Winter Secrets

“Wow,” I say as we walk into the cabin. “This place is huge!” I take in the living room first. It’s to the left of the entry way. There’s a huge wood burning fire, four large couches, three love seats, two recliners, three bean bags and a rocking chair. Behind all of the couches and such is the dining room. A large table that’s only big enough to fit half of the group, a long table right behind one of the couches, a small table in the corner of the room next to two windows and a round table is next to the largest table.

In my head, I was already calling dibs on the table in the corner.

“Check out the staircase,” Peter comments, walking out of the entry way to let more people come through. I noticed that a lot of girls had packed at least five suitcases each. I wasn’t feeling so insecure about my three bags now. “I wonder if we’ll all be sleeping upstairs.”

“I wouldn’t count on it,” Peering past the staircase to the wall the fireplace was at. There was an entry to a hall way just past the staircase. “They’ll probably split us up. Girls on one level, boys on the other.”

I saw Peter’s shoulder slump out of the corner of my eye. I bet he was counting on being on the same level as girls so he would have a better chance to hook up with them.

“Everyone, please gather around over here.” Mr. Lane called out, grabbing our attention. Peter and I made our way over to the living room where Mr. Lane had signaled us into. He waited until everyone was quiet had their attention was on him. “Right, so we have decided that the girls will be upstairs and the boys will be downstairs. Some of you are going to have to share rooms with someone else due to the amount of people we have this year. Trading rooms will not be allowed. We’ve posted your names on the doors of the room that you’re assigned to. And remember, if we catch you in a room that you’re not supposed to be in after 9, there will be consequences. Understood?”

We all mumbled our answers and then Mr. Lane dismissed us to find our rooms.

“Good luck,” Peter comments as girls start pushing their way up the stairs to find their room. I couldn't help but let out a loud groan.

“This should be fun,” I mumble under my breath. Peter chuckles, patting my shoulder before rolling his bags off in the direction of the boys’ rooms.

I wait until all of the girls had gotten their bags upstairs before heading up. Once I’m at the top, I stare at the doors until I find the one with my name on it. Thankfully, my name was the only one on the door which meant I wasn’t sharing with anyone. Score!

Rolling my bags into the room, I look around. There’s two beds, two armoires, two bedside tables, and a giant pile of thick blankets folded nicely in the corner of the room. I leave the suitcases by the door as I go over to one of the beds to test out the softness.

After I decide which bed I want, I start unloading the clothes from my suitcases into the armoire next to my bed. As I’m hanging up my shirts, I hear my name being called from the hallway.

Cocking an eyebrow, I walk over to the door and peak my head out. Peter is standing at the top of the stairs, getting odd looks from a lot of the girls that were lingering in the hallway.

“Over here,” I call out to him. His glances over at me and quickly makes his way to my room. I look behind him as a few girls come out of their rooms to watch him. I can see Erica glaring at me from her room on the other side of the hallway. I don’t think I’m doing such a good job at making friends right now.

Peter grabs onto my shoulders and pushes me back inside of the room, nearly making me lose my balance. I stare at the door in shock as he skillfully kicks it shut with his foot. He’s obviously done this before.

“I got Owen Harding as a roommate!” Peter complains, letting go of my shoulders and falling onto the bed I had claimed as mine. “Do you know how loud he snores?” I didn’t get the chance to answer him. Not that I would know. I don’t even know who Owen Harding is! “Really loud. I’m never going to get any sleep.” Peter pauses to look at the other bed. “Could I crash here?”

“No!” I chuckle. “I’m not letting you get me into trouble.”

“You have no sense of adventure, Katherine.” He chuckles.

“Of course I do,” I defend myself, narrowing my eyes at Peter. “I just prefer the adventure that won’t get me a month’s worth of detention.”

He nods his head, ending that conversation. I stand next to the bed for a second just staring at Peter before I go back to putting my clothes away. It’s quiet in the room and I could feel Peter’s eyes on me. I had no doubt that he was staring at my butt as bent down to pick up another shirt from the suitcase.

Peter was easy to talk to. He had the look of a player and the reputation of one as well. But there was something very… intriguing about him. And he was the only person on this trip that didn’t hate me.

