“I’m done. They are on their own.”
By the time Charlie and I finish talking, the sun has disappeared behind the mountains, leaving the whole valley washed in deep twilight blues and golds. Fairy lights flicker on outside the chalet, and distant music drifts faintly from the village like the whole town is gearing up for a big night.
Charlie nudges me with his knee. “C’mon. Let’s go see what kind of trouble Callum is planning.”
Trouble arrives faster than expected. Callum barges into our room with a bottle of champagne under his arm and Baird peeking over his shoulder.
“Thank fuck I didn’t walk in on you two. I love you, bro, but I don’t need to see that.” I shake my head at his antics. “Right. The party starts now,” Callum declares.
Charlie looks at the bottle, then at Callum. “We said we’d pace ourselves.”
“We will,” Callum promises, opening the bottle with no warning. The cork flies and hits the ceiling, Charlie flinches, Baird cheers.
Absolute menace.
“You’re both terrible influences,” I mutter, even as I accept a glass.
“Correct.” Callum clinks his glass with mine. “And you love us.”
Shit. He’s right.
Zermatt at night is … wild. I don’t mean frat-party wild. I mean, rich European ski crowd losing their minds in designer snow gear wild.
We step out into the crisp night, snow falling like glitter. Music pours from every bar, people spill out into the streets, drinking Aperol spritzes like it’s summer instead of -10 degrees. Baird leads us straight into a packed après-ski bar with wooden beams, neon signs, and hanging cowbells. Inside smells like mulled wine and cologne. The second we walk in, Callum throws his arms out like he owns the place.
“My lads!” he shouts to no one in particular.
People actually cheer back.
“Is he famous here?” I whisper to Baird.
“He wishes.” Baird laughs. “He just acts like he is.”
We wedge ourselves into a booth and order drinks, Charlie and I sticking to one each, Callum and Baird ordering … significantly more plus shots.
Charlie presses close against my side, lips brushing my temple when he leans in to speak over the music. “One shot.” I nod when we are offered one and throw it back. I’ll need food in my stomach before we drink anymore, otherwise it’s going to get messy rather quickly. Thankfully, it’s not long till a pot of fondue ends up in front of us.
It’s still early, but there are skiers dancing on tables. A guy wearing only ski pants and goggles.
“I feel like we’re in a fever dream.” I laugh
A DJ starts playing a remix of Auld Lang Syne, and suddenly Callum is dragging us toward the dance floor.
“Come on! Live a little!”
“I am living,” I protest, but Callum’s already grabbing my hand.
We dance like idiots, Callum grinding on everyone, Baird doing some Scottish jig, and Charlie swaying behind me with his hands on my waist. I’m laughing so hard my stomach hurts. At one point, a group of drunk British guys try to pull Callum into a human pyramid, and we lose him for a full seven minutes before he emerges soaked in beer but triumphant.
“I’ve made new friends,” he announces proudly.
“They’re not coming back to the chalet,” Baird warns immediately.
“Baird,” Callum gasps dramatically, “let me have community.”
“Tomorrow night it’s game on,” Baird tells him.
“Fine,” Callum grumbles.
