by Angel Lawson
“I just kind of hate her,” I say.
“I get it.” He pulls his hat down over his ears. “Ready to get started?”
“Promise not to laugh at me?” I say
“Did you laugh at me when you learned I have dyslexia?” He gives me a quick kiss, mouth warm in the cold air. “Come on, let’s get you on the slopes.”
I fall. A lot. But I also laugh, and every time I hit the ground, Jake gets the opportunity to get handsy while helping me up. I do manage to go up and down the beginner slope and by the time George comes to take over, I’ve moved up a level.
“She’s a quick learner,” Jake says. His cheeks are red and the white of the snow makes his eyes a brilliant blue. “You guys hit that first course a few times and we’ll meet for lunch.”
Where Jake was all about technique and precision, George is just…George. He’s fun. Falling almost as much as I do, although I suspect it’s on purpose. He teaches me how to get on and off the ski lift, which has the added bonus of quiet time alone. He keeps me warm with kisses, nuzzling his cold nose against my neck. The first time I dismount off the lift he quickly glides out of the way, shouting, “Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop!”
Using my poles, I push toward him but then get moving too fast and off balance. I crash straight into him but he holds steady—holds me steady—and whispers in my ear, “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you’re just trying come up with a way to climb on top of me.”
“I love that you think I have any control over my body right now,” I laugh, planting the pikes of my poles in the ground.
“Babe,” he says, pulling down his goggles. “You’ve got control over my body, all the time.”
He pushes off and starts down the slope, his pace slow, leaving me with my jaw dropped and feeling overheated.
When we meet at the bottom of the slope for lunch, and a pang hits me in the chest when I see Jake and Christina coming in around the same time. From a distance, Claire and I stand by one another as he racks his equipment and we watch the little snow bunny plow toward him. His eyes pop wide but he holds out his hands to stabilize her. She giggles and touches him in return. Innocently, of course.
“Gag,” Claire says, rolling her eyes. “You know she’s won like, ten competitions. She knows how to ski.”
Jake makes no move to return her attention, but by the time he walks over my blood is boiling so hot that I’m surprised there’s not a puddle of snow melted around my feet.
“Hey babe,” he says, walking up. “The guys here?”
“Inside,” I say in a clipped tone. Claire raises her eyebrow.
Food takes precedence over my irritation. I don’t know if I’ve ever been so hungry. The boys pile their trays high with food from the cafeteria and even the watered-down hot chocolate tastes good. Margaret comes to sit with us and we warm up for the second half of the day. My arms and legs already ache, but everyone was right; it is fun and I don’t want to stop.
“So this is where you guys work?” Claire asks the twins.
“Kind of,” Charlie replies after swallowing a mouthful of pizza crust. “We work down in the lodge. My dad is the head building engineer. He got us jobs.”
“We do get lift tickets once a week and a few perks, like an employee discount,” George adds.
“So it’s not so bad?” Margaret asks.
George shrugs and Charlie shoves food in his mouth again.
“It’s no Wayward Sun, amirite?” George says, breaking the silence. “Getting up at dawn. Making coffee. Listening to Dexter’s shitty music all, freaking, day.”
“Hey! I listen to the classics,” Dex says.
“I know you and your sister like that stuff, but some days I need to listen to something created after 1978.”
“I know you’re not talking about Zeppelin.”
The boys fall into their typical banter and I sit back, sipping my diluted hot chocolate and reveling in not just the warmth of the room, but the moment. I miss times like this, when we’re all just hanging out.
While we’re cleaning up our table, I notice Claire take Jake to the side. She’s talking—fast—her hands moving as she speaks. Jake listens, his face impassive. I know the two of them have a connection from when they’re younger. Part of me hopes Claire’s telling him to push Christina off the side of the mountain.
On the way back to grab our skis, I tug her jacket. “What was that all about with Jake?”
“I’ve been thinking of a good way to get Christina to back off. Like digging deep in the vault.” She touches her temple. “It got me thinking about how she trades in dirt and gossip. There has to be something between the two of us we can use to get her to back the fuck off.”
“As much as I want to say she doesn’t bother me, she does. It’s not just the flirting. I trust Jake.” I tug on my gloves. “It’s the fact she doesn’t even understand what she did wrong.”
Claire nods. “She never does.”
