control over your feelings.

"Leo?" I ask softly, my gaze honed in on his full lips.

"Yeah?" he asks.

"When you said these memories we make need to have a purpose when you look back on them, where do I stand in all of this? Do I have a purpose?"

He stares at me for several seconds, taking in my features while he prods his brain for an answer. "At first," he finally replies. "No. To be honest, I was a little pissed off at your for grabbing the bucket list from me and reading it. But, you did convince me that doing this together would be a better experience. And you know what I think?'

I raise my eyebrows in question.

He reaches out a brushes something from the corner of my mouth. "I think you're right. Seeing all of this with you is better than I ever thought it would be. Thanks for convincing me to not do this alone."

Chuckling to myself, I shake my head and look away. He's making this seem like I made a selfless move when all I really wanted, in the end, was to spend more time with him.

"Well," I smile, flicking my gaze back to his. "You are very welcome."

For a brief moment, Leo's eyes flick down to my lips with curiosity, and I watch the movement of his Adam's apple as he swallows thickly. Whether it's from anticipation or nervousness, I can't tell. Despite our conversation and the time we've spent together, Leo is a difficult puzzle to figure out. He's good at keeping his emotions hidden when he wants to, or simply disguising them as something else.

Which is why I decide to take the first step. Subtly, I shift myself closer to him, causing our bare thighs to press against each other. Our thighs are sticky with a sheen layer of sweat and the hair on his tickles mine, causing me to shiver slightly. Every time we touch I get this strange feeling in my veins, in my mind; a rush of something similar to adrenaline.

When I look up at him this time, he's staring at me intently, an intense look in his beautiful eyes. A feverish look, really. On top of the look, he's close. Close enough for me to smell the comforting woodsy scent that radiates off of him and feel the heat of his bicep against mine. However, he's not close enough for me to kiss him, to run my fingers through his hair, to feel him against me. 

So, I decide to change that.

I close the remaining space between us and grab the collar of his muscle shirt, fisting the fabric in my hands and tugging him closer. He falls into me as I kiss him; the movements of this sudden surge of passion causing us to tip over, my back pressing against the cool surface of the flat rock we're on, and his warm, surprisingly fit body pressing down on mine. The movements of his mouth are hot and heavy as I tangle my fingers in his hair, the tips of my fingers pressing against his scalp. A small groan escapes Leo's mouth and he parts my lips with his tongue.

A fire begins to rage through my veins, filling me up and fuelling the passion between us. I can't understand where all this is coming from when we hardly know each other, but what I do understand is how real these emotions between us are. I can feel it in the way he kisses me. In the way my body wants him to be closer and closer with each passing second. 

"Leo," I murmur, my lungs burning for air. 

Suddenly, just as fast as we began kissing, he pulls away and puts a fair amount of distance between us. I sit up, watching the way his shoulders heave as he attempts to regain control of his breathing patterns, as he tugs at the collar of his shirt. I'm acutely conscious of how quickly my chest is rising and falling, of how hot my cheeks are, but I'm too fascinated by Leo's reaction to care about my inner mortification. 

He runs a shaky hand through his hair, quickly glancing at me. He's shocked, that much I can tell, but there's also something else in his eyes. Something that vaguely reminds me of intense longing. 

I reach up and touch my tender lips, wishing he would just lean forward and kiss me again because I don't know what I'm supposed to say next. It's ridiculous. I'm a twenty-year-old woman, after all, but my main problem is that I've never felt like this before. Sure, I've had boyfriends in the past, I've had one-night flings, but I've never actually felt something before as I do with Leo. 

He clears his throat, the redness in his cheeks deepening as he glances out at the view and begins subconsciously picking at a weed that's broken through a crack in the rock. "We should, uh, get going, yeah?"

I quickly drop my hand from my mouth and bit my lip, forcing myself to remain calm, cool, and collected. "I mean, if you want to," I shrug. "Sure. There's a lot more to see."

Leo glances at me again. "Sure," he replies, nervously chewing on his thumbnail. 

The longer our gazes stay locked, the more I begin to realize how stupid I'm acting. When it comes to relationships and my fear of committing to something other than hockey, I need to be more like my parents. When they met, Mom had been Dad's physical therapist after he'd brutally injured his knee. It was a romance that never should have happened, yet they embraced it the best they could. There were some problems along the way, but they always tell me those problems are what made them stronger as a couple. 

So why should I let my fear of what could potentially stem from this kiss scare me? It's entirely impossible to calculate the outcomes of a relationship when you don't give it a chance. 

Rather than turning away from Leo and packing up my bag, I turn to him.

But he's already on his feet, slinging his backpack over his shoulder and looking down at me. "Ready?" he asks. 

I blink, feeling stupid for even thinking he'd want someone like me as their girlfriend. He may be on his way to becoming a golf star like his father was, but that's where the difference lies. Golf isn't Canada's main sport, it doesn't help define the basic principles of being a Canadian like hockey does. Because of Leo's personality, I don't think he'd be able to handle stepping into the spotlight that follows me everywhere. His name will be known when he makes it as far as he can, but he doesn't have an entire nation weighing heavily on his shoulders. He won't have to deal with people rushing up to him in a goddamn bookstore and asking for his autograph. 

Even if I do want him more than I've ever wanted anyone in my life, I can't do that to him. I can't pull him into a life where nothing is private and the world knows who you are. 

"Yeah," I blink, stuffing my water bottle and wrappings from my sandwich into my backpack. "Let's go."