I love being the one who’s able to make her blush like this.
Twenty minutes later, we meet by the front desk, and she eyes the young adult romance books in my basket with amusement. “Decided to explore a new genre?”
“Ha ha. They’re for Val. If I wanted to read some romance or smut, I’d have just everything I need at your place.”
“True. If you want to learn a thing or two, I have some really kinky books.”
One of my brows lifts in bafflement. “You think I need those?”
“I’ll give you my opinion after ourdate,”she jests back, determination shining in her gaze.
Fuck me. I’ve honestly hit the jackpot with this woman.
I extend the basket toward her. “Give me your books. I’ll pay for those too.”
“What?” She takes a step backward, frowning and cradling the books tighter. “No.”
“Please? Let me buy you the books, Alara. Or we can go back to the lingerie store and get you a couple of other sets.” I want to do nice things for her – I’ve always wanted to. She’s finally accepted that I’ll buy her coffee and lunch, and maybe paying for her books and clothes is a bit too intimate for our casual relationship, but I can only have her for a limited time. I plan on spoiling her because she deserves it. She’s been looking after me since I got here; it’s about damn time I return the favor. “You’re mine for only a few weeks, and I take care of what’s mine. So let me pay for those.”
A swirl of emotions veils her pretty eyes, and I’m not sure I can read them – affection, admiration, maybe a bit of hurt too; as if the idea of me leaving is shattering her heart. But she conceals everything with a blink and, a moment after, a devastating smile touches her lips. “Thank you.”
Part of me wishes I could give her more – because that’s what she deserves. She’s worthy of a burning red kind of love, a sky full of bright stars, a large field of vibrant flowers. I really wish I could make her happy like this, but I can’t. Not in this lifetime. But in the short amount of time that I can have her, I’ll give her a taste of what she deserves. After me, she won’t lower her standards – that’s a guarantee.
And I’ve already said it: if I get to make Alara smile every day, I’ll do just about anything to see her happy.
I can’t sleep.
I’ve been awake for the past two hours, and the only thing on my mind is snowboarding.
Every time I close my eyes, I see myself on my board, that dull ache in my chest expanding and shifting into a throbbing sensation.
Every time my mind starts drifting toward a peaceful state, my body protests. I twist and turn, unable to find the perfect position to go back to sleep.
It’s a little bit after five in the morning. All I can think of is the way Dr Ellis planted false hope inside my head, and, now, I want to snowboard. He said we’d see how things go next week – but he always says that, and if he keeps going at this rate, I’ll never be able to test the waters to see how my body reacts to riding again.
Telling me I’m nearly ready to go back to training cemented something deep in me – determination, a need to prove myself.
And that’s exactly why I whisper, “Fuck it,” and get out of bed.
I rub the sleep, or rather the lack thereof, from my face.I’ve been feeling confident lately. Been feeling like my body’s demanding one thing, and it’s to hit the slopes again. I’ve been driving myself crazy for the past month by abstaining and being a good man, but my frustration is about to explode. I need to do something about it. Need to relieve it.
After quietly getting ready and inhaling a protein bar, I get out of the house, my snowboard tucked under my arm, and start the long walk toward the resort.
This board isn’t the one I train with – I left it in Utah – but it used to be my personal favorite as a teenager. I’ve kept all the boards I owned and used safely stored at Mom’s house. It’ll do for now. I don’t plan on doing any crazy shit either.
It’s still dark out, and the cold air instantly awakens me. That, and the adrenaline pumping through my veins at the idea of what I’m about to do.
The snow crunches under my boots, the otherwise empty street lit by lamps that help me find my way. A few cars drive past me – people leaving for work, early enough to avoid traffic. Passing in front of Alara’s street, I mutter a cuss under my breath and pull out my phone to text her and let her know to meet me at the resort for our morning lesson, instead of waiting for me to show up at her place.
I know she won’t ask questions.
That’s what I like about her – she gives me space but lets me know that she’s there if I need anything at all. I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone like her before – selfless and kind but with a ferocity and tenacity I can’t help but admire.
Here I am, already thinking about her.
So much for focusing on myself and my recovery.
Alara Bradford just had to march into my life and tilt my orbit on its axis.
