“You’ll be fine.”
We get on a lift, and as it takes us up, up, up, my hands start to shake at the thought of going down one of these hills. I distract myself with the vast beauty of the empty mountain and the way the sunlight makes it glow.
“You probably shouldn’t have talked to my grandfather,” Asher says as we make our way to the top.
“Why? I was just trying to be nice.”
“Because when our fake relationship is over he’ll just be disappointed in me for dropping the ball.”
I don’t have any snarky remarks for that. “I’m sorry.” He doesn’t say anything else as he helps me off the lift and we’re at the top of a very steep hill. “Oh my god, Asher, no.”
“It’s a blue square; it’s intermediate.”
“What makes you think I’m an intermediate skier on literally day two?”
“Because on day two you’re with me.” I half think he’s going to set me up and give me a hard push down the mountain to see how it goes, but he stands in front of me. “Okay, show me what Jacques taught you yesterday.” I stand with my feet hip-width apart and bend my knees slightly. “Okay, not terrible.” He adjusts me slightly. “Ready?”
“No.”
“Perfect.” He puts my goggles down over my eyes and grabs my hands, pulling me to the edge. “Bend your knees. We’re going to go down with me in front of you and you can practice just sliding and breaking. Did you learn that yesterday?”
“More like sliding and breaking my legs,” I mutter. But he takes my hands, which are gripped around the poles, as we start down the hill.
“Bend your legs more,” he says. I do and immediately lose my balance, falling on my ass. He continues to slide backward until he motions his skis into a backward V shape and comes to a halt. “This is going to be a long morning.”
“This was your idea,” I grumble, getting back up. He gets in front of me again, holding on to me as we slide down the mountain a little farther, him keeping his skis in that V motion and using his arms to hold me out in front of him, keeping us from going at a fast pace.
“Okay, I’m going to let go of your hands and you’re going to balance,” he says. He lets go and I use the poles and my weight to balance like Jacques taught us yesterday, but I pick up too much speed and crash into Asher. He holds on to me as he tries to bring us to a stop, but I lose my balance, once again landing on my assas he lets go of me and moves out of the way. “It’s okay, get up.” We still have a long way to go to get down this hill.
After about five more times of falling and one time bringing him down with me, both of our patience is wearing thin.
“Okay, there you go,” he says. “You’re doing it!” This is the longest I’ve been able to stay upright, and Asher takes his skis out of the V formation to slide down backward ahead of me before turning to slide down next to me, and I realize there is nothing in front of me to slow me down now if I need it.
“Whoa.” I start to pick up speed. “Okay, I want to slow down.”
“Pizza,” he says from beside me.
“Pizza?” I’m confused and panicking.
“Put the skis in a V, like a pizza!” He goes to show me the motion and I’ve been watching his backward V form all morning and it’s the first thing that comes to mind, but that only sends me flying backward and spinning down the mountain. When I stop moving I lie in the snow, staring up at the sky, trying to catch my breath. My entire backside hurts from falling on it today and yesterday. Asher stops beside me and sighs. “I said pizza.”
“I heard you.”
“Then why didn’t you do it?”
“Because this is my second time ever skiing and I don’t know what I’m doing.” I stay on the ground, afraid that if I get up I’ll have to start again. My thighs are burning, and my feet are throbbing.
“If you would just listen to what I’m telling you to do, this would get done quicker. You’re hardheaded and you never listen,” he says, and it makes me feel like he’s talking about more than just skiing.
I sit up. “I never listen? You’re the one who is constantly pushing me into things I don’t want to do, even when I say no.”
“Because I’m trying to help you!”
“Help me? No, you’re trying to help you! And you’re so mean.”
“Mean? What is this, third grade?”
“You are the biggest asshole I’ve ever met. I don’t know why we’re doing this at all. I never wanted this,” I yell back.
