After the unspeakable tragedy of last year, Charlie Pruitt never would've guessed she'd leave her sunny safe haven in California and return to that mountain. A mountain tainted with loss, horror, and unknown death. Thrown back into a group of friend...
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CHARLIE PULLED HER RED LEATHER JACKET closer across her chest as another harsh bite of cold air ran through her. She knew the turtleneck and leather jacket with jeans combo wasn't the best choice for a trip to the mountains, but she had been in California for six months and her options were limited.
It didn't help that she also never planned to come back to Blackwood Mountain.
She quickened her pace, listening to the satisfying crunch of her boots against the packed snow. Though tempted to play some music to soothe the terrifying walk alone, Charlie knew there was too much anxiety swimming in her chest to relax to any tunes.
She hadn't exactly been alone when she hopped off the cable car, meeting a beaming Jessica. But the Riley girl had explained she was meeting someone, someone Charlie presumed to be Emily since the girls were best friends. But now the Pruitt girl was trudging the woods alone, desperately making her way to the lodge.
At least, she thought she was alone, which is why a bloodcurdling scream erupted from her lips when a figure lunged at her from the shrubbery, yelling. She jumped back slightly, bunching her hands into fists and preparing to send punches flying at her attacker.
However, the figure's shouts melted into laughter that made realization strike her like a bullet, and her entire body grew warm. "Mike," she hissed, lowering her clenched fists with slight irritation. "Seriously?"
The Munroe boy was still hunched over with laughter as he wagged a finger at her. "Holy shit! You should've seen the look on your face!" He finally straightened his posture and smiled down at her, making the feeling inside her worsen. "Hi Charlie."
"You're so stupid," she grumbled, folding her arms scornfully. "I was getting ready to clock you, you know?"
"Oh, I bet," he snickered, holding his hands up in fists that mimicked her own. "Think you can take me down?"
"You'd be surprised," Charlie rolled her eyes, but she couldn't ignore the relentless aching in her gut. Six months of no talking later, and it looks like she had never quite gotten over her dumb crush on Michael Munroe.
She hated it, and would probably never confess it aloud to anyone. Her feelings toward the previous class president were complex, and most of the time she couldn't even figure it out herself.
Truthfully, she found Mike's character somewhat irritable. He was a stereotypical douche, dating girls and flirting like second nature. But no matter how infuriating he was, she always became incredibly nervous around him, her insides wanting to squirm their way out. And she hated how she'd developed feelings for him, just like most of the girls in their friend group. She never wanted to admit she'd fallen for the dumb swoon's spell.
