The Missing Years - a kissing booth fan fiction

Awareness

Elle

My cheeks and nose are tingling with the cold but I feel the best I have since Lee was here. Breathlessly, Caitlin and I run back up the snowy hill before handing the sleds off to Robyn and Sophie. They slide down the hill and run the sleds back up to us, and then I'm flying across the snow again, laughing with what can only be described as childish joy.

Caitlin assures me that sledding (or sledging as she calls it) is a completely normal winter activity for people our age to be involved in. I suspect that one of the reasons she and I have become close is because she completely embraces her inner child the same way I do. Either way, I am having a blast and feel no need to look too closely at why she piled us all into her car to head to the hill today.

Apparently Cait wasn't kidding when she said Callum would probably kill her for stealing his sled today (the fact that they each actually have their own sleds that they brought back with them after Christmas is hilarious) because after about an hour she says "Oh shit." We are sitting at the top of the hill, completely out of breath. We all look in the direction of the car park where Caitlin's finger is pointing.

I see Callum and his friend Andy get out of Andy's car, along with two other guys that look familiar. I think they're also on the rugby team.

Soph speaks up. "What? They probably just want to sled too."

Cait shakes her head. "No, if that were the case Cal would have come on his own, or maybe just with Andy since he drove. But he's brought reinforcements."

Caitlin and Callum's twin sibling relationship reminds me of mine and Lee's friendship in a lot of ways, and I understand the whole play revenge thing. My brain springs into action. "Okay, they're blocking our exit to the car, so we need to head to the side, into the trees," I say pointing downhill and off to the right. "That way maybe we can slip around them and make a run for it."

"Elle, you're a sneaky genius," Robyn grins.

Cait considers for a second before responding. "Yep, I like it, good plan. Let's go!"

We bolt for the trees, hoping that they haven't spotted us. There are a heap of people out in the park today, after all. No such luck. I hear Callum's yell in the distance and Cait's echoing laughter. We regroup behind some shrubs and she says, "Okay, this is going to turn into a fight. Spread out and start making snowballs. Don't let them surround us."

Sophie shakes her head like she wonders how she ended up in this mess. "You lot are truly mad, you do know that, right?"

The rest of us fan out and furiously start making snowballs and after a moment, she shrugs and sets to with her gloved hands.

The guys come running into the trees and before long snowballs are flying every which way. I'm using one of the sleds as a shield as Andy peppers me. The barrage stops for a moment and I make a dash for it. I hear Andy catching up with me and all of a sudden I'm flying into a snow bank, dropping the sled in the process. He's tackled me and we're both buried in white, his face near my shoulder.

Inspiration strikes and I use my free hand to grab some snow and shove it down the back of his jacket. He flinches when the cold hits his neck and I take my opportunity to wriggle away. I get to my knees and try to run but as I stand he grabs my hood and pulls me back towards him. I accidentally elbow him in the sternum on the way down, knocking the wind out of him.

"Okay, okay, I yield! Truce!" He wheezes. "Geez Elle, maybe you should be on the rugby team."

I laugh, thinking how ridiculous I would look on the field against all those giants. I manage to get to my feet and turn back to offer him my hand. He grins at me devilishly. "You did say truce, remember?" I warn him.

"No fun Elle," he says but accepts my hand and gets to his feet. He ends up standing very close to me, looking down at me. I have a fleeting moment of panic that he might kiss me but then the grin is back and he's shaking all the snow out of his hair, all over me. I laugh and push him, not succeeding in moving his bulk much. "Brat."

We both dust ourselves off and he grabs the sled, throwing a friendly arm around my shoulders as we walk back to find the others all in similar states of icy disarray. I notice Callum staring at us intently before he says to Andy, "Excellent, you managed to retrieve my sled from the thief."

"That I did. Not without a fight though," he says, grinning down at me.

We all end up having a few more runs down the hill on the sleds before heading back to the flats. We park the cars and walk to our nearest pub, where the warmth of the fireplace greets us. Our group squeezes into a big booth, with Cait and I sandwiched between Callum and Andy. Sophie and Robyn don't appear to be too upset at having to sit next to Lachlan and Will.

Over drinks and a couple of orders of hot chips and gravy, stories of the snowball fight are recounted and jokes are told. It's a fun afternoon and as Cait shows me photos she took at the hill, I suddenly feel the need to preserve the memory of today. It's one of the best days I've had since I got here and I realise I haven't taken all that many photos of my friends.

I ask her to send me a couple that she'd taken earlier and then we do a couple of selfies together. I get Will to take one of all of us since he's sitting on the end. I post them on Insta, something I haven't done in ages. I don't have to look back far at all to see the post from the weekend in Vegas. The big group photo of us all at the start of the night. Noah standing at the back next to Tuppen, smiling broadly.

I wonder if I'll ever see that smile again. I shake my head slightly and close my phone. That's a thought for another time, when I'm not surrounded by people. The rest of the night passes in a haze of drinks and laughter and then we're all stumbling back to our flats. Once I've washed my face and brushed my teeth I crawl into bed.

I close my eyes and even though I'm beat, I can't help but think about that photo. Noah's face. It's like he's a constant presence hovering just out of view, always on the edge of my awareness.