I give him a sharp, curt nod and head to face my opponent.
Mr. Bakshi and I are locked into automatic gates at the top of the 180-meter incline, hands gripping our poles, ready to launch ourselves forward the moment we’re released.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
The gates fly open and Mr. Bakshi flies out. I’m off by a second, but that could make all the difference in the world. I tuck myself, hands forward, elbows in, trying to pick up speed as the poles come at me. My vision sharpens. I go wide on the first turn, but make up for it on the second, swatting away the red pole as I pass it.
The wind whistles in my ears over the roar of blood and adrenaline pumping through me. Mr. Bakshi clears the third to last poles just before me and I push even harder. I can’t lose this. I won’t.
We’re neck and neck at the final stretch toward the finish line, so I stop looking at him and focus on the only thing I can control.
Myself.
28
Henri
Go Liam!” I scream his name as he rushes toward the line so loudly that multiple people look my way. Watching him on the initial drop sent my heart racing, and that was before I noticed he had fallen behind. But he closed the gap and it was glorious to watch.
He commanded so much power, his body pushing to reach its full potential. I can only imagine what it was like to watch him when he was younger.
Liam crosses the finish line, the blades of his skis swooshing across the snow. Just like that, I’m racing to him, feet pounding on the packed snow, because today I’m his girlfriend, and I want to share every ounce of joy I have with him.
“Folks, give us one minute to replay the footage and determine the winner for this final matchup of our first round,” an announcer says.
Security and cameras stand in the way for a moment, but June is there with a clipboard and tells them to let me pass. Liam’s just clicked out of his skis when I barrel into him and kiss himhard, my arms flying around his neck. It takes him a moment to clutch me to him and match his intensity.
“What’s all this excitement for? We don’t know if I won,” Liam says, breathless, as his mouth pulls away, giving me a clear view of the unbridled grin on his face as his arms still press me against him.
“I don’t care if you win. You were so . . . so . . .” I fumble for the right word. “Beautiful out there. And it seemed like you had a good time. I want to celebrate that.”
“Thank you for pushing me to do this.” He shakes his head, hair slick against his face, eyes glossy with wonder. “I forgot how close to flying you get when you’re moving that fast down a hill. Fuck. I feel it vibrating through me.”
The announcer’s voice returns. “Moving on to the next match up is Dulcet Point’s very own, Liam Hughes!”
The crowd erupts around us, but Liam doesn’t seem to notice, his attention fully on me. “Since you don’t care about me winning, does this mean I don’t get a victory kiss?” He cocks a brow and smirks.
“Oh shut up.” I wipe that smug expression right off his face as my lips meet his for everyone to see, garnering a new wave of cheers and a flurry of whistles from the crowd.
Liam and I watch the first round of the women’s matchups. Both Mrs. Wilson, Liam’s teammate, and Laura, make it on to the next round. He lingers for one of the men’s rounds, but has to get to the lift to prepare for his race against Kurt.
“I’m going to kick his ass,” he tells me before leaving. And there’s something deeply sexy about this confident side of him that sends currents of warmth rolling through me.
I make sure to reclaim my spot at the front to get a clear view of the action. My excitement almost,almost, makes me forget the cold. With gloved hands, I pull down the brown beanie tocover the tips of my ears. I couldn't find the red one Liam gifted me, but I'm sure it's just mixed up somewhere in my clothes.
“Cute hat,” Laura says as she saunters up beside me.
“Thanks. I watched your race; you killed it.” She did. It was obvious from the moment she and her opponent burst out of the gates that Laura was the clear winner.
“We’ll see how the rest goes. There’s some absolute monsters in the competition.” She huffs and rolls her eyes as the countdown beeps, marking the start of the next race. “Kurt won’t shut up about going up against them.”
“He’s not going to. Liam is going to take him out,” I tell her with absolute confidence.
“Maybe. Either way, we should all get a drink later and chat. I miss having you around. Like, seriously, it’s not the same. Is your number the same? I could text you and we could make plans,” she says, all so easily.
“You’re kidding me, right?”
Her brows pinch. “What? I thought—”
