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snack. Nothing more satisfying than catching and eating your own food.
    Warmth: Plenty of wood for the campfire. Pine needles on floor of the shelter provide plenty of cushion. Cold is invigorating!
    Mood: Excellent. Head feels clear. About to fall asleep with a full belly under the stars after a long day of work. All those babies back on campus, curled up under their down comforters, don’t know what they’re missing.

5
A WAVERLY OWL CAN ALWAYS SPOT A KINDRED SPIRIT .
    “A little higher… a little more. Harder, please…. Oh, yes, that’s it,” Tinsley moaned.
    “Do you have any idea how dirty that sounds?” Julian McCafferty took his hands off her shoulders mid-massage. Tinsley was sitting backward in Julian’s desk chair, staring out the darkened window, as he worked all the tension out of her shoulders, tight from an early-morning indoor tennis match. The soothing sounds of an old Death Cab for Cutie song emanated from his Bose SoundDock.
    “Of course, sweetie,” Tinsley replied, closing her eyes. She loved the feel of Julian’s strong hands on her shoulders. “Why do you think I’m doing it?”
    Tinsley had spent a relaxing, shopping-fueled Christmas in New York with her parents—her mom felt so guilty about abandoning Tinsley for Thanksgiving that they’d nearly maxed out her AmEx card on a Madison Avenue spree. But the highlight of her break was meeting up with Julian at the Carmichaels’ town house in Lake Placid. They’d spent long days on the slopes, making out on the ski lifts and racing each other back down the mountain. Julian was an even better skier than Tinsley, which drove her crazy—in ways good and bad. They spent their evenings curling up together in front of the fire with a bottle of wine, or soaking in the outdoor hot tub, watching the crystalline stars appear in the clear night sky.
    Julian pressed his lips to the nape of Tinsley’s neck for a quick kiss before flopping facedown on his bed. He was so tall that his toes almost hung off the end of the regulation extra-long twin bed. The bottoms of his Diesel corduroys were frayed beyond repair. His blondish-brown hair was sun streaked from the days on the sunny ski slopes, and it had grown so long that he could pull it into a ponytail, which Tinsley kept threatening to chop off. “Come on over here. It’s your turn to be masseuse.”
    “That’s not the worst idea you’ve ever had.” Tinsley stepped toward him, eager to run her hands all over his lean, muscular body, when a noise outside caught her attention. A few hearty male voices were followed by a chorus of girly giggles. It was the first night of Jan Plan, and since no one really had to get up in the morning, it was notoriously one of the best party nights. “But do you think we should maybe make a social appearance tonight? There’s something going on in Maxwell.”
    Julian pushed onto his elbow and gazed up at Tinsley. He wore a gray T-shirt with a picture of a monkey wearing a space helmet. “You really want to go?”
    Tinsley sank down onto the edge of the bed. She did, but she sensed that Julian didn’t. “I don’t know.”
    “Well, we’ve got a whole month of parties to look forward to. I’d rather, you know, just be with you.” Julian grabbed a lock of Tinsley’s hair and twirled it around his finger, something he’d made a habit of recently.
    Sweet. But a twinge of regret shot through her—she was Tinsley Carmichael, after all. Shouldn’t she be out there, in the middle of all the action? She thought fondly of last Jan Plan, when she and Brett and Callie had thrown an exclusive First Night party in their oversize Dumbarton dorm room. It was black tie, and invitation only, and they drank only the best Shiraz from Ryan Reynolds’s family’s vineyards.
    But then Julian sat up and put his hand on Tinsley’s waist, right at the spot where her skinny black Earl jeans didn’t quite meet her tissue-soft Alice + Olivia T-shirt, and for a moment she forgot