Chasing Sunrise: A Sweet YA Enemies-to Lovers Romance (Inn for the Summer)

by Sara Jane Woodley

  I paused. What should I tell him? Jonathan and I were on slightly friendlier terms this week. I was getting to know this new Jonathan, and to my surprise, he was actually funny. And almost cool.

  But I wasn’t sure I was ready to trust him yet. I didn’t want to divulge the full truth behind my being here — I was still sore from Lucas’ words all those years ago.

  “Kicking your butt,” I said, deciding to hedge. I went to stand at the opposite end of the gazebo floor. “Shouldn’t be hard.”

  Behind him, the moon was shining brightly over the lake. The lights in the gazebo threw a warm glow on his face while he laughed, so he looked even more carefree than usual. With his blonde hair, chiseled features and lovely smile, it would’ve been a really nice photo. I fingered my camera bag, wondering if I should take it out.

  “No, honestly.” His eyes caught the moonlight and sparkled. “If you tell me yours, I’ll tell you mine.”

  Was he serious? I chuckled, stalling for time. “I want to climb the mountain next to the Inn. Preferably for sunrise.”

  The words tumbled from my mouth without consideration. I hadn’t thought about the mountain in days, but now that the words were out of my mouth, I realized how true they were.

  “Then let’s do it,” he said, his voice low. “Tomorrow. 5:30am. Let’s do it.”

  Another challenge. I can’t say no to a challenge put forth by Jonathan Wright.

  I smirked and narrowed my eyes. Was he teasing me? I’d never done something so spontaneous before. Usually, I planned something like this to prevent disasters.

  But Jonathan was looking at me expectantly, and his smile made me feel surprisingly calm about the whole thing.

  “Deal,” I said as a smile broke out over my face. “Now, your turn.”

  “Okay, so, my top bucket list item—”

  He walked towards me, and his eyes bore into mine. My heart sped up.

  Get a grip, Kiara.

  He stood in front of me, and I straightened instinctively. My legs felt numb, and I leaned back on the railing of the gazebo. He smelled nice, like shampoo and pine trees. He reached an arm beside me as though going in for a hug, and I realized I wasn’t breathing.

  “If you want to know, you’ll have to catch me first.” He flicked off the light switch for the gazebo, conveniently right next to me.

  Laughing, he darted away.

  I stood still, my heart racing. What just happened?

  I chased after him, but he was already at his cabin.

  “Bright and early, Garcia.” He saluted me, ducked into his cabin, and locked the door.

  I rolled my eyes, out of breath, as I made my way into my cabin.

  I tried to convince myself the run had made me breathless, but I wasn’t entirely sure that was the truth.

  The sky slowly lightens towards dawn. I stand alone and look over the lake, feeling nervous.

  Are we actually doing this? Are we going to try to scale a mountain in the dark? I don’t like hiking at the best of times, but now it feels even less likely. What types of animals mill about when the daylight hits? Coyotes? Bears? Mountain lions? What if we run into one of them?

  And what if Jonathan doesn’t show up?

  What if this is all just a big prank? Maybe he’s watching from the bushes right now, snickering at the girl who thought they might actually be friends.

  Should I go back to the cabin and forget this ever happened?

  I don’t want to bail, but I don’t want to look like a fool, either. Or be eaten by a bear.

  This is stupid.

  I should just go back home.

  “The Queen’s up early this morning.” Jonathan’s voice brings the relief of lotion on a sunburn.

  I fake a dramatic sigh. “It’s the price I must pay for being a royal, I’m afraid.”

  Jonathan jogs over.

  “Golden boy.” I put my hands on my hips and feign impatience. “Late again.”

  He punches me playfully in the arm as we set off. But instead of going towards the lake, he heads towards the forest.

  “Think you can keep up?” he asks, smiling over his shoulder. “I found a shortcut, but it might be too tough for your Majesty’s delicate feet.”

  “You could always carry me. Like a good peasant.” I grin.

