“Well, what?” I was adamant that I would not give her anywhere near the level of detail she gives me.
“More details! I need to know all about it.” I felt like Sandy in Grease.
“Let’s just say we need to buy another box of condoms.” I tried to be vague.
“But what about the other details? Are the rumours true?” Kayla pushed.
“What rumours?” I turned to her, too shocked to keep pretending I was cool about my fling with Jye.
“The ones about the size of his…” Kayla pulled her hands apart like she was talking about the size of a fish.
“Who talks about that?” The scowl growing on my face.
“Oh, honey,” Kayla looks at me sympathetically. “Everyone talks about it. His dad is Dougie Drake; he’s notorious for not being able to keep it in his pants, and people say it’s because he has a lot to share around. Women say that he might not look much like his dad, but he's inherited his dad’s biggest asset.” Kayla held her hands wide, emphasising the length of the asset we were talking about.
“Well, it was sufficient,” I replied, attempting to end the conversation.
“Just look at his nickname ‘Hot Lap’ Drake,” Kayla warned me. Jye had told me he didn’t do commitments, so finding out that there were rumours about him shouldn’t shock me. That didn’t stop me from pulling out my phone in the bathroom after Kayla left. I searched the nickname and found photos of women saying how much they enjoyed their ride with ‘Hot Lap’. I watched videos of picture-perfect women. Ones that were highly groomed and had slim, toned bodies. Women who looked nothing like me.
Swiping the browser off my phone, I placed it in my pocket and left that bathroom feeling colder than I had walking through the snow.
six
Jye
After she came back from the bathroom, things with Wynter felt odd. We ate, we made polite conversation, but the relaxed woman I’d walked into the restaurant with had gone. I should be fine with it. She’d had her fun, and now we’re stuck with each other until just after Christmas. From the beginning, I’d let her know I didn’t do commitments. I was open that this would be a fling, but the more time I spent with her, the more time I wanted to spend with her. It wasn’t just the sex, as amazing as it was; it was the in-between, the conversations, the snuggling, the taking care of her. Selfishly, I hadn’t had enough yet. I wasn’t sure if I ever would.
We walked back to the cabin together in silence. I itched to hold her hand or put my arm around her, but something told me she wouldn’t welcome the gesture. When we got back inside, she excused herself and went to the bathroom again.
“I think I’m going to sign up for some ski lessons,” she said as she came out.
“Sounds good, I’ll come with you,” I replied. I was acting like a lapdog, overly eager for his owner’s attention.
“Sure,” Wynter said with a panicked grin, her eyes looking like a deer in headlights.
We walked back to the resort reception, and we both signed up for the ski lessons, went into the guest shop to get outfitted; renting boots, skis and helmets. Then we waited. The concierge had told us the instructor would meet us in the reception area, so we sat in the armchairs near the fire. I longed to pull her onto my lap and kiss her.
A tall blonde man walked up to us and introduced himself as Conrad, our instructor for the afternoon. I watched as he flirted with her and she giggled at him. I scowled at his too-perfectly handsome face. He wasn’t much taller than me, but with his blonde hair and blue eyes, he looked good beside her. I didn’t have any right to feel possessive, but I did, and it shocked the hell out of me.
It was still snowing lightly as we walked up the gentle slope set aside for kids and beginners. I walked behind Wynter and was transfixed by the snow falling on the blonde hair that was sticking out from underneath her woollen beanie.
During the lesson, she relaxed again. She couldn’t ski, could hardly stay upright on the skis for long, but she was smiling again, and I wanted to ignore what it did to my heart. For the first time, I regretted telling a woman that I didn’t do commitments because with Wynter; I wanted to see where things went. I wasn’t about to drop down on one knee anytime soon, but I definitely didn’t want this to be a fling.
The ski lesson lingered; it felt like days had gone by as I’d watched the instructor flirt with Wynter and me. I was thankfulwhen he wrapped it up. I needed to get her back to the room, not only away from the instructor, but also so we could talk.
“Oh, can you take these back to the room? I was going to head to the bar,” Wynter said as she held up her skis.
“How about we both drop off our skis and I’ll come with you?” I replied.
“You don’t need to do this, Jye,” Wynter sighed. “You don’t have to pretend you like my company just because we shared a few orgasms.”
“Wynter, I’m not pretending,” I implored. “Not one thing about the last forty-eight hours has been fake.”
“Listen, Hot Lap,” she said the moniker like it was an accusation. “I get it. I was another woman who rode you over the finish line, but I can’t deal with this right now.”
Hearing the notorious nickname out of Wynter’s mouth shocked me. That part of my life was one full of regret, and part of the reason I was playing in the UK. I had hoped that I’d put it behind me, but obviously not.
“Can we just go inside and talk?” I didn’t want to make a scene with her, but I was desperate for her to know the full story.