After I finished hanging up my shirts, I tucked my pants into the bottom drawer of the armoire. I left all of my snow gear inside of the bags for now along with my underwear and bras. I could put those away when I didn’t have Peter watching me.

“So,” I say, sitting at the edge of my bed. Peter still hadn’t moved an inch. He hadn’t even taken out his phone, which had dinged a few times from text messages. He just continued to stare at me. “What are you looking at?” I ask him finally.

“You,” He says as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Which, I guess it kind of was…

“Really?” I say sarcastically with a quick roll of my eyes.

Peter chuckles, “I’m trying to figure you out. You’re different.”

I pause for a moment, staring back at him. Man, his eyes are really pretty…

No.

“Yeah, and how many times have you used that line?” I ask.

“Only…” He pauses, closing his mouth. “Wow, I have used that before.”

“Of course you have,” I chuckle, shaking my head at him. “You’re such a player. And don’t you dare try to deny it.” I rush out as Peter opens his mouth to disagree. He quickly snaps it shut, glaring daggers at me. “Do you think we’re allowed in the kitchen? I’m starving.”

Peter hesitates, “I think so.”

“Well I’m going to get some food then. Are you coming with or not?” I ask him, getting off the bed and heading for the door. I pause with my hand on the handle to look over my shoulder at Peter. He sighs and then gets up from the bed and follows me out of the room.

A lot of the girls had migrated into one of the rooms to gossip and what not. I could have sworn that I heard my name as we passed the room to get down the stairs. Most of the guys had planted themselves in front of the TV where The Christmas Story was playing.

As Peter and I walk into the kitchen, which is to the left of the living room, I notice that a few other kids have already been in here and now Mr. Lane was cleaning up after them. When we walk in, he glances up at us.

“Someone made a mess with the hot chocolate mix,” He explains. “You’d think that a high school student would know how to clean up their own mess.”

“You’d be surprised,” Peter commented from behind me.

“Well,” Mr. Lane says, dropping the chocolate covered washcloth into the sink to rinse it off. “I hope you two will clean up any mess that you make because now I know who to yell at if I find another mess.”

“Will do, Mr. Lane,” Peter answers as our teacher walks out of the kitchen. “So, what are we having?”

I hold up a finger, telling him to wait as I search the cabinets. I smile as I finally find what I had been craving ever since I got on the bus.

“Can I trust you enough to make some popcorn?” I ask Peter as I chuck the box at him. He catches it easily and sends me a smirk.

“I don’t know. I have a tendency to burn things.” He jokes, opening the box and taking out one of the packets. “I’m not five years old, Katherine. I think I can manage to press a button.”

“You sure?” I joke, grabbing a pan out of another cabinet and placing it onto the stove. Peter rolls his eyes at me and places the popcorn into the microwave as I grab the milk from the fridge.

Peter makes himself comfortable on top of the counter as I start heating up the milk for hot chocolate.

“So, do you snowboard or ski?” He asks me after a few seconds of silence between us.

“Um, I snowboard. Kind of,” I admit. “I did when I was younger. I wasn’t terrible at it but I haven’t gone in years. I have no idea what I’m like now.”

“Well I’ll make sure that I get plenty of videos of you when you fall on your face,” Peter smirks. I roll my eyes at him before I start my search for the hot chocolate mix. If only Mr. Lane had told me where it was…. “Looking for this?” Peter asks from behind me. I shut the cabinet doors and turn around to see him holding a box of hot chocolate mix.

“Yes,” I say, walking over to him and snatching the box from his hand before he tried to hold it out of my reach. He chuckles at me as I pour in two packets of the mix into the warm milk.

“Do you like marshmallows or whipped cream?” Peter asks, hopping off the counter.

“Whipped cream,” I answer him as I grab two of the mugs that were sitting on the counter and pouring hot chocolate into each of them. The mugs were huge. They reminded me a lot of the giant mugs that were in The Polar Express.

Peter surprised me when I felt his body press against my back. He held the can of whipped cream in his right hand and used it to overflow the mugs of hot chocolate. I’d never really had a guy hit on me before. So I wasn’t sure what to think of this situation.

“The perfect cup of whipped cream,” Peter said softly before pulling his body off of mine. I missed his warmth immediately.

This was going to be a problem.