Clem laughed. “It’s the best way to learn.”
I gulped, but there was no way I was wimping out on Clem. Skiing and skating were totally different in terms of technique, but the feel of the wind, the cold air in my throat, and the sound of skis on snow weren’t so different from my skates cutting through ice. It was easy to see why people loved it.
We took the gondola to the top of the mountain and then got onto a contraption called a T-bar. A stretchy piece of rope attached to a metal piece with two flat, hard seats, shaped like a T, tugged us up the mountain. “I think this is scarier than skiing.” The only thing separating us from the lift path and drop-off cliffs was a flimsy piece of orange snow fence.
“They’re going to put in a chairlift to the top.” Clem’s sigh was obvious.
“Is that a bad thing?” I asked. My quadriceps were starting to burn.
Her goggles sat on the top of her helmet. She turned tolook at me with a mischievous sparkle in her eyes. “This keeps the beginners off the top.”
“Clem.” My heart was already pounding, but the beats stepped up a notch. “I am a beginner.”
She winked. “You’ll be just fine. The snow is too good not to come up here.”
We successfully dismounted from the leg-burning death lift and I peered over the side of the run. “What’s this one called?” I strained to look at the trail sign. The only thing I could see were the black diamonds.
“It’s called Wolverine Way.”
“Great,” I muttered. “I liked the names of the runs we were on this morning.” We had spent the better part of the morning pizza and French-frying down runs called Powder Puff and Big Bird.
Clem put her goggles on her face and then elbowed me. “But the locals call it Widowmaker.” She cackled and then skied away, her orange jacket moving across the run in a gracefulSpattern. She stopped way down the steep slope and waved at me.
My poles creaked as I dug them into the hard snow at the top of the run. My legs were shaking. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been so nervous that my body trembled. Actually, I could, sitting with Evie had done it to me—but those kinds of nerves were different. Those wereholy shit, this girl is so fucking amazingnerves, and the ones presenting at the top of Widowmaker were theholy shit, you might diekind. I much preferred the Evie-induced shakes.
The first turn was scary, but as I executed the second, Clem’s words ran through my mind. I shifted my weight and the turn was effortless. I did it again, and again, and by the time I reached my instructor, I was linking turns together.
Clem’s braids bounced as she hopped up and down on her skis. “I knew you’d get it.”
“It’s so much fun!” My cheeks hurt from smiling. “That’s exhilarating. It’s like skating, but not like skating at all.”
“There’s nothing better.” Clem punched my arm with her glove. “Almost nothing.” She said the second part quieter. Clem was an incredible woman for her age—no, scratch that, she was incredible full stop. I followed her to the bottom of the mountain, her braids streaming out behind her.
“You’ve got it, kid.” She opened her arms wide and I squeezed her in a tight hug. “Do you want to keep going? I’m teaching another newbie this afternoon.”
I could see why people were so addicted to the sport. “I would love that. If I won’t be interrupting your lesson, that is.”
“It will be easier with the two of you. And, you can show her what’s possible in one day.”
Her.
“Who are you teaching this afternoon?”
Clem waved her pole in the air. “There she is. It’s Evie from the inn.”
She was easy to spot, the sun glinting off her shiny jacket and practically burning my retinas. On closer inspection, it wasn’t a jacket, it was a full-piece purple snowsuit. I instantly regretted agreeing to stay for the afternoon. Could my heart take an afternoon of skiing? Could my body handle being squished next to Evie on chairlifts? Or, was it the other way around? Could my body handle the skiing and my heart the girl?
It was too late to back out now. Clem and I waited while Evie got her rental skis and I tried to think of an excuse to get out of the afternoon of skiing. Plenty of girls watched me play hockey, and I didn’t give it a second thought. As I fumbled with my skis and poles as Evie strode toward us, I realized it was because I was…good at it. I wouldn’t have cared if Evie showed up at the Chance Rapids arena to watch the Christmas games. Not one bit. The fans and screaming all disappeared once the puck was dropped.
Today, a five-year-old had beat me down Big Bird and laughed when I crossed the tips of my skis. If I thought my heart rate was high following Clem down Widowmaker, it was nothing compared to the thudding that echoed in my ears underneath my ski helmet anticipating a day with Evie.
“Hi, Nick.” Evie’s eyes sparkled beneath the brim of her helmet. “Now I know why you missed breakfast.”
Evie had the weirdest fashion sense I’d ever seen. I was starting to wonder if she shopped exclusively at senior citizen’s thrift shops. It didn’t matter to me, the confidence in which she wore the batshit crazy clothes made my dick hard. She could cut holes in a garbage bag and make it look good.
My stomach grumbled. “What was on the secret menu today?”
“Come on, you two. Stop yip-yappin’.” Clem waved her arm and practically sprinted to the gondola. Evie’s cheeks went as pink as the pinstripe running down the side of her purple snowsuit.
