Kieran doesn’t reply, just nods. I can’t tell how he’s feeling because he’s wearing his ski goggles.
We start Kangaroo’s Ramble and when we reach our first curve down the route I realise I forgot to teach Kieran how to turn. “Just…put pressure on one leg,” I say, except I can tell that I’m not making sense. It’s really hard to teach someone when skiing is something that’s natural to me by this point.
Sometimes groups of ski-school kids will pass by, following their ski instructor, like a line of ducklings following their mother. Kieran will stare after them, his mouth a straight line. Those kids make it look so easy.
When we finish the route, an hour later, I lead Kieran off to the side, nearby a copse of trees. “We can take a break. I know it’s hard.”
He takes his goggles off and wipes the bridge of his nose. “No, it’s fine. I can do it again.”
I take my goggles off, too. “You sure?”
“Yeah, let’s do it.”
*
In the late evening, as the sun sets, Kieran and I walk back to the lodge, our skis in our arms. Kieran’s face is pink with exertion, but other than that, he has a triumphant air about him.
I have to give props to him. He must have fallen on his ass about a hundred times, and yet still didn’t give up. When we stopped for lunch, he jiggled his leg the whole time, like he was impatient to get out on the snow again.
If I were him, I would have gotten frustrated after the first fifteen minutes. I’m used to being good at everything on the first try, and if I’m not, then I think it’s not worth continuing.
At the lodge, we drop our skis off in the storage room, which is located in the basement of the lodge. Afterwards, we walk down a hallway and Kieran points at a wooden door with a tub symbol carved in the centre.
“This is the hot tub, right?” Kieran asks.
“Yeah,” I say. “I’m going after this.” There’s nothing better than relaxing your muscles in steaming water after a long day of skiing.
I thought if I announced it, Kieran wouldn’t come too. But when we return to our room, Kieran fishes out a pair of swim shorts from his suitcase. Senior must have told him about the hot tub in advance.
I think about saying something likewhat the hell do you think you’re doing?Orstop following me. Or the more simplego away. In the end it’s too late, and we’re walking through the hot-tub room, where the walls, floor and roof are made of wooden planks. The surface of the water in the hot tub is covered with bubbles. Thankfully, there’s no one in it.
We get changed in the connected bathrooms. I finish first, and get into the hot water, choosing the far corner for myself. In my periphery, I watch Kieran come to the room and approach the opposite corner. When he sinks into the water, he makes a sound that’s a mix between a moan and a sigh.
I grit my teeth. Fuck’s sake.
I should have said something. I don’t want to sit here, alone with him, where both of us are wearing nothing but swim shorts. What if I look at his chest, and he teases me again, like he did at school?
I sneak a glance. His head is tipped back, eyes closed, and his is skin looks so smooth, but the muscles underneath look so hard. I wonder what it’d be like to dig my fingers into his biceps, or touch his abs or bite into his shoulder —
“How’s your hand?” Kieran asks, and I almost jump.
What the heck is wrong with me? My sex problem must be extremely severe if I’m resorting to perving on him. Oh god. I’m getting hard.
Kieran lifts his head and opens his eyes, staring at me. I don’t understand what he wants until I remember he asked me a question.
“Huh?” I ask.
Shit, I can’t believe I’m hard. I glance down, but my erection is covered by the bubbles. Thank the lord.
“Your hand. Is it bruised from last night?” Kieran’s eyes follow my gaze, before meeting mine.
I glance away and check my hand, even though I know it’s not bruised. I may have been exaggerating a tiny bit last night.
“Well?” Kieran rests his elbows on the edge of the tub on either side of him. It’s impossible not to notice him, not when he’s putting his whole body on show.
“It isn’t,” I snap. Why is he asking me this? And why does he have to sit right in front of me, with his skin all shiny and his hair a sexy mess?
“I was just asking.”
