"I tried once in middle school, but it was pretty bad. I took out my middle school crush, Dillian, on the slope because I couldn’t stop. He ended up with ten stitches on his chin."
"Tragic. And then Dillian never spoke to you again?"
"No, he asked me to spring formal the next week at school. Apparently, we were both too shy to make the first move. Wiping him out on the slope was the icebreaker we needed. No pun intended."
I let out an unexpected chuckle, and then she smiles.
"And is he still waiting back at home for you?" I ask, not as smoothly as I normally am.
She stares back at me for a moment. "No," she says. "There’s no one waiting for me back at home."
I nod, and then we’re back on the top of the hill, ready for our second run.
I guide us through another turn, watching the way she moves with the mountain instead of against it. Natural athlete, once she stops overthinking.
On this run, she stops on her own when we reach the bottom. There’s no stumbling or panic.
She looks at her skis like they betrayed her by actually working.
"Oh my God… I can ski…" she trails off.
"I wouldn’t go that far, but there’s hope for you yet."
She reaches out and slaps my arm. "Very funny."
"Just don’t take me out on the slopes like poor Dillian."
"Why not? Chin scars are sexy."
"If you think scars are sexy, I have plenty I can show you."
I watch as she bites her lip. It’s unconsciously done, but I clock it.
"That’s probably not the best idea. I’m here professionally," she says, but I can tell that there is hesitation in her voice. "Thank you for today."
"We're not done."
"No?"
"Not even close."
She grins. "Then let's go."
On the lift back up, I noticed things I shouldn't.
The curve of her jaw where it disappears into her jacket collar. The way her eyes crinkle at the corners when she smiles for real, not just the professional smile she uses like armor. The small scar near her temple that I'd have to be very close to see properly.
Third run, I released her wrists earlier.
"Wait—" she reaches back immediately, fingers grasping for mine.
"I'm right here," I say quietly, staying close. "You don't need me to hold you."
"I definitely need you to hold me."
"No. You think you do. That’s a different thing."
She makes a frustrated sound, but she doesn't reach back again.
