“To make him admit he wants me.”
“And did he?”
“Nope,” Vox says with a smile.
“Then why are you acting so smug?” I laugh.
“Because he will. He just thinks he can’t…or shouldn’t. We haven’t known each other long, not personally at least. But I’m just getting started, and I always get what I want. He may not have said the words, but his abrupt exit told me everything I needed to know.”
“Bro, I’m so confused,” I tell Vox as he raises the bar and prepares to exit the lift. “Why shouldn’t he have a thing for you?”
“Because he’s my coach, and that’s a big no-no,” he says with a wink. “Have a good run! And don’t forget your reservations!” he yells, pointing to the right, where an absolutely incrediblestructure sits. Made entirely of wood, stone, and glass, this placescreamsDamon Landry.
God, I bet they even do that thing where they pour your wine, you sniff and swirl it, and then pretend likeit’ll do, even though it’s the best fucking thing you’ve ever tasted.
There are no ski boots allowed inside, so the maître d’ is outside in one of those puffy, full-body down parkas. I almost feel sorry for him, but when I look over my shoulder to see if Vox has taken off, I get a load of the view behind me for the first time, andholy shit.
You can see for miles. Hundreds of them. Snow-capped peaks of mountains in different ranges are visible from up here. The base village is barely identifiable. It’shighup here. Likereally high. But the mountaintop itself is so wide and flat that you don’t feel like you’re at risk of falling or being swept down the mountain.
No, I feel an odd mix of being powerful and powerless at the same time.
As I approach the guy working the reservations list, I realize he also has two commercial-grade propane heaters behind him. The tall kind they use to heat patios in the winter. Yeah, he seems just fine.
I’m way out of my element here. Reservations are using Damon’s thing, and I don’t really know what I’m doing, so I stutter my way through, figuring this would be a great place to celebrate our last night and all the good news I’ll hopefully be sharing.
“Um, could I get on the list for a table for two for Saturday night?”
“I’m sorry, sir, our next available reservation is three weeks from now.”
“Oh.” My heart falls. Damon would have loved this place. And then, an idea hits me. “Could I get on the cancelation list?”
He scoffs, leading me to believe they don’t get cancelations often.
Before he can turn me down again, though, someone comes to a stop next to me.
“Yo, Freaky Zekey, how’s it hanging, my man?” Vox says, slinging an arm around my shoulders.
“Mr. Montgomery, this entire mountain may love you, but I do not. Tell me what you came to say and then be on your way.”
I watch this exchange with wide eyes.
Vox laughs and leans in conspiratorially, bringing me with him since his arm is still around my shoulders.
“Zeke, my man, Liam here wants to propose to his guy.” My eyebrows shoot to my hairline as Vox talks. “He was going to take him to The Flying Fig, but I said, no way! The Summit’s where you gotta go. There’s no better place.” I watch in awe as Zeke puffs his chest out a little at the compliment as if this were his restaurant—hell, maybe it is—and Vox continues. “And, I might have told him my good friend Zeke could hook him up, so I’dreallyappreciate it if you could do me a solid and squeeze him and his boo in.” Vox looks at me expectantly.
“Uh, Saturday? Around seven-thirty?” It all comes out as questions because even though this is totally new territory for me, I’m pretty sure this is not how normal reservations are made.
“Saturday at seven-thirty,” Vox repeats before continuing. “And since The Summit will be the beginning of their lifetime of love, a table at the window would be best.”
Zeke looks over his list and floor plan, scribbles some things out, moves a couple of things around, and then looks back at Vox and me.
“We’ll see you Saturday at seven-thirty. Don’t be late. Dress code is formal.”
“Th-thank you,” I stammer, following Vox away from the stand. “Dude, that was awesome. Thank you so much.”
“Don’t mention it. Zeke hates rich straight guys because they always look down their noses at him. And you look like the straightest gym bro to ever live…no offense.”
“None taken. Until last night, Iwasthe straightest gym bro to ever live.”
