I hate and love the snow.
It was snowing the day my father died.
It was snowing the day my mother moved back to New York.
Nearly every shitty day in my life, it’s been snowing. Even in my hellish dreams, it snows. But some of the greatest memories I have of my family were on the snowy ski slopes. We were a happy, close family. Mother and Father teaching their baby son how to snowboard. Until I became older and I could race them both on black diamonds with ease.
Like Sulli, I grew up with thrill-seeking parents. My dad worked a desk job so he could play harder. He ran marathons. He was healthy. So his heart attack was a surprise to everyone. Especially me.
I sense the rising tide of grief. Flooding me.
Memories are like a mystery bag of emotions. Reach in and you can pull out the bad ones. The sad ones.
Even if you’re only reaching for the happy past.
Guess I got the sad past.
“Kits?” Sulli whispers in the motel room, concern all over her voice. She’s awake. Actually looks like she’s been awake for a while. I’m not that shocked. Still on her side, she’s propped up on an elbow. A phone glows in her hand, illuminating her face.
“I’m okay.” I lick my dried lips and pat her thigh—that wasn’t her thigh. I just patted her ass.
Sulli goes still. Her reaction is hard to decipher in the dark.
I tense. “Sorry, Sul—I was aiming for your leg.”
“Oh hey, I didn’t think you were trying to cop a feel or anything,” she says easily. “It’s alright.”
Usually that’d comfort me. Now, the friend-zone is stifling. Like I’m still being packed in an avalanche of snow. I swallow hard, and I wonder if this is what she’s been feeling.
I haven’t been fair to her.
Sulli sits up. She’s more content than in my dream. Her morning hair is messy around her wide, squared jaw.
Quietly, I tell her, “It was a dream.”
“Yeah?” She studies my face. “How was the fucking snow this time?”
I exhale a breath. “Heavy.”
I’ve told Sulli about the snow, my dreams—she even knows about the steel room. Only last time I dreamt that one, I wasn’t trapped with Sulli. I was trapped with Banks. And she was the one to unlock the door.
Before I psychoanalyze myself, I check my phone. Texts are already sky-high. Mostly business-related. I’ll answer them later. It’s still dark outside. Almost sunrise.
Banks is sound asleep beside Sulli, and I’m glad he’s getting rest. Honestly, I hope his dreams aren’t as mind-fucked as mine.
Sulli watches as I rise to my feet.
I jab my thumb to the door, and she nods into a smile. No words needed. Just like that, she knows.
Soundlessly, we throw on clothes. I peek over at her while she shimmies running shorts up her toned hips. She’s watching me as I pull a tee over my head.
She’s twenty-one.
All grown up.
I’ve never slept with a friend. Never slept with a client, that’s for damn sure.
Messy. So messy—but I’m tired of taking wrong turns when it feels like the right one is right in front of me.
I can’t lose her.
Can’t imagine life without her.
I wonder what it’s like to touch her, to kiss her.
The things I want, I go for. And now that I’m wondering about it, I want it.
Sulli digs around in her backpack, and I go to mine. Unzipping the side, I grab a small notepad and pen from the bottom. Scribbling a quick note.
Sulli abandons her backpack. Sidling next to me, she cranes her neck over my shoulder and reads the note.
I wrote: Morning run with Sulli. Be back soon. – 9
She motions for me to hand her the pen, and I give it to her. Below my words she draws three little waves.
With a smile, I whisper, “Who said this was a group note?”
“Hardy-har-har.” She leans down for another doodle.
I steal my pen back.
She pushes me lightly in the arm, smiling. Her smile expands my lungs. Lifts my chest. Makes me feel really good. I love when I’m in her good graces. Love when our playful dynamic is back in action. Hate when it’s all burned to shit in the land of awkward friendship.
Then don’t be friends, Nine.
The thought nearly steals my breath. I keep moving. Tip-toeing to the sleeping mats, I leave the note near Banks. Close to his hand.
He’ll notice it.
More silently, Sulli and I make our way outside. To the dewy, dark morning. We go behind the motel and into the wooded thicket. I see what she removed from her backpack. She tips a small travel-sized bottle of mouthwash to her lips and then swishes. It’s casual, but fuck it’s sexy.
I’ve seen her do that a thousand times before.
And each time rushes back to me in a heat wave.
Sulli hands me the bottle, and I take a swig. I watch as she spits on the ground. Would she spit out my cum or swallow it?
I think she’d try both.
Cold wind barely pricks my skin. I try to regain some focus by handing her the empty bottle back. I spit the mouthwash in the grass.
She free-throws the bottle into a dumpster we left back at the motel. A basketball court away, and the mini-bottle still lands perfectly in the trash.
I shake my head. “Foul ball.”
“Total swish.” She walks backwards into the woods, a playful smile on her lips. “Race you?”
“Only if you pretend to tie me,” I tell her seriously. “We’re shit-knows where. I can’t lose you out here.”
“Deal.” She holds out her hand for a handshake, but I know better.
I go for it, and before she can clasp her fingers with mine, I drop my hand and run past her.
“Cheater!” she calls out with a grin.
“I didn’t say I play fair!” I yell back.
Darkness is just receding. Light barely rising from the horizon. This has always been my favorite time to run with her. Early mornings with Sullivan Meadows—they’re a strong heartbeat to my life.
Can’t live without them.
Can’t live without her.
She takes what I said to heart and keeps my pace, which definitely isn’t the one she normally sets. She’d be at least a mile ahead of me by now.
We venture further into the woods, on a path that I scoped out last night during my call with Price. Just in case she’d want to do a morning workout.
When Sulli runs, she looks free. Like she’s letting go of every stressor. Every worry. She doesn’t clock her run times as often as her swims. Though, she’s made for the water. That’s undeniable. No asshole can say otherwise.
Not even me.
My soles pound the dirt much heavier than hers. She takes measured, controlled breaths, and each foot down is a stronger, lighter foot forward. She’s physically stronger than any woman I know. And while we run, I can’t stop looking at her.
I skim her up and down. Hot blood courses through my veins. My eyes land on her ass, her legs that flex, her green eyes that give me a you-keeping-up-Kits? competitive smirk.
No I haven’t kept up, Sulli.
I’ve fallen really far behind. It hurts to think that it’s taken me this long to see her. To really see her.
But I know it’s good I didn’t before.
It couldn’t be too early.
I just hope I’m not too late.