I have a headache.
“Kill me now,” I say as the snowmobile deposits me back at the top of the run so I can change into my third coat of the day. My legs are shaking, my arms are throbbing from holding onto the tow line as I get pulled back up the hill, and even if I blink, there’s two of everything unless it’s right in front of me.
Like Austin. He slides into my field of view, coming to a sharp stop as he smiles at me with flushed cheeks.
“Isn’t this fun?” he asks.
“Sleep would be fun.” I yawn. “Are we almost done?”
“Soon. And then...” His smile gets wider. Mischievous.
My throat goes dry. “And then?”
He waggles his eyebrows, leaning in close so no one else could hear. “I’m going to make you scream my name until you think it’s your own.”
I have to brace on my poles to keep from collapsing entirely.
“You’re a menace,” I say. “You can’t say things like that.”
He bites the tip of his tongue. “Why not? You think I can’t?”
I close my eyes and focus on steadying my breath. Thank god for the layers of outerwear I’ve got on, which at least hide my swelling cock from anyone’s notice.
Also, I have no doubt that Austin can and most likely will succeed on his mission, but I need sleep. We’ve all been booked for one extra day on the resort for today’s shoot, but first thing tomorrow I have to drive back to Quebec City, where the team has its training facility. The drive is four hours on mostly winding regional roads and no interstates. I need rest.
I must say that last part out loud, because Austin shakes his head, giving me the same weary look the makeup artist did earlier.
“I expected more from you, Zed,” he says, poking at my chest.
I swat him away. “Just a couple hours. A cat nap. You want me performing at my best, don’t you?”
His face is impossibly close to mine. As soon as anyone notices, the cat’s out of the bag. There’s no way we can hide what we’re about to do, not with the way Austin’s lips are millimetres from mine.
“Grimm! Berard! Enough with the staring contest,” Tara yells, glaring at us. She’s gripping the tablet that houses her master schedule of pairings and pictures to be taken. “Get changed and get ready for your last shoot.”
I could cry with relief. We shed our coats and pants, putting on the new ones given to us.
When it’s our turn, Tara says, “Okay. When you’re done, keep going down to the base. The van will drive you back to the resort.The concept for these shots is a race. You think you two dorks can manage that?”
Austin and I glance at each other, and suddenly all my exhaustion evaporates. If there’s one thing we can do even when we’re beyond exhausted, it’s race. We’ve been trying to conclusively prove who can get from the top of the mountain to the bottom fastest for thirteen years. No amount of fatigue can stop us. Not even when mixed with extreme horniness and the revelation my best friend is in love with me and I’m not at all freaked out about it.
When we get the signal, Austin and I push off. We hold back for the first few turns, waiting until we’re beyond the camera team, then we blow past the snowmobiles and Austin whistles. The sound is loud and sharp and it’s not a horn in a starting gate but it’s close enough. I lean into my boots, bending my knees. My muscles protest, but tough shit. It’s a race to the base and then to my bed. No way I’m coming last on this one.
The wind picks up as we fly down the trail. It’s not especially steep. Less pitch than the run we raced on yesterday. But it’s enough to pick up some speed, particularly in the places where the tall trees at the edges of the trail have kept the sun off the snow and it’s still packed hard. The trail is also narrower than a standard ski cross course, so even though there are half as many competitors, we’re still going to have to keep together if we want the fastest line. There are even some nice curves to keep it interesting.
“On your left,” Austin calls from behind my shoulder. The scrape of his skis is incredibly close.
“Fuck’s sake. This is a race, not a run down a lazy river. I know you’re—” But I don’t get to finish before he slides past me, whooping as he goes by. His posture is relaxed, hands held low, but ready to brace when the next turn comes. The trail gets narrower, the trees pressing in closer.
We come over a rise and he catches some air, and I follow half a second behind him. The world is silent, no scraping edges, no snow being thrown to the sides as we pass. Just the wind in my ears and, only slightly ahead of me, Austin’s heavy breathing, before we come down in fast sequence on the snow.Whap, whap. My knees and hips ache with the impact, still protesting all their overnight mistreatment. When we get to the bottom—no, whenIget to the bottom—and back to my room, I’m going to take the longest soak in the hot tub. Ideally with Austin, his ass firmly planted on my dick as I?—
I shake my head, pushing the thought away. No distractions. At this level of competition, it’s not really about who’s a better technical skier. It’s about who has the stronger focus and mindset. Letting your mind wander is a one-way ticket to fourth place.
There’s another curve in the trail coming up ahead. It’s even narrower than the ones we’ve been through. It’s the perfect place to take advantage and claim the lead. There’s a dip on the low side that should leave me a little room to ski by, and if I push Austin up as I go, he’ll have no choice but to swing toward the trail edge, losing ground and time.
He must see it too. I’m only a couple inches behind his shoulder, and his posture tenses, searching for milliseconds of speed that will keep him in front. I let off on my edges as we head for the turn. We’re really flying now. My body screams over every bump and jostle, but if I stay focused on the point ahead, where the turn lets out into a broad expanse that will lead to the base, he’ll have no chance of catching me.
We both lean into the turn. We’re so close I have to be careful where I put my uphill hand so I don’t hit his. I hit another snag where snow gives way to slick ice, and I push him higher than I mean to. Any farther up and I’ll be the one losing speedtoo. Hopefully he sees my grin as I blow past him, dropping my shoulder into the final curve and?—