  He still calls me Queen and makes jokes about my royal lineage, but now that I’ve gotten to know him better, they don’t feel mean. They’re actually kind of fun, it’s a little game we play. I’m relieved he’s here — it means I don’t have to climb the mountain alone.

  We jog across the grounds towards the forest and I finally see what he’s referring to. There is a break in the trees with a dirt path leading upward.

  “Legacy Viewpoint,” I say, reading the sign next to the trail. “Fantastic!”

  Jonathan lets me go first, stopping whenever I need a break to catch my breath. Ava was right. Nature is not my thing, and gaining elevation is the bane of my existence. The things I do for photos.

  Meanwhile, Jonathan practically jogs in circles around me.

  “You’re annoying,” I say at one point, too exhausted and out of breath to come up with anything witty.

  “So, is it time for me to carry you now?” Laughter twinkles in his eyes.

  I glare and try to hold back a smile. Classic golden boy, being the best at everything.

  Jonathan leads me through the last section of trail. The birds have started their maniacal morning song and butterflies flutter about. The sky lightens, and soon, the sun will peek over the mountains. Despite the burning in my legs, I walk with renewed purpose.

  After what feels like the hundredth switchback, we reach a flattened piece of earth with a wooden platform.

  I fall dramatically to the ground and take a deep breath. “We made it.”

  Jonathan laughs. “You know we have to go back down, right?”

  “I’ll roll.”

  I catch my breath, then sit up to enjoy the view.

  It’s perfect.

  The sun hasn’t peeked over the mountains and the sky is still a muted shade of dark blue. I whip out my camera, snap photos, check the results, and adjust for the eventual sunrise.

  “This view is amazing,” I say.

  Jonathan, however, isn’t looking at the view. He’s turned towards the mountain, looking up. I follow his gaze and see what he’s looking at. We aren’t far from the summit of the Legacy Mountain and there’s a rough trail for hikers far more daring than me.

  On one hand, any photos taken at the summit will be better than photos taken here. On the other, it means more hiking. And it’s not the clear dirt path we followed to get to the viewpoint. The trail is rough and overgrown with thorny shrubs.

  “Are you thinking...”

  “Scared?” He turns towards me with a challenge in his eyes.

  How could I back down?

  Jonathan leads the way up the rough trail, holding back branches and brambles as we go so I don’t get scratched. It’s a suspiciously kind move and I narrow my eyes every time he does it, expecting him to let go of a branch so it smacks me in the face. He never does, though.

  We reach the summit and look out over the panorama. It’s breathtakingly beautiful.

  From up here, we can see the Inn and the garden, along with the surrounding forest. Behind us, the mountains of the National Park are dark, unmoving masses. The lake reflects the white-capped peaks ahead of us, and a ripple makes them disappear into oblivion. The sun is just starting to rise, and the sky is now shades of pastel. The air is brisk and fresh, smelling of morning dew. It’s colder up here, but that’s not the reason I have goosebumps.

  This view. This absolutely perfect view.

  I whip the camera to my face and urgently take photos. I’ve never seen anything like it.

  Snap. Snap. Snap. I watch the sunrise from the screen of my camera. It’s unbelievable. I hope the photos do it justice.

  Jonathan, however, is silent. He took a couple of photos, but he
’s now standing still, eyes on the horizon. His camera hangs from his neck.

  “Don’t you want to get this?” I ask, my brow furrowed. “How many times will we see something like this?”

  He keeps his eyes on the horizon as the sky becomes vibrant shades of pink and red.

  “Exactly,” he says. “Why not just enjoy the moment?”

  I frown, considering his words, and peek over my camera at the vista before me. For the first time since the sun started to rise, I lower my camera. I let go, letting it hang from the neck strap, just as he’s doing.

  My breath catches as I watch the sky change from moment to moment. I rarely let myself enjoy a beautiful view for what it is. I usually need to capture the scene as best as I can while the wonderful, inspiring, terrible action is happening.

  Is this what it means to live in the moment? My heart is racing.

