Page 4 of Rough Start

“Your hair,” he chided, and she rolled her eyes.

“I’m going to cut it all off,” she declared.

“Don’t you dare,” Kye warned, and they met eyes. “Your hair is beautiful. Even if it does smell like burger grease.”

“Bully! I’m never bringing you food again!” Eliana shrieked, and Kye burst into laughter. She gave him a firm shove for good measure, and he responded by wrapping her in a bear hug, arms pinned to her sides. “Kye!”

“Take it back!” he goaded as she struggled to break free.

“Never!”

“Take it back, Eli. I’m not letting you go until you do!” Squirming with all her might, Eliana only managed to fall onto her side, Kye’s full weight pressing her into the platform.

“Damn you and your one season of wrestling,” she cursed and went limp. “Fine, I take it back. I’ll bring you all the food.” Kye’s body was shaking from laughter, and he shifted his torso, to her surprise, so he was laying over her propped up on his forearms. “Kye…” she breathed as he looked down at her. His eyes still glinting with mischief, but his face growing more serious.

“Eli?” he asked, both suddenly speaking in softer tones.

“Hmm?” she responded, feeling it was harder to breathe with him looking at her like that as opposed to when he had her in a bear lock. His icy, ungloved hand lifted to brush her cheek as he tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, his touch giving her a wave of chills.

“Don’t cut your hair,” he requested, and she felt a small smile pull at her mouth.

“Okay,” she agreed. Eliana knew the second his eyes moved from her eyes to her lips, and she felt blood rush to her head and her breathing stop altogether. His hands didn’t move, but his face was definitely getting closer. “Kye, are you…” …going to kiss me? That had been what she’d wanted to ask. What she’d meant to ask. Like the rush of winter wind that had blown the snowstorm through, she’d suddenly, and frustratingly, remembered the whole reason she had text him asking him to meet her.

She was leaving.

Kye felt the moment her body went rigid. Her sharp intake of breath might as well have been a second shove. He flew off her so fast he nearly toppled over the end of the platform and the twenty feet to the ground. Eliana sat upright and pulled her knit cap more securely onto her head. She didn’t know whether to apologize or burst into tears. Had her logical brain just ruined her only chance to have a first kiss with Kye?

“I didn’t mean…” she began to apologize.

“No, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…”

“I wasn’t telling you to stop…”

“I made you uncomfortable…”

“No, really, you didn’t…”

“It won’t happen again.”

“It won’t?” Her question was so quiet he barely heard it. Meeting her eyes again, he had to smirk at her rounded eyes and blushing cheeks. Their summer together as fast friends had slowly been turning into something else, and for weeks now he’d been wanting to kiss her. There always seemed to be something holding him back. Maybe it was his expertise in saying goodbye. He knew eventually Eliana would be just another farewell. Just the thought of that made his throat constrict.

“We killed the food,” he noted as he held up the squashed bag. Eliana couldn’t help but laugh, and Kye joined in.

“At least the hot cocoa survived,” she said, passing him the cup. Kye took a long drink before handing the lukewarm beverage back to her. A long moment of quiet passed between them. The tension of awkwardness was still wafting in the air, but the two settled back against the trunk of the tree, huddled close for warmth, and the serenity of their friendship took over.

“I was going to tell you,” Eliana began as she stared at the toes of her boots. “I heard back from the administrative office from Harvard today.”

“You did?” Kye’s excitement matched her own, though she felt she needed to keep it concealed for the moment. “Did they send you an acceptance letter?”

“Something like that,” she muttered. In truth, she’d not only received an acceptance letter, but also a phone call. The phone call. Four years’ worth of spring breaks Eliana had dedicated herself to building houses with Habitat for Humanity in the Boston area. Not just out of humanitarianism, but strategy. The Wendell Hall scholarship was her prize. It required over five hundred hours of community service, a written recommendation from a local politician, a GPA of no less than 4.0 and a ten-page letter explaining her qualifications, but she’d done it. Eliana was awarded one of only four scholarships a year that ensured her place among the Ivy League.

So, why did she feel sad?

“Eli tha-that’s amazing! You’re going to Harvard!” Kye flew to his feet. “Hey, everyone!” he beckoned to the empty park. “My friend Eliana Granville is going to Harvard University!”

“Kye!” Eliana cried as she tugged on his hand. Her admonishment fell on deaf ears as, instead of pulling him down, he yanked her to her feet.

“Did you hear me? Harvard University!”