If I lay here any longer I’m never going to get up. I’ll gladlylive here forever in this stolen moment. I feel a flicker against my collarbone, like a butterfly. His hair is light and fluffy, and it tickles me as he moves. I snake my arm out from under him and maneuver a pillow to replace my body.
I have to jump over him to get out of bed. Gently shifting my weight, I hitch my leg up over his hip until I’m straddling him. His loud yawn fills the van. When his eyes meet mine, I’ve been caught. I didn’t mean to end up here on top of him like this, and my chest caves as I suck in a breath.
Reid’s eyes are firm, focusing on the space where our bodies are connected before drifting up to meet my own. His voice is raspy. “Good morning, Adelaide.”
My lip is quivering. I bite down on it, stuttering. “Morning.”
I shift slightly on top of him, needing desperately to remove myself from his hips, but I feel stuck here. There’s a severe disconnect between my head and my heart, and it’s making me act like an idiot. Something slightly hard pushes against me—it continues getting harder when I shift again.
I jump off of him and the bed as soon as I discern what it is. It’s a natural thing that happens in the morning to guys, I know, but the stupid hopeful part of me wonders if it had anything to do with me being in his lap.
Once I catch a glimpse of my knotted hair and plain face, all of that hope is gone. I start getting ready, but Reid is still laying there. If I can’t stay horizontal, then neither should he. He’s making himself way too comfortable in my bed—the sight makes my stomach lurch.
“Where’s my special breakfast, Reid?”
He groans and it reverberates through me. “I forgot I offered that.”
“No, youpromised. Since I so kindly shared my bed with you.”
Reid is sitting up now, but he has the spare pillow held tight over his hips. “Can I go shower?”
I stare at him. “When have you ever asked before? Just go.”
His eyes dart between me and the pillow. “Can you, uh,” he’s blushing, “turn around?”
It finally dawns on me, and I must seem so naive. I pace back and forth across the van thinking about how I have to wash those sheets tonight after the competition. There’s no way I’ll be able to sleep with his scent clinging around me.
A tiny elastic snaps against my thumb as I secure my second braid. Reid steps out with a white towel slung low on his hips. He stands behind me, so close I can feel the towel brushing the back of my leg. Heat is radiating off of him and onto me. I turn around to ask what he’s doing, but he cuts me off. “You should wear it down til we ride.”
He tugs both braids free and runs his big hands through my hair. “Hey! I just finished doing that.”
Reid shrugs. “I’m just saying. You look even sexier when you let that mane free.”
My heart skips a beat. Did he just call me sexy? Surely I misheard.
I decide to appease him and let my hair free. He disappears to his own van before I can reply. He’s half naked in the forest, wearing my slippers, which are way too small for him, and looking more at home than he ever has. I’m shamelessly admiring his perfectly toned back until I see him start limping again. Reid turns to the side, and I duck down before he can catch me staring. My eyes peek up under the edge of the curtain, and I see him lean down to look at his knee.
I knew it…his ACL is bothering him again. His last couple of rides make more sense now.
I’m going to try and bring it up during breakfast if I get thechance. It might re-open the rift between us, but I care more about his health than I care about my comfort.
I’ve been sobusy being anxious about Reid I’ve barely had time to let myself worry about the competition. Now that I’m here, my veins are pulsing, but the anxiety doesn’t hit like I expect it to.
Women are going first again today. My thoughts drift to Chloe as I ride the gondola up the mountain alone, but instead of letting her situation fill me with stress, I focus on my gratitude for being where she can’t. She keeps reminding me of it too, messaging me, “do a backflip for me Baddie,” before each ride.
I promised her I would try, so I do this time—and it works. It’s merely a practice run, so the pressure isn’t really on. We’ll see if I can do it when the drones are following me.
It’s the first time I’ve landed any sort of flip on a competition track. It feels good, better than good.
I’m determined to do it again. This is my last shot to prove myself before the season is over. I want to go out with a bang.
When my plate is drawn first, I’m ecstatic. I’ve learned I race better when I have less time to get tangled up in my head. My therapist is on leave this week. At first that had me panicking, but I’m grateful—I either do this on my own, or I don’t do it at all.
Something I’ve been doing lately is indulging my anxiety—letting myself play out the absolute worst case scenario. When I’m done, I remind myself how unlikely that scenario is, and then all the likely ones don’t seem so bad.
The fear isn’t going anywhere—if I want to do this, I have to learn to do it while scared.
I stand looking down at the trail, thinking about my bodymangled and busted in a hospital bed like Chloe. I think about going to sleep and never waking up again. Then, I think about making it down the trail and going home to Colorado feeling proud of myself. The risk is worth it, like it usually is.
