Alara spirals in a 360-rotation, rushes down the hill, comes back up, and flies into a Cab 12 that makes me stand as shock skitters down my spine.
Who the fuck is this and what has she done to my sweet, calm Alara?
Ella es una chingona.
I give my head a little shake, only now noticing how wide my grin is because of the slight discomfort tugging at my cheeks.
Mesmerized, I watch as she does a front grab. To finish this off, she blows my fucking mind away by doing a Switch Frontside spin – but not just any trick. She executes with acute precision a Cab Double Cork 1080.
Holy shit, she’s astounding.
I cup my hands around my mouth. “Atta girl!” I shout, before giving her the praise she deserves by clapping.
My mind is blown.
I’m shocked, and pleasantly surprised.
I can feel the adrenaline rush through my veins, my heart ready to lodge inside my throat as I watch her come to a stop, a spray of snow dancing around her.
Unable to look away from Alara and her breathtaking smile as she tears off her goggles and helmet, I feel my hands tremble with unbridled excitement. The feeling pushing at my beating heart is one I can’t deny – pride. Finding me through the crowded place as the public cheers her on, Alara’s features brighten from elation to amusement, but, fuck, if the sight of her happiness doesn’t feel like I’ve been exposed to a bright light of sunshine.
Alara Bradford wears happiness like a crown, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything quite as beautiful as her.
We grant Alara second place, because she fucking deserves it. Had it not been for her missed landing after the Backside Rodeo, she would’ve won the gold medal.
But seeing her there? On the podium with her flushed cheeks and frazzled hair because of her helmet? It makes undeniable pride crash over me. Ever since I got to know her, I’ve always admired her down-to-earth demeanor, her calmer side that doesn’t overshadow her love for life, and her inspirationaloptimism. She’s ambitious and determined, which are qualities I find incredibly sexy. But seeing her run those slopes like she owns them? I’m still astonished. And I’m starting to believe that she’s hiding so much more beneath the golden-girl façade.
I have the honor of giving the top-three contestants their awards. Draping the bronze medal over Killian’s head, an eight-year-old local, I shake his hand and chuckle when he starts bouncing with excitement.
Some people treat me like I’m some Hollywood star, but I’m really not that great. I’m definitely not worthy of their admiration and praise.
Then, it’s Alara’s turn. I step into her orbit, my surroundings turning into a blur, and slide the lanyard over her head. The silver medal rests over her pink coat, a prize she has earned with grace, class, and effort. Delicately, my fingers brush the sides of her neck as I reach for her braid to untuck it from the yellow ribbon.
My stare lingers on her upturned lips, and the first thought that crosses my mind is that I want to taste them. Feel them.
Oh, no, no, no.
Ya valí.
“Congratulations, Miss Bradford,” I say gruffly, teasingly tugging on her braid before taking a step back.
“Thank you.” Her hazel eyes twinkle, but when she gives me that heartfelt, stunning smile, I feel my knees threatening to buckle underneath my weight.
I genuinely wonder when she’ll stop stealing my breath away. Even if she does it unwillingly, even if she hasn’t a single clue about the way she affects me, she rattles all my perfectly crafted plans. My control is on the brink of snapping, and with what she’s just proven to me, I think that, maybe, Alara and I could be great together.
I just have to allow myself to want it.
To be selfish.
But that isn’t an option. I’m leaving, and I’m not breaking her heart when I do.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
ALARA
“You have some serious explaining to do,” is the first thing Diego tells me when I join him, Gaby, and Jordan in front of the city hall.
For a brief moment, I’m distracted by the icicles and fairy lights hanging overhead, the loud laughter booming from the ice rink where the skaters get lost in circles, and the amount of people roaming around the town as they visit each stand at the Christmas market. But then, as though I can’t control this powerful pull toward Diego, I lock my gaze with his, and smile sheepishly.
