Grey claps Vox on the shoulder and smiles.
“It seems Vox here has some equipment questions he wants to run by you and a few things he wants to practice on the small slopes before putting them to the test on the big runs.” Sweat beads at the back of my neck, and I pull my beanie off to cool my scalp. “He asked for a couple of one-on-one hours. I figured you wouldn’t mind.” Grey shoots me a wink because this is what he brought me here for: to get close to Vox and teach him control.
But how am I supposed to do that when I barely have any of my own?
Warning bells are blaring in my head.
Vox’s equipment setup is perfect. Completely dialed in for his skill, style, size, weight, and events. There’s nothing I can help him with there. And there’s definitely nothing he wants to try on any slope smaller than the one in front of us. That isn’t how he develops his skills.
He just goes for it. Full send on full-scale terrain and figures it out along the way.
“Yeah, okay,” I say slowly, unable to shake the feeling that I’m walking into a trap.
“Great!” Grey says cheerfully. “I’ll see you guys later, then. Can’t wait to hear all about it.”
As he walks away, I look at Vox, trying to decide what to say, but Vox beats me to it.
“Follow me,” he says, completely in charge of this interaction.
I do as he says because this isn’t the time or place to make a scene.
When we’re finally out of earshot of the others, Vox turns to me.
“Do you still have your Vertigo board?”
“Um, yeah?” My answer comes out as a question even though I know I have the board. I used one of Patterson’s last night because I figured being onmyboard…theboard…would only psych me out even more. Come to find out, it didn’t matter which board I was on; I freaked out anyway.
“Is it here?”
I nod. I probably should have gotten rid of it a long time ago, but it’s complicated. I won an Olympic gold medal with that board, not to mention all the other competitions.
“Can I see it?” Vox presses.
Finally, my brain catches up, and I think to ask, “What for? Your board has far more advanced technology. You’ve ridden that board for?—”
“Five years,” he finishes for me.
I take a deep breath as I think through the significance of that number.
“I don’t know if you know this, but I rode Vertigo even after being signed by Patterson.”
“Grey told me,” I confess.
If I weren’t seeing it with my own eyes, I’d think someone was lying, but Vox Montgomery isblushing. It’s a good look on him.
He clears his throat.
“Um, right. Anyway, when you disappeared, I was reallypissed, and I switched boards to Patterson out of spite. I’m a strong enough athlete that I can win no matter what I ride,” he pauses before adding, “Oddly, I wasn’t trying to make that sexual, but I would like to point out that the statement rings true in the bedroom, too.” I groan, which makes Vox’s face light up like a Christmas tree.
Fuck me.
“Anywayyyy…” I say, dragging the word out, encouraging him to get to the point.
“Patterson’s too stiff. And no, there’s no joke there. That’s disgusting.”
I’m the one who snorts with laughter this time.
“Are you telling me you don’t find Grey?—”