As we get ready, I can’t help but notice Jake heading off on his own. His mouth is a firm line of determination. The last thing I want is for him to ruin his day, worry about that girl, but at the same time, it’s time to put an end to it.
14
Jake
I bide my time, pretending to fix the latch on my boot, before easing into the line for the lift. I manage to get in right behind Christina and her friends. It only takes her a minute to realize I’m back there and without fail, her eyes light up like a predator narrowing in on prey.
When it’s her turn to get on the lift chair she stumbles, managing to miss. She reacts by laughing and calling out to Stacy, “I’m sorry!”
The attendant says, “Hop up on this one. He’s riding solo.”
This time, she doesn’t miss.
The chair rocks with our weight, our skis clanking together. I shift to keep my distance but I knew what I was getting into. A fifteen-minute ride in solitude with Christina. Something four years ago I would have wanted. Now it’s to take care of some unfinished business.
“Sorry about that,” she says, pushing her goggles up her forehead. “Sometimes I’m a goof.”
“You’re not, though,” I say. “You’re the best skier in the class.”
“Maybe besides you.” She glances at me. “Maybe I saw a chance to be alone with you. We don’t get to do that very much anymore.”
“There’s a reason for that, Chris,” I say, using the name I used to call her. “You kind of fucked up any relationship we could have.”
She rolls her eyes. “Isn’t it time to move past all that? So what? People know you have a hard time reading. It hasn’t done anything to your reputation. If anything, people like you even more.”
Of course it’s not her fault. Nothing ever is. “It’s not about people knowing. It’s about the fact you have no respect for anyone in your life. No consideration. No decency.”
“Oh, so I’m the villain. Sure. Whatever. Hate on the pretty, popular girl.” She pushes her hair over her shoulder. “It’s not like my life is so easy.”
I clench my jaw, so tight I think that it may snap. Telling this girl how I really feel would be easy. Exploding all the emotions I’ve been holding in would feel awesome, for a minute. Then she’d twist my words, spread them around school and use them to cause further trouble. I stare into the distance, out at the white-covered hills as we inch higher and higher to the more challenging courses. Claire said we needed to get her where it hurts. Shut her mouth. Play her game. It’s not my style, but desperate times…
“I know your life isn’t easy,” I say suddenly. “I remember.”
Her dark eyes narrow slightly but she plays it off, shrugging.
“You didn’t used to be like this,” I continue. “The Christina I dated was fun and sweet. She was kind. She supported me when I struggled and she was super cool when her best friend came out.”
“You’re saying I’m no longer those things.”
I laugh. “Not a chance. You’re vind
ictive and mean and you’ve seriously fucked up my family.”
She gives me a bored look. “No, you live with a bunch of delinquents. You’re better than them.”
I see the end of the lift in the horizon. I’ve got to pull the trigger before we get off or I’ll never do it, because if I have my way, I’ll never talk to this girl again.
“I’m not better than them and neither are you. I remember, Christina. I know what you’ve experienced and lived through. I know your life isn’t perfect even though you want to pretend like it is. I know that your mother is addicted to painkillers and that she sleeps around. Shit, she hit on me and I was only fourteen.”
“Liar.”
“You know I’m telling the truth. You told me and Claire all about it and we never told a soul.”
Her eyes water, but it’s cold enough tears don’t fall. “Shut up, Jake. Like you didn’t tell those guys. I’m sure the whole house knows. I’m sure Starlee knows, because why wouldn’t she?”
“Because I know how to keep a fucking secret, maybe when I shouldn’t. I don’t share other people’s problems, Chris, even when I’ve been betrayed over and over again.”
“You can’t prove anything. That was a long time ago. Everyone will think you’re just bitter.”
I shake my head. “I’m not talking about telling your little cheer friends. Because of your little stunt, my house is swarmed with caseworkers and police. We’re being watched. Don’t you think they’d want to know what’s going on in your house?”
Christina isn’t dumb but it takes her a minute to process what I just said. That after all this time I was willing to tell everyone the truth about her house, the way she did with mine.
“You wouldn’t.”
The end of the lift arrives and we both get off, gliding to a clear section. I reach for my goggles. “I would, and I will, if you don’t back off. No more flirting. No more lies. No more making Starlee miserable. I gave you a chance to move on gracefully and you didn’t take it. This is on you.”
