Asking for science.
Ty
I twist my mouth to the side, eyeing our messages. "Our friends have so little faith in us."
"Should we give them what they want?" Charlie's eyes sparkle with mischief as she leans across the table. "Selfie time. Proof of survival."
I stretch my arm out, phone in hand. Charlie nestles against me, her cheek pressing into mine. The lingering chill from outdoors still clings to her skin, but it warms rapidly against mine. Strawberries and mountain snow mingle in my nostrils with each breath.
"Smile," I say, though we're already beaming.
After the click, we huddle over the screen, our foreheads nearly touching. The photo catches us in a moment of genuine connection—her smile reaching her eyes, while I've been caught mid-smile, my gaze fixed on her instead of the camera.
"That's actually... really good," she whispers, something vulnerable in her voice.
"Yeah," I murmur, feeling the air between us change. "It is."
Frank's return breaks our bubble. "So, what's next for you two lovebirds? Back to the slopes or calling it a day?"
I cock an eyebrow at Charlie, waiting.
"One more run?" She squares her shoulders with determination. "I want to see if I can repeat that last one without falling."
"That's the spirit, kid!" Frank slaps the table approvingly. "Always get back on the horse."
"Or in this case, the board," I add with a wink.
As we say goodbye to Frank and gather our gear to head back out, Charlie's fingers brush against my sleeve, lingering for a moment.
"Thanks for this morning. For being patient with me."
"Any time, Shortcake," I say, my voice softening. "Teaching you is actually the most fun I've had on the mountain in a long time."
The words settle between us, genuine and unplanned. Watching her wobble then steady herself, her face lighting up with each small victory—it takes me back to my first runs. Back when snowboarding wasn't about sponsorshiplogos or competition rankings, but about that weightless moment when you carve through fresh powder, your heart hammering against your ribs, the world reduced to nothing but wind and momentum.
Outside, the mountain air slaps our faces as Charlie strides ahead. Her shoulders squared beneath her gear, she navigates the packed snow with surprising grace—a natural resilience in every step despite her tumbles earlier. She glances back, catching me mid-stare, her eyebrow arching.
"Coming, Montgomery? Or are you afraid I might show you up this time?"
A laugh escapes me as I quicken my pace. "In your dreams, Shortcake. In your dreams."
Her pink jacket blazes against the endless white as she marches toward the rental rack, determination in every step. And something twists in my chest—because in my dreams, she's exactly like this: fierce, funny, unapologetically herself. This charade between us might be the most honest thing I've felt in years.
I can hear the fire crackling in the stone hearth in the living room as Charlie lays out the deck of UNO cards on the wooden table. After a day on the slopes—Charlie progressing from face-plants to actual snowboarding, both of us wind-whipped and exhilarated—we've showered and changed into comfortable clothes for a quiet evening in.
"UNO?" I ask, raising an eyebrow as she shuffles the cards with surprising dexterity. "Didn't peg you as a card shark,Shortcake."
Charlie's mouth quirks into that half-smile that always feels like a private joke between us. "There's a lot you don't know about me, Montgomery."
"Sounds like a challenge." I settle into the chair beside her, close enough that our elbows brush. She doesn't pull away.
Emily bounces into the kitchen, still flushed from her own day of skiing. "Oh my God, are we playing UNO? I'm in!"
"UNO?" Margaret pokes her head around the corner. "Remember how much fun you kids had last year?"
Charlie's eyes widen with alarm. "Mom, we're just—"
"The Harpers should join you!" Margaret continues, already disappearing back into the hallway. "I'll go fetch them from the family room!"
