My teeth are chattering, but I’m not cold. Still, I stay unmoving, not giving him a response.
“How about we take it twenty feet at a time?” he suggests. “Nice, wide, slow turns. I’ll go first, then you board down to me.”
Finally, I nod.
That’s skiing and snowboarding one-oh-one: break the big hill down into manageable, bite-sized chunks.
Twenty feet at a time.
“Just focus on me, okay?” Vox instructs.
I nod again and watch as he effortlessly scoots his board forward until he tips over the edge. My heart is pounding as he travels a short distance before digging his back edge into the snow, coming to a complete stop.
I close my eyes now that it’s my turn.
Fuck.I can’t do this.
“You can do this,” Vox says out loud, not knowing he’s combating my inner monologue. “I’ve watched you win the X Games, the FIS World Cup, the Burton Classic, and an Olympic gold medal, bab—uh, Connor. And although I recognize that this bunny hill is probably the scariest challenge you’ve faced in your career, I know you can claim this victory, too.”
As I stand there, desperately trying to get my shit together, three things occur to me: one, Vox damn near called mebaby; two, I really fucking liked it; and three, he’s talking about my snowboarding career as if I still have one. He’ll never know how much that last one means to me.
Thinking about those three things alone, I hop my board forward to drop in. The slope on this hill is hardly big enough to produce any kind of speed—which is the point of a bunny hill—but it feels like I’m flying as I move toward him.
The smile on his face as I come to a stop next to him is the most genuine I’ve seen yet.
Grabbing my shoulders, he gives me a little shake. “That’s it, man! You did it! You good to go another twenty feet?”
I nod eagerly, desperate to feel the snow under my board again.
And so it goes until we reach the bottom of the hill.
Vox unstraps from his board, racing over to me and enveloping me in a hug. I’m a lot thicker than he is, but he manages to get his arms all the way around me and hoist me straight into the air, board and all.
“Hell, yeah, Connor! How did that feel?” he asks, setting me back down.
I let out a nervous laugh because I’m trying to process that ride as well as the feeling of being in his arms.
“It felt…like I was flying, floating, and peering through a window, finding a piece of myself I’d lost. It felt like I was right where I was supposed to be.”
I’m not even sure my words make any sense, but Vox is staring at me like he understands every emotion behind the confusing declaration.
“Fuck, I really want to kiss you,” he says.
Riding the high of my first run back on a board, I take a deep breath. “Maybe just one more wouldn’t hurt. You know, to celebrate?”
“You’re back to swerving in my lane, Connor,” Vox says with a grin. “But for the record, I like it when you’re here.”
He grabs the back of my neck and hauls my mouth to his. I’m thankful neither of us is currently wearing helmets, so my face can actually reach his.
Groaning against my mouth, he mumbles, “You taste like victory,” before pulling away all too soon.
I reach for him, intoxicated by his talented tongue, and he clucks at me, diving out of reach.
“Uh-uh. You saidonekiss.”
It appears Vox has far more control than anyone’s given him credit for.
I roll my eyes. “You’re choosingnowto follow my rules? Fucking hell, Vox.”
