“What?” I ask, because I remember his win clearly, but Ray also shakes his head and asks the question again.
“If Cedric weren’t on the national team, what would he do for work?” Chantale asks Austin.
“Trick question!” Austin says confidently. “He has no backup plan. He says it keeps him competitive.” He snatches up the goggles and runs.
I shake my head, trying to focus, thinking back to that first win. It was in France, two years ago. We were there with Matthieu and he took us to a?—
“No!” I say. “It was in Switzerland.” Talk about a trick question. Officially, the town we stayed in was in France, but the resort was massive and the part where we competed was actually on the Swiss side of the Alps.
Ray smiles and hands me the goggles. Austin is already fumbling with his mascot, trying to get the goggles to stay on over the flimsy cardboard. He’s running back before I’m even halfway to mine.
“Gotta pick it up, Zed,” he calls as we pass, so close we nearly brush shoulders. I’m breathing hard and the chill in my legs and feet has disappeared. My blood is pumping and the thrill of competition—even ridiculous family-friendly social media competition—has my focus sharpening with every step. Just because I’m behind now doesn’t mean I’m out of it. Races can always change.
“What is Cedric’s favourite way to stay active in the off-season?” Chantale asks.
“Oh, that’s too easy!” I call as I turn to run back.
“Mountain biking.” Austin says, taking one of the gloves offered by the PA.
I need a backup plan. If they’re going to softball him like that, I’ll never win. Without really thinking about it, I rush to Austin’s mascot, ripping the hat and goggles from its head and throwing them into the snow.
“Hey!” Austin calls. “No cheating.”
“It’s not cheating,” I say as my feet slip in the downhill rush. “No one said anything about not interfering with the other person’s mascot.”
“It’s true,” Ray says, laughing. No doubt they didn’t even think about it, but if it makes good content, they’re going to run with it.
As I go to pass Austin on my return, for a second it looks like he trips. I slow, because no way can he get hurt in this ridiculous game days before competition, but as I do, he pops up again, hands full of fluffy snow, which he throws in my face.
“Dude,” I say, laughing. Snow slides under the collar of my coat, burning against my skin. I’m so caught up in trying to get it out, I don’t see Austin running for me until it’s too late. His arms wrap around me and he tackles me to the ground. The snow cushions the impact, but there’s still an entire man sprawled on top of me.
“Get off,” I say, but I’m laughing. No idea if the microphone will pick it up, or if Austin’s jacket bunched up against mine will block the sound. I squirm, rolling us towards the side of the area where the snow is even deeper.
“No. No, no!” Austin’s laughter rings out in the cold. I make sure to stuff a few handfuls of snow into his coat for good measure. He grabs hold of my wrist, trying to stop me, and we freeze, staring at each other. Somewhere close by, the shutter of a professional-grade camera clicks, but I only have eyes for Austin. His gaze is clear, cheeks pink and, even in all his outerwear, suddenly I’m back in bed with him, all those months ago, watching his open expression as he promises me forever.His breath puffs up towards me in little clouds from the cold, and his lips part, like he’s about to say something we definitely don’t want the masses to hear.
I vault back up to my feet, taking him with me as I brush the snow off his coat. His expression clouds, and he doesn’t return the favour, which leaves me to shake the snow away on my own.
Chantale and Ray are standing by the tables with their remaining ski gear, but the glance they give each other is uneasy. I check Austin again, but he’s watching something off to his left and clears his throat.
“We’ll call it a tie!” I shout with a smile. The two hosts nod eagerly.
“The two of you certainly have some...” Chantale pauses, like she can’t quite think of the right word. “Chemistry.”
Yeah. We do. We did. Austin knows me better than anyone else in the world, even the parts he’s forgotten.
“Do you have all the footage you need?” Tara asks, glancing up from her phone. “I have to get them back for practice.”
We film a quick wrap-up where the hosts thank us for playing and wish us luck. Just like our arrival, Austin and I don’t talk as Tara leads us back through the media centre and toward the waiting van. The air between us has changed and when I get into the van first, Austin follows me, so that I have no choice but to let him sit next to me when he joins me in the back row.
“You okay?” he asks as we pull out of the parking lot.
“Of course,” I say, though my reassuring smile feels stiff on my face. “You’re lucky you chose ski cross. You’d have never made it in football.”
He laughs softly, pulling his black and red Canada-branded toque off to scratch at his head.
“Are you okay?” I ask and the question feels heavy on my tongue.
His smile turns wry. “Why wouldn’t I be? I tackled you, remember?”
