Restored by food and another marshmallow-filled hot chocolate, I clomp across the tiled floor in my heavy boots behind my friends as we head out for more fun on the slopes. Outside, the previously patchy blue sky has nearly disappeared under a film of gray and white clouds. That’s a shame, as the sunshine really did make everything look fantastical and pretty.
This time, the group has decided to all stick together for the afternoon. I find my board amongst the rows of vibrant multi-colored boards and skis and ease my bruised butt down onto the snow, reclipping boots and putting on my helmet, goggles, and gloves. The disappearing sun seems to have brought an added chill to the air, and I pull my neck warmer up high to cover my chin and lips.
Ready to go, I stand, taking a moment to get my balance and follow my friends as we peel off, one after the other, heading down a fairly easy blue run. Well, easy for them and not too challenging for me.
At the lift at the bottom, I look back up the slope and catch the flash of Jarrod’s black jacket coming down the slope toward me, his hips swaying backward and forward, strong muscular shoulders tilting as he moves in wide, sweeping arcs across the slope. He’s as rhythmic as a dancer, as handsome as a male model, and as light on his feet as a professional fighter. I stand awestruck. How does such a big man move so fast and effortlessly?
I imagine the play of muscles under the layers of his warm, thick, downy jacket, the ones I got to gaze at last night. But before I can dwell any more on hot tub memories, he makes his final sweeping turn, stopping within feet of me in an arc of white powder that showers white icy flakes across my black boots like sugar on a donut.
I just shake my head and turn to search for the others in the lift line ahead of us. But, yet again, I’m forced to hang with Jarrod. We shuffle up the line along with other skiers and riders until we are funneled into the lift gates. He is standing right beside me, so close I can smell his expensive cologne wafting around me in the cold mountain air. Not even the fluffy, soft snowflakes that are beginning to fall can water down the heady scent.
For the entire ride on the lift, I look silently at the scenery below and pretend not to notice the way Jarrod’s strong arm is pushed up against mine and how the heat from his muscled thigh is permeating through my thick ski pants. I try to inch away, but I can still feel him, and it’s messing with my head.
Near the top, he leans down to say, “I’ll exit left. If you go right, you’ll have plenty of space.”
“Okay, fine,” I agree, and we lift the barrier and prepare to hop off. This time, I exit the chairlift flawlessly. Okay, maybe not exactly like an expert, but at least I remain upright, and for me, that’s flawless.
Back with our friends, I flop back down onto the soft, wet snow to refit my loose foot into the binding. The soft snow today is a blessing on my tender butt. Jarrod plonks his long-limbed body beside me, mirroring my actions but in a more skillful, efficient way. How does he do that so quickly when I’m still trying to clip in?
He sits quietly, watching me, which doesn’t help my fumbling fingers maneuver any better. When I’m done, I sneak a peek at him, then quickly hide my smile. His clenched jaw is enough of an indication for me to know behind his helmet and goggles is a furrowed brow. I’m guessing he wants to say something and isn’t used to having to hold his tongue.
I look up to the sky, and more snowflakes land on my goggles. Coming from Florida, the experience of snow is always a novelty, and I love taking a moment to enjoy it.
Jarrod is looking down at his cell now, checking something. “Hey, Blake, it looks like this weather is starting to close in, so we should start to make our way back to the village now.”
“Okay. Let’s all meet back down at the bar. And remember the rule—last one down pays for drinks.” Then, as soon as he’s said the words, he is upright and already off down the mountain, Jarrod and Scott chasing close behind him.
“Girls excluded,” Jas shouts after them.
The boys had the right idea getting off the mountain quickly. It really is getting cold sitting here, and we still have another short run down to a chairlift before we make it onto the final trail back to the village.
I take my time following along behind Bec and Jas like a snowboarding conga line. The sun has now completely disappeared behind ominous gray clouds, and only weak filtered light leaks out at the edges.
One more bitingly cold lift ride to go, I tell myself as the three of us shuffle along in a line to be scooped up by the chair. There’s no laughing and chatting like we did this morning as each of us try to retain our body heat by huddling down into our jackets. I tuck my exposed chin more tightly into my neck warmer when it starts to sting from the icy wind, which is attempting to peel a layer of skin off.
Before dismounting, we agree that we’ll see each other down at the bar. It’s an easy run down that we did a couple of times this morning, so I know the route, and I don’t want them hanging around in this cold waiting for me to catch up.
At the top of the lift, it’s chaos. Groups of skiers and boarders assembled, all wanting to find that gap on the snow to stop to wait for their friends still to come off the lift. I lose sight of the girls as I go right and they go left.
Quickly I get ready to go, then stand, taking a moment to get my balance before sliding down a little to traverse across the slope. I look for Bec’s distinctive blue jacket or Jasmine’s yellow one, but there are so many skiers and boarders on the slopes it’s impossible to spot them. The conditions are rapidly deteriorating, and I decide instead to concentrate on getting down, slow and steady. But just when I’m congratulating myself on my progress, I go to turn again, and like I’ve just jinxed myself, I hit an unseen bump in the snow that sends me hurtling headfirst into one of the soft drifts of snow at the side of the groomed slope. Flipping my board over, I sit back on my butt to brush the snow from my face and goggles with a gloved finger. Dammit, it’s so hard seeing the dips in the snow when you’re being pinged in the face with tiny ice pellets.
I half hop with my board attached to one boot, walking the few feet back onto the slope. I plop down, and from this high spot, I can see the rooflines of the buildings below in the village. Just this last short bit, and I’ll be in the warm, cozy bar with my friends, giving my tired, sore muscles a well-earned rest.
Bending my knees closer to my chest, I reach down to hook the strap to my boot, but it won’t clip in for some reason. I’ve never had a problem doing this in the past, but this time, it isn’t working.
Ten minutes of tugging and pulling later, and I’m about ready to scream in frustration. My butt is freezing, and the snow is coming down so fast I’ll make my own snowdrift if I stay here much longer. Pulling off one glove, I dive my bare hand deep into the inside pocket of my jacket, searching for and grabbing my cell. My freezing fingers clasp it clumsily, and I text Cassie to let her know my binding is broken. Thankfully there is good service, and in the worst-case scenario, from here, I could walk down if I had to. Not that I’m eager to do that in the quickly deteriorating bad weather.
I look down at the screen, willing it to display the three dots to indicate Cassie is replying. But nothing. I drop it back into my pocket and quickly shove my hand into its glove. There are not many people around now, and a kernel of worry has lodged itself in my stomach.
Come on, Cassie, look at your phone, I mumble to myself. Then, like she has somehow heard me, my cell vibrates. Removing my glove again, I retrieve my cell and see Cassie’s response telling me Jarrod is on his way.
I’m relieved but also disappointed that yet again, Jarrod is having to come to my rescue. Why can’t I just for once not be a walking disaster around the man?
Chapter 12
Jarrod
Coldwindstrikesonefinal blow to my face when I skid to a stop at the bottom of the home run. These are no longer the big fluffy flakes that had started to fall about ten minutes ago. The predicted snow clouds have gathered over the ridges of the mountain and are dumping their load onto the skiers and boarders with increasing ferocity.
