The waiter rattles off options in English, knowing we are tourists. Without overthinking it, I ask for a Weizen beer in German. And, because my nerves are still doing slalom gates in my ribs, “And a Williams Schnapps, please.”
Both their eyebrows shoot up in perfect synchrony.
“Wow,” Eva says. “Emergency measures.”
“Was it that bad?” Anna asks, tone shading into concern. “Being stuck?”
“It wasn’t… ideal,” I say. “High entertainment value, though.”
They exchange a glance over my head. I know that look. It’s the one that says we’re worried, but we’re not sure if you’re ready to talk yet, so we’ll joke first.
“Poor thing,” Eva says, bumping my shoulder with hers. “Trapped above the trees in a tin can while the mountain tried to shake you off. Ten out of ten, would cry.”
“Are you okay?” Anna asks quietly. “That kind of thing can be really scary.”
The waiter sets the beer down, then the schnaps—pale gold in a little tulip glass with a little pear pierced with an Austrian flag. I wrap my fingers around it; the smell hits my nose, sharp and sweet.
“I mean, yes,” I say. “Scary. Wind. Creaking. Existential dread. The usual.”
They both nod, the way you nod when someone confirms your worst imagination. I take a breath, tip the schnaps back, and feel it burn a hot, clean line down my throat.
“But also,” I add, setting the empty glass down carefully, “remember how I said I could never ask a world champ for his dick?”
Eva chokes on her beer. Anna blinks.
“Zlata,” Anna says slowly. “Please tell me that sentence is not theoretical.”
“Turns out,” I say, feeling my mouth twist, “I can.”
Eva slams her glass down so hard some beer sloshes over the rim. “No. Absolutely not. You did not.”
I can’t help it; I start laughing. It comes out a little high, a little hysterical. “I really did.”
Anna’s eyes go huge. She glances around, then leans in so far her ponytail dips into the peanut bowl. “You did what, exactly? And please remember there are other people here when you answer.”
“We’re calling him sad, hot Austrian,” I say. “For… anonymity reasons.”
Eva fans herself with a napkin. “Sad, hot Austrian is in town, we know. That was the whole TED talk in the car, remember?” She lowers her voice, but not nearly enough. “Are you telling me you got stuck in a lift with him and then—” she makes a vague, obscene gesture with her hand “—asked for his—”
“Eva,” Anna hisses. “Volume.”
I press my lips together, trying not to grin and failing. “Look, if you wanted a calm, coherent debrief, you should have booked a spa, not a ski chalet full of tourists.”
“Zlata,” Eva says, abandoning the pretense of subtlety entirely. “Start from the beginning, or I am going to climb over and shakeyou.”
I take a long sip of beer, buying time. The first hit of alcohol settles the schnaps in my stomach, takes the sharpest edge off the adrenaline crash.
“Fine,” I say. “We got stuck. Just the two of us. Properly stuck. Wind, cabin swinging, the whole horror movie soundtrack.”
Anna winces in sympathy. “That sounds awful.”
“It was… intense,” I admit. “At first, it was just fear. Then we talked. About racing. His racing. My races.” I hear my own voice soften. “He actually listened.”
Eva props her chin on her hand, eyes gleaming. “Of course, he listened. You had him hostage.”
“No, I mean… he asked questions. Real ones. About the Czech Masters and edge angles and my stupid, tiny results. Like it mattered.” I stare into my beer for a second. “I’m not used to that.”
Anna’s expression shifts, something more careful moving in. “Not used to… being listened to?”
