“It’s okay. It’s easier on the hill.” His brows dip together, nearly joining in the middle. “They went to the black diamonds. Maybe we should try a green?”
“Oh, no.” I almost scowl at the mere suggestion that I must start on the bunny slopes. I jab my poles into the snow to push myself forward. That helps the most, and I ski-waddle, pole-slide over until I’m finally next to him. “I can ski just fine. It’s this flat earth stuff that’s got me stuck.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, then.” He nods toward the lift, but his gaze stays locked on me, as if he’s daring me. “This is our ride. It’s an express to the top.”
“That sounds perfect.” I shuffle forward until I’m between the ropes.
He gives me a bit of a suspicious side-eye. “Do you remember how to get on a lift?”
“You just sit, right?” I eye the pairs of people already riding the lift, and it’s as simple as I remember it. The duo in front of us positions themselves in the line, and a chair comes up behind them, scooping them up. Now it’s our turn. I dig my poles into the snow and steadily push myself forward. The last thing I need to do is get beamed in the back with a ski chair. I make it to my spot just in time. The chair nudges at the back of my calves, and Noah and I sit, and take off for the sky.
This lift is faster than any lift I’ve ever ridden. In no time we are above the trees. Noah elbows me on purpose, speaking through a snicker. “Something tells me you are pretending to be a novice so you can blow dust at me as soon as we are at the top.”
“Nope.” I shake my head, laughing too. “That is not my plan. I’ve skied some, but not since middle school, and clearly, I forgot everything I thought I knew.”
“Oh, yes.” His head rolls back into the start of a nod. “I forgot. You always have a plan. What is it this time?”
“It’s just the basic plan.” I offer a teasing smile, even though my gut is feeling a little loopy from the chairlift swaying. “It includes not dying. Not hitting a tree. Not getting lost. Not ending up being the subject of one of those made-for-TV movies where some chick gets sucked into an avalanche and survives for three days while the whole town searches for her, and in the end is rescued by an adorable Husky.”
“Basic plans are so boring. They only focus on the bad things. You need to upgrade to the platinum plan. That’s where the good stuff happens.”
His tone is laced with so much flirtation, I can’t help but bat my lashes. “Do tell of this platinum plan.”
“Well, for starters, you could have fun.” He elbows me lightly and tacks on, “Or you might get to snuggle on the ski lift with a handsome date.”
“We aren’t snuggling.” I dart my eyes to the sliver of space that’s left between our bodies. It’s small but totally there—not that it would be bad to snuggle.
Would it be bad?
Heat rises to my face as I manage to reply, “We aren’t even touching at the hips.”
“Right, but that’s because you bought into the basic plan.” He wags his brows at me. “You need to think about upgrading the plan.”
“I do.” My voice is flat, concealing all hints that my heart is hammering in my chest. Everything about this flirty side of Noah makes me extremely aware of the fact we only have a tiny sliver of space separating our bodies.
“You do.” I wait for him to do a flirty look away, but he doesn’t even blink. His eyes hold mine in a way that’s more daring than friendly. I know what I’m doing. Two can play this game. I scootcloser to him, closing the gap between us, silently challenging him to read between the lines.
Nowhere on any planet does me being interested in Noah Miller make any sense. However, we are technically not rooted on the planet now—we are floating through the sky. So all my racing thoughts are totally fine.
Like how I want to know what it feels like to have his arms wrapped around me so badly, that I feel like I’m about to suffocate over here on my side of the ski lift without it. Clearly, it’s his fault because he’s the one who suggested snuggling in the first place. My body seems to sway, inching even closer to him as I hold my breath and wait for a cue from him to lean even closer.
He wears a mischievous grin as his gaze shifts down to my lips. A hurricane of spirals erupts in my gut but then ends abruptly when our lift jolts and noticeably slows, cresting to the top of the hill. I regretfully pull my attention from him to gather my poles in one hand and get ready to stand. A brittle laugh fueled only by nerves leaks from my gut. “Here we go.”
“On three.” He counts down at the perfect tempo so that as soon as he says three, we both stand to glide forward to clear the way.
I drop a giant sigh of relief that I didn’t fall, and I celebrate with a beaming smile. “Made it this far.”
He lowers his goggles, adjusting the straps to fit perfectly underneath his beanie. He looks like a professional. I take the regular sunglasses out of my puffer coat pocket, slip them on, and pretend to feel confident.
“If it’s okay,” he says while he straps in his other boot to his snowboard, “I’ll stay by you on this run until I know you got the hang of it.”
“Yeah.” I waddle-ski, pole-slide over to the side, mapping my path. The middle of the run looks the steepest with a big ditch that has huge dips. The side is banked and doesn’t drop as fast.“Like I said before . . . ” I inch toward the side and toss a look back at him to reassure him I know what I’m doing. “I was struggling because it was flat. Once I get on the slopes—”
It starts with a slip and a giant gust of wind.