  26

  Jonathan

  The sky is changing by the second and I don’t want to blink.

  Slowly, I sit, carefully holding my camera. Kiara is as blown away as I am. She takes a seat next to me and we watch the sun rise in a comfortable silence.

  “It’s the golden hour,” she says, her voice low and happy.

  Golden hour? I’m about to ask when she reads my mind.

  “It’s the time right after sunrise. See? The light is softer and warmer, and the shadows don’t seem as harsh. It’s just calm, happy, peaceful.”

  I tear my eyes from the horizon to look at her. I’m captivated. She’s beautiful. Her dark hair frames her face and her eyes are filled with wonder. She takes one last photo and then lets the camera hang in front of her. I don’t want to look away, but I know that I’m staring.

  The golden hour washes over us. For all of my early morning workouts, I’ve never taken the time to appreciate the sunrise. I did a lot of my morning training sessions inside, or if we were outside, I was usually too distracted by my coach to pay attention to my surroundings.

  “One of my first memories is of the sunrise,” I say without thinking. “I was with my parents.”

  Kiara is so close her knee is touching mine. The words come easily, without thought. It’s an unfamiliar feeling, seeing as I usually have to monitor my every breath.

  “We were traveling together when I was a kid. We used to do these insane road trips over to California or Texas or Florida — we’d just get in the car and drive.”

  I smile and my breath catches. “I remember one morning, back when I was 4, my dad got us up early. He wanted to beat the crowds to one of the beaches in California. I was sleeping in the back seat, but I opened my eyes right as the sun was rising. The sky was so colorful, I’d never seen anything like it. My parents were holding hands in the front. It felt like the world stopped. It was the happiest I’ve ever been.”

  I remember it all. The colors in the sky, the flat road ahead of us, the quiet in the car. It’s a still image in my mind, the place I return to anytime I’m stressed or unhappy. I’ve been visiting the memory more and more over recent years.

  And then, my smile fades. “The next year, my parents started putting me into every soccer camp in Edendale. I joined league after league to eventually become the ‘star midfielder’ of the Eagles.” My fingers form quotation marks around the words. “That sunrise feels like the last thing I really enjoyed before they started expecting so much. Before they wanted me to become a big-time soccer player with a full-ride scholarship.”

  Back then, my parents were happy and carefree. Now, they frown when I come into the room. Soccer weighs on them as much as it weighs on me. It’s the prison we’re all trapped inside.

  To my surprise, Kiara’s soft hand reaches for mine, giving it a squeeze.

  “What about photography?” she asks.

  I laugh bitterly as a much less pleasant memory comes back to me. “They would be horrified to hear that I want to pursue photography. They never wanted this for me. In fact—”

  How much can I say? How much should I tell her? I glance over and Kiara’s looking at me with a question in her eyes. Her gaze is soft and kind.

  “It was a photo you took that got me into trouble.”

  Her brow furrows and a fire lights in her eyes.

  Did I say too much? I instantly regret not phrasing my words better. But, in a matter of seconds, her face relaxes and her mouth pops open.

  “Oh. That photo?” she asks.

  I nod silently, thinking back to the image that plastered the front of our school’s newspaper last fall — the photo that had created waves with so many of my friends and family. It’s a beautiful photo, there’s no doubt. It’s well-shot and I could hardly believe the person in the picture was me.

  “It didn’t take long for Coach to recognize me.” My voice is quiet, like the golden hour has hushed everything in its glow. “Then my teammates and friends, and finally my parents. I almost got kicked off of the Eagles because of it. It took a very long time to convince Coach to let me stay on the team and to make it up to my teammates. My parents still bring it up with me whenever we get into arguments.”

  I shrug, remembering the months of work it took to make reparations. It’s part of the reason I shoved my camera into the back of my closet for so long. Now, I wouldn’t dare even say the words “photo” or “camera” around my closest friends and family.

  “I’m sorry, Jonathan.” Kiara says, her voice sincere. “I didn’t know.”

