It's Just Pretend

Opening Old Wounds

"Just try new things. Don't be afraid. Step out of your comfort zones and soar, alright?"

-Michelle Obama

The past week had been a blur of late-night conversations, inside jokes, and text messages that stretched into bedtime. The kind of connection that felt effortless, like slipping into a warm coat during one of Wood Creek's endless winters.

After our first date, we had fallen into a rhythm. Every evening, my phone would light up with his name, and we'd talk about everything and nothing at all. It was strange how easily we had synced, how natural it felt to have him occupying my thoughts.

Tonight, though, felt different. The anticipation in my stomach twisted in a way that I hadn't felt since our first meeting. We had planned a hike—a second date, if I dared call it that. And while the thought of spending time with him again filled me with excitement, there was also a sliver of doubt. The plan had originally been for dinner the night before, but he got caught up with work and had to cancel.

What if this time was different? What if, now that the initial spark had settled, we'd realize we had nothing to talk about?

I barely slept the night before. Excitement buzzed in my veins, an unusual feeling for someone like me who always had one foot ready to bolt when things felt too good. The anticipation of the hike and seeing him again had my mind racing. I woke up early, made a quick breakfast, and showered while I waited for his message. Just as I zipped up my bag, my phone buzzed.

"Outside."

I smiled at the simplicity of his message and grabbed my things before heading downstairs.

The morning sun was casting golden hues over the small town of Wood Creek. July was slipping into August, and though winter reigned for most of the year, the short-lived warmth transformed the landscape. Wildflowers bloomed along the roadside, and the scent of pine carried on the wind. It was the perfect time for a hike—something I'd wanted to do for a while but never dared to attempt alone.

Wood Creek's surrounding forests were beautiful but wild. Bears, moose, wolves—you name it, they roamed these parts freely. The thought of stumbling upon one without backup had always been enough to keep me from venturing out solo. So, when he suggested the hike to make up for not making dinner the night before, I jumped at the chance, though I played it cool.

He leaned against the driver's side door, hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket.

"You ready?" he asked, tilting his head slightly as I approached.

"As ready as I'll ever be," I replied, tugging my bag on my shoulder and double checking if I had everything before closing the door.

He pushed off the truck and walked over, taking my bag from my hands before I could protest. "I got it."

The gesture was simple, but it made something warm unfurl in my chest.

The drive to the trail was quiet, comfortable. Every now and then, he'd glance over, smirking as he caught me watching him. I couldn't help it. There was something about the way he carried himself—confident, but not cocky. Relaxed, but never careless.

"I think you just like staring at me," he finally teased, breaking the silence.

I rolled my eyes. "Don't flatter yourself."

He chuckled, turning his attention back to the road. "Too late."

It was a two-hour drive to the trailhead. I had planned to use the time wisely, to ask all the questions swirling in my head, to get to know him beyond surface-level conversations. I even had a list—a mental catalog of things I wanted to ask, carefully curated after deciding I was ready to start dating again.