But when he replies, roughly and seriously, “Except you,” I don’t know how to react. How to feel.
Focusing on the heat seeping from the cup cradled between my hands and not the way our thighs are now touching, I say, “I know you have questions, so ask away.”
He makes a noncommittal noise. “How many do I get?”
“I’d say one, but that wouldn’t be fair on you.”
“You don’t get to give mejustone shot at getting to know you better. That’s cruel.”
“Exactly. So, ask anything that comes to mind.”
“Anything?”
I hold his gaze. “Anything.”
His eyes drop to my mouth – subtle, fleeting, but there, and enough to cause my heartbeat to speed into overdrive. “That’s a dangerous thing to say to me, Alara.”
“Good thing I like taking risks, then,” I murmur.
Diego takes a drink of his hot cocoa, nodding. “Alright. When did you start snowboarding?”
“I think I was around three or four. Like most kids who grow up here.”
“You’ve only started to compete in the amateur tournament recently, right?”
It’s my turn to nod. “About five years ago. It was always something I looked forward to when I came home for the winter break.”
“I love that.” He smiles down at his lap, shaking his head. “Iwas really surprised to see you out there. Why didn’t you tell me?”
Timidity creeps up the back of my neck. “I wanted to surprise you. Did it work?”
“You have no idea,” he replies, with an exhale, amazement dripping from every syllable. “But, to be honest with you, I was impressed way before seeing you in that halfpipe.”
“You’re a flirt.”
He winks. “You love it.”
“Possibly.”
With his arm draped over the back of the bench, he continues to twirl a strand of my hair between his fingers, like he’s enthralled. “Would you want to be a ski or snowboard instructor for the rest of your life?”
I take some time to gather my answer by taking a small sip of the hot drink. “I don’t know. I’m only doing this now because the job will tide me over until I figure everything out. And, don’t get me wrong, I love giving those lessons, but I don’t think it’s my calling. I like to think of it as a stepping stone that’ll help me achieve what I’m meant to do in the near future.”
“That’s fair. I love your way of thinking – it’s super sexy.” There’s a small pause as he studies my features. Slowly. Carefully. Like he wants to take his time and remember every detail of my face. The shape of my brows. The specific shade of my irises. The slope of my nose and the way the tip is slightly upturned. The heat coloring my cheeks thanks to his praise. The fullness of my lips. With a simple sweep of his gaze, he makes me feel beautiful. “Would you move out of Blue Ridge if there was a job interesting enough for you to take?”
“Sure,” I reply, without missing a beat. “But I don’t want to jump at the first opportunity and regret my decision after a month or so.”
People make it seem so easy – go to college, find a job, startyour career – but nothing about making a decision about your life is easy. Maybe I’m wasting my time by staying here and asking myself questions, maybe I’m doing something wrong, but I’ve always promised myself I’d live a life I love, and so I’m going to take it slow and easy for the time being.
He sets his drink on the bench behind him, rubbing his stubbled jaw with a hand. “I get that. You know what I like about you?”
“My sharp tongue?”
A laugh rumbles in his chest. “Definitely my favorite thing. No, seriously, I like that you know what you want.”
I narrow my eyes. “How is being confused about my future knowing what I want?”
“You want to think about yourself and your well-being. You want to find a career where you can see yourself in five, ten years from now. That’s admirable.”
