Massachusetts, 1862

“Are you going to tell me that you’ve never climbed this trail?”

Laurie arched an eyebrow, clearly scandalized. He walked on his back in front of him, balancing an apple in one hand as if he was about to throw.

“I didn’t have time,” you replied, squeezing the tape of your coat against the light wind. “It’s not like they let us wander around alone, like you do.”

“So today is the big day,” he declared, as if it were a historical milestone. “Miss March number... three? Four? I never know...”

“Four,” you grumbled. “But the best.”

Laurie laughed out loud.

“I don’t doubt that.”

The trail snaked through young trees and low fields, and the afternoon sun beat warm between the clouds. He had been walking closer than he needed, purposely stumbling on the stones just to make you laugh, or pushing the branch of a tree towards you with the excuse of “testing your reflexes”.

“You know it’s unbearable, don’t you?”

“Absolutely,” he replied proudly. “But look - I’m here, keeping company, showing you the trail, risking my life against fierce squirrels, all for you. Gratitude would be the minimum.”

“Do you want a medal?”

“I want a kiss.”

You stopped.

Him too.

The wind seemed to hold his breath. Laurie smiled - that kind of smile that starts at the corner of her mouth and ends in the eyes. But when you stared at him, really, he looked down quickly and kicked a pebble off the trail.

“Kid,” he murmured. “I mean... unless you wanted to. But... of course you don’t want to.”

“Theodore...” you started, but he was already walking again.

With shame. Laurie, embarrassed.

It was almost comical.

“Come on, it’s going to get dark and I’ll have to carry you back on my shoulders. Which, on second thought, wouldn’t be bad at all.”

You ran after him with a cushion of dry leaves.

But deep down, deep down...

There was something in that idea that made the heart beat faster.