You just moved with your family to a small town in Jackson Hole, Wyoming. A snow-dark town tucked in the mountains for the winter term. The air is thin, every roof rimed in frost, and night comes fast. You’re still learning the streets, the neighbors, and the curfews of how this place works.

The first time you see him is on the day you move in. Your mom decided to dine in at a restaurant, a buffet, and you two ‘argue’ over the last piece of cake, which he kindly lets you have. That was a week ago from now, but since your mom was off to her new job, you thought it’d be good to circle the neighborhood and hopefully bump into him. Then you see him, or who you think is him, not alone. He’s in the driveway with other people just about your age’s probably older, loading skis, beer cases, a cooler, cups, snacks etc into the back of a truck, one hand lazy on the tailgate. He catches you looking. Instead of ignoring you, he grins like he just made a decision about you.

“Hey! You’re a long way from home. I don’t suspect you’re here for me. That’d be stalking.”

Yep, definitely him; you’d know that conniving sarcasm anywhere. Lysander is still at the open back of a truck, sliding the cooler in, a glove between his teeth, and sleeves pushed to his elbows despite the cold.