  Her words feel like a balm, and I realize how much of my dislike for her has been grounded in that one action from last fall. The very thing that separated us was a grudge I held without thought. I never considered that she might not know how much that photo had affected my life. Given that she would still make the occasional sassy remark to that point, I assumed she knew exactly what she was doing when she published the photo.

  “It’s okay,” I finally say, realizing that it’s true. A heavy weight is lifting off of me. “Honestly, it was about time my parents figured out how much I like photography.”

  Kiara has that cute half-smile again, but her eyes are sympathetic. The glow of the sunlight on her face makes her look ethereal. Her eyes meet mine and it’s like the golden hour is shining from within her.

  Her photo got me in so much trouble, but why do I feel grateful for it now?

  27

  Kiara

  I’ve stopped breathing. For once, I don’t force myself to look away from Jonathan’s eyes, and I let the moment engulf us. The sun feels warm on my cheeks already, and the stillness in the air feels like magic.

  Emotions roar through me. The photo that Jonathan is referring to is the same one that got me this year’s award with our newspaper.

  I took the photo last fall, during one of the first Eagles games of the season. I arrived late, as usual, and by the time I got to the field, the Eagles were 20 minutes into the first half. I stood off to the side, tucked in by the bleachers.

  As I made my way along the bleachers, however, I came across an unusual sight. A guy with a dark jacket and a beanie was standing just ahead of me with his own camera.

  From the back, I remember thinking the guy seemed attractive. He was leaning casually against the side of the bleachers, effortlessly confident, and he appeared artsy. He snapped a photo of the game as the Eagles were celebrating a goal.

  It was such an unusual moment that I took my own photo. The guy’s profile was clear — he had a chiseled jawline and blonde hair peeking out of the side of the beanie. It was a stark contrast to the dark outfit and the darker bleachers.

  The flash from my camera caught the guy’s attention, and he whirled around. The “artsy guy” was none other than Jonathan Wright — the Eagles’ star soccer player who should have been playing.

  My jaw dropped.

  His shock turned to rage, and he glared at me before running off.

  I stood still, barely able to register what had just happened. Why was Jonathan Wright taking photos of the game instead of playing it? I brushed off the ques
tion as “weird golden boy behavior” and continued taking photos for the newspaper.

  A few days later, I was going through all the game photos with the editor and we came across the image.

  “Kiara, this photo is exceptional,” Abby said as she pulled up the image on her screen and enlarged it. I’m proud of most of my work, but I’ll admit that this photo was particularly good. The scene was moody, dark and real, contrasting perfectly with the celebrations on the field. “We need to publish this.”

  I frowned at her words. Given his rage when he saw me, I had the feeling that Jonathan was not supposed to be there on that day.

  “I don’t know, Abby,” I said, trying to take the spotlight off the photo. “It’s not really a proper photo of the game.”

  “So? Who cares?” Abby flailed her hands around.

  Was she joking? Abby may have been new to the editorial team, but she must’ve known this. “Literally the entire population of Edendale.”

  Abby sighed. “Yeah, I guess so. Still, this shot is a one-in-a-million for our paper.”

  I blushed, then scrambled for another excuse. “I just don’t think it’ll do well with the student population. They want to see the action, not some random guy taking photos of the action.”

  As I said the words, I knew they were true. The students at our school wouldn’t be interested in a well-shot image of a guy taking photos at a soccer game. If they knew that the guy was Jonathan, that might change…

  Despite my lingering anger with him for his false “nice guy” persona, I couldn’t fathom throwing him under the bus. I could always publish the image with another magazine or newspaper once we’d graduated.

  “No way,” Abby insisted as she played with cropping the photo onto the front page. “This needs to be in the next issue.”

  “I’m not sure…”

  Abby swiveled around on her chair to face me, her eyes wide and questioning over the tops of her round glasses. “Kiara, you want to be a photographer, yeah? You’ll want this photo in your portfolio, trust me. It’s fantastic. Don’t sell yourself short.”