A perfect score. I need a perfect score to make it to the final.
Something I’ve been dreaming about for over a decade, since I started skiing in the first place. It devastated me to not make the cut last season, and to fail so catastrophically that it took me off the ski hill for the past year.
Tearing my ACL was a massive set back, and despite all the distractions today, my competitive streak blazes within me, steely determination locking in.
“What if I can land a Big Earner?” I suggest, knowing that neither Dan nor Mark are going to be on board with this idea. The “Big Earner” was what we coined the trick I was working on last year, the triple misty, before everything went to shit.
I almost did it. Ididdo it. Then the landing took me out, wrecked my knee, and just about destroyed the remainder of my career.
Dan lets out a whistle, his eyebrows raising in disbelief that I even suggested it. Mark is already shaking his head.
The move involves a series of three off-axis turns, and only the best of the best have been able to nail it. But Iamthe best of the best.
“On that knee?” Marks eyes flick down to my leg as he points to it. “You’ll be looking at early retirement as soon as tomorrow.”
“Come on,” I say. “It won’t be that bad.”
I bounce on my legs to show that they’re still just as nimble as before my injury, but the motion causes a sharp twinge behind my knee that makes my jaw clench to keep from wincing.
“It just about ended your career last year, and you were in perfect shape going into it,” Mark reminds me. “We stick to the original plan. You do the trick we talked about, the one you’ve done a million times. You know how to land it perfectly. It’s your best shot to get to the final.”
“I agree,” Dan chimes in again. “Now is not the time to be pulling any stunts. If you want to go to Zermatt, you need to play it safe.”
I scoff to myself, but Dan notices.
“I mean it this time, Jett. No fuckin’ around. I know that’s hard for you.”
“Got it, Boss.” I wink at him as I stand from the table and pick up my towel. I dab it against my forehead before slinging it over my shoulder.
What Dan fails to recognize, is that I’m not messing around either. It’s just that I’ve never been known for playing it safe.
The king-sized bedis too big, and too empty, after the night I spent with Poppy. Her apartment is much smaller than my house, and her bed is too, but I don’t mind it. I like being near Poppy. Something about being close to her makes me feel warm, comfortable. A feeling I haven’t had around anyone, let alone a woman, in a long time.
Even more out of character for me, was the fact that we didn’t have sex last night. We slept next to each other, Poppy’s head on my chest and my arms around her, but I didn’t make another move.
Not that I didn’t think about it. God, the thought of getting Poppy naked again, running my hands over every inch of her soft, pale skin kept me awake all night. It’s a wonder I was able to do anything in the gym today.
There was just something so beautiful about being the first person to make her come like that. To teach her how to care for her body in such a natural and primal way. It makes me want to show her everything. It just wasn’t the right time last night.
I’m not normally one to take things slow. The girls I bring home want it all, and they want it now, and I give it to them. And then they leave.
I don’t want Poppy to leave.
More than that, I want her to go at exactly her pace. If that means that we never actually have sex at all, I’m okay with that. I would be tortured by the memory of her perfectpussy for the rest of my goddamned life, but I could learn to make peace with it.
A knock on the door pulls me out of my thoughts, and I have to adjust my boxers around my hard on as I walk to answer it.
When I crack the door open, all that’s outside is my bag of takeout, which I grab and quickly retreat before anyone can catch me with my massive erection tenting my boxer briefs.
I lay back down on the smooth, white duvet, leaning against a pillow on the headboard, and remove the takeout container from the bag. My mouth waters at the smell of the Pad Thai. It’s my pre-event ritual at this point, and the first bite is almost enough to make me forget the dangerous feelings I’ve been having about Poppy.
Almost.
Because they’re back in full force the second I look down to see my phone light up with her name on the screen.
I click open the text message, my pulse thrumming in my ears even though my entire blood volume is in my cock.
POPPY
