“All right, Lang,” I quietly say to myself. “It’s time to face your demons. There’s no one out here except you. No one you can hurt. No one to watch out for. Just you and the board.”
Fuck, my ass is going to freeze to this bench if I don’t move soon.
Slowly, I lean forward and set the board in the snow.
I get my first boot on, but my movements slow to a snail’s pace once it’s time to slip into the second boot. Because as soon as this boot goes on, it’ll be time to strap into the board.
I push past the mental block and use my anger and frustration over watching Vox kiss that guy to fuel my actions.
I need to show him who the best is now more than ever. Fuck findinghiscontrol, I need to regain my own.
And I can’t do that if I can’t get on a goddamn board.
I slide my first boot into the binding, and I choke on air. Immediately, I have to remove my foot. My chest is tight, and it feels like my lungs are going to explode.
Fuck, fuck, fuck!
I put my head between my knees and pathetically will the ringing in my ears to stop as my insecurities come out to play.
Even if Icouldtake things further with him, why the hell would Vox Montgomery want a loser like me? I’m stuck in the past, rooted in my trauma, and my memories from that night are the only company I keep. He rides a snowboard like he invented it, and I can barely look at the damn thing anymore. I’m a fraud. How could I possibly think I belong here or that I have anything to offer him?
I’m on my hands and knees in the snow by the time I snap out of it, and I’m acutely aware that anyone looking out the window of their condo probably thinks I’m having a heart attack.
That’s what it feels like.
Pulling myself together, I climb back onto the bench and try again.
Strapping into a snowboard is something I’ve done a million times, but between the adrenaline spike, my numb fingers, and my erratic heartbeat, I’m having a little trouble getting my fingers to work the clips.
I ride ‘goofy style,’ meaning my right foot is my front foot, and I have to strap it in first. Sliding my heel all the way back against the heelcup, I then place the front of my boot into my toe strap.
Progress.
But as soon as I begin tightening the toe buckle and the ratcheting sound reaches my ears, my system shuts down. Suddenly, I can’t get my foot out of the toe strap fast enough. An overwhelming sense of claustrophobia strikes, leaving me scrambling away from the board.
I fight a wave of frustrated tears that only makes me feel worse.
Before making this attempt, I was able to convince myself that when the time came, I’d be able to handle this. Surely enough time has passed, and it would be like riding a bike. But failing at this small task has shed light on a harsh reality.
I’ll never board again.
While I’m lying in the snow, trying to get my breathing under control, and waiting for the other side of my brain to kick in—the one that says, ‘Youcando this, and you will. Now get your fucking ass up and strap into the goddamn board,’ lights begin popping on in the building behind me.
Having enough awareness of my surroundings, and not wanting to add insult to injury by having someone call resort security, I pick my ass up and commit to strapping in.
Right foot toe strap. Check.
Right side ankle strap…
Breathe. Just fucking breathe.
It takes about four minutes, but the panic eventually subsides, allowing me to tighten the ankle strap. It feels like a monumental occasion, and I’m exhausted from it, but it’s also a win.
Unlike with skis, since your feet are attached to a singulardevice while snowboarding, you only clip in one side until you’re ready to ride down the mountain. I thought starting at the top of the bunny hill might be a bit much—and I was right—so I’m at the bottom, hoping to just move back and forth on the flat surface.
But as soon as I take that first step with my free foot and have to slide the board along to keep up, the world closes in on me, and I’m on my knees again. Harsh, wheezing breaths vibrate my chest as my face hits the ground and my tears melt the snow beneath me.
Chapter 15
