“Need a hand?” Henry asked, and I nodded. I extended one upward, and he grasped it—his hands cool against mine—and gave me a pull, allowing me to throw a leg over onto the wooden planks of the floor. I let go of Henry’s hand and pushed myself to my feet, starting to stand. “Careful,” he said. He pointed upward. “It’s a little low in here.”
I saw that I had been just about to whack my head on the roof. “Wow,” I murmured as I crouched down. When I’d been here last, I’d been able to stand up to my full height with no problem. The treehouse didn’t appear to have changed much. There was nothing inside it except a plastic pail in the corner that I saw was positioned under a leak; every few seconds there would be a muted ping sound as another drop fell in.
Henry was sitting at the front of the treehouse, his legs dangling in the air. He took off his baseball cap and ran his hands through his hair, brushing back that one lock that sometimes fell over his forehead. I crouch-walked over and sat down next to him, hugging my knees to my chest and rubbing my legs with my hands to try and warm them up a bit. If my sweatshirt had been bigger, I would have tucked them inside without a thought to how ridiculous I looked.
Now that we were under a little bit of shelter, I could see how gorgeous the woods were in the storm. Everything seemed greener than normal, and the sound of the rain was muted, making it seem much more peaceful than the deluge we’d been exposed to out on the road. It was still very windy, and I watched the trees around us as they bent and swayed in the wind. Mr. Crosby’s carpentry skills seemed to be holding up, though, and the treehouse wasn’t moving or even feeling unsteady.
“Better?” Henry asked.
“Much,” I said. I leaned forward and glanced at Maryanne’s house. I could see it through the trees—though it was still dark, it was worryingly close. “Won’t Maryanne mind?”
Henry shook her head. “Nah,” he said. “I come here sometimes to think, and she doesn’t mind it.”
“Got it,” I said. We sat there in silence for a moment. The only sound was the rain falling all around us and the wind whipping through the trees. I glanced behind me to the treehouse again, still marveling at the fact that it looked the same—just a little shrunken. “I can’t remember the last time I was up here,” I said. “But it hasn’t changed much.”
“It would have been that last summer, right?” Henry asked, turning to me. “When we were twelve.”
I nodded, looking straight ahead at the branches that were swaying and dipping. “Probably.” And maybe it was the disorienting effect of being caught in a rainstorm, or the conversation I’d just had with Lucy, but before I could consider what I was saying, I asked, “Do you ever think about that summer? I mean, when we were…” I paused, hesitating over the right word.
“When we were going out,” Henry finished for me. I looked at him and saw that he was still looking at me. “Of course.”
“Me too,” I said. I wasn’t quite brave enough to tell him what I’d realized at Gelsey’s slumber party—how much it had impacted me, our first attempt at something like love. It was the only time, I supposed, when you could go into something totally fresh, with no baggage, no idea of how you could get hurt and hurt others in return.
“I mean,” Henry said, “you were my first girlfriend, after all.”
I felt myself smiling at that. “And there have been lots of others, I take it, in the interim?”
“Scads,” Henry said, straight-faced, making me laugh. “Just dozens and dozens.”
“Same here,” I said, deadpan, hoping he knew that I was joking. Because other than my cheating ex, Evan, and two very short-lived relationships sophomore year, there was nobody of significance to tell him about.
“You know,” Henry added after a moment, “I really liked you back then.”
I took a deep breath. “I shouldn’t have done that to you,” I said. “I shouldn’t have left like that. And I’m really, really sorry.”
He nodded. “I just didn’t know what was happening. I didn’t know if I’d done something….”
I shook my head. “No,” I said. “It was all me. I just… tend to run away when things get to be too much.” I shrugged. “I’m working on it.”
“I couldn’t believe it when you showed up on the dock,” he said with a laugh. “I thought I was hallucinating for a minute.”
“Me too,” I confessed. “I thought you’d never speak to me again.”
“I tried,” he reminded me, and I smiled at that. “But seriously,” he said, looking right at me, his tone a little more measured, “you’re a hard habit to break.”
I looked into his eyes and could feel my heart begin to pound a bit faster. The air around us suddenly seemed charged, and it felt like we were standing at a crossroads—that things could go either way from here, but there was a decision that had to be made.
Slowly, inch by inch, Henry moved closer to me. He reached down and touched my hand with his, making me shiver, even though I was no longer cold. He picked up my hand and looked into my eyes, as if making sure this was okay. It more than was, and I hoped he could see that in my expression. He leaned a little closer to me and tipped back my hood and I didn’t even care what my hair looked like. He placed one hand on my cheek, stroking it with his thumb as I shivered again. And then he leaned toward me and I could feel my heart beat hard, and we were so close, just a breath apart. I closed my eyes and, as the rain and wind whipped all around us, he kissed me.
It was soft at first; his lips touching mine lightly. Then he pulled back and cupped my cheek under his hand and kissed me again.
This time it wasn’t so tentative, and I kissed him back, and it was a kiss that was both familiar and brand-new, making me remember a kiss from five years ago, and making me feel like I’d never been kissed before in my life. And I realized that maybe Lucy was wrong—maybe sometimes there was such a thing as a perfect moment. His arms were around my back, pulling me closer, and I looped my arms around his neck and ran my hands over his jawline, suddenly not able to stop touching him. And while we kissed, up there among the trees, the rain tapered off until, at long last, the sun came out.