She looks small, like her world is crashing down, and I guess for her, it is.
“Are we clear?” I ask, pulling the goggles over my eyes.
“Yes,” she says quietly. “We’re clear.”
Using my poles, I angle my skis and push off, taking the first hill fast, burning through all the excess anger I held back during the last fifteen minutes. I never wanted to go to this place with Christina but there’s only so much a guy can take. It’s one thing for her to mess with me. It’s something else entirely when she comes after my family.
15
Starlee
After the boys vanish back to the higher slopes, Charlie and I ski over to the intermediate lift together. Honestly, I’m surprised that he likes to ski—he’s not into outdoor activities.
“I hated it at first,” he confesses on the lift, “but you know how Sierra is about exercise. I didn’t have much choice and once I got the hang of it, I started to like it better. It’s quiet up here and the lift rides are peaceful. It gives my brain time to reset.”
“I can see that,” I say. “I’ve already noticed that skiing is definitely a solo sport. I have to concentrate on myself, not anyone else, and that’s hard for me. For so long I only worried about myself and my mom. My world was small. Then I came up here and it was information overload. So many new things, new sights and sounds.” I look over at him. “I had to make space for all of you in my head.”
And my heart.
“Space. That’s a good way to put it.”
We get to the end of the ride, and I’m a little more stable on my dismount. Charlie waits for me but once we start down the hill, we respect each other’s quiet. Days like this help me understand these boys so much more. They’re so different in their approaches to life and it makes me feel better about what’s going on at home right now. As we make our way down to the bottom, over bumps and curves and dodging other skiers, I’m certain that we’ll get through all of this in one piece. We just have to keep our focus on the end of the trail.
We go up and down a few more times and I feel like I’m getting the hang of it. We take a short break down at the bottom and I see a flash of pink in the distance. Christina’s coming off the slope alone, her expression upset.
“What’s going on with that?” I ask, Charlie, pointing at her as she struggles with her equipment.
“It could be anything,” he says, but we both saw Claire and Jake talking earlier. He’d looked intent. “But maybe Jake finally got the balls to tell her to get off.”
A part of me feels sorry for this girl. I know I shouldn’t, but she’s weak. She struggles, and her only leverage of power is from manipulating the people she used to call friends. It’s sad.
“Ready to go back up?” Charlie asks.
“I think I can go a few more times before my legs stop functioning.”
Sierra’s right about one thing. Exercise and fresh air are good for getting your mind off problems and people and all the real-life stuff bringing you down.
16
Dexter
It’s clear by the time I reach the lower-level trails that afternoon that Starlee is exhausted. I lead her over to a bench and she says, “My arms and legs are killing me. Especially my calves.”
“Skiing is hard, especially the first few times.”
“I’ll wait down here—you go back out.”
“Not a chance,” I tell her, reaching down to unbuckle her boots. “I can drive you back early.”
“Leelee’s car is at Claire’s.”
I think for a minute. “We’ll go get it. The guys can bring back the Jeep.”
Hoisting her skis over my shoulder, we walk back down to the parking lot, the gravel road slushy and muddy. She grimaces with every step, grumbling about the pain. I load her equipment back on Claire’s SUV and then we head to the Jeep.
Once the vehicle warms up she starts peeling off layers and I do the same, shedding my jacket and sweater, tossing them in the back. She’s wearing a tight, hot pink thermal shirt that clings to her body.
“Did you have fun?”
“I really did,” she says leaning against the door. Her cheeks are red with either wind or sunburn. “Thank you for taking such good care of me.”
“You know it’s never a question.”
We switch the cars at Claire’s, leaving the Jeep and getting into Leelee’s sedan. It’s warmer and the seats are more comfortable. I took the keys from her, not trusting her not to fall asleep. She doesn’t argue and as soon as we’re on the road, her eyes flutter closed.
We’re just outside Lee Vines when she stirs, stretching her arms and wincing. “I’m not going to be able to walk tomorrow.”
“Take some pain medication and ask your grandmother for a heating pad.”
She nods and reaches behind my neck, threading her fingers in my hair. It feels so good to have her touch me. It’s all I think about—all the time.
“Can you find a spot to pull over?” she says suddenly. Her nails scratch against my neck. I don’t have to be asked twice. I turn on the road to Yosemite and then pull off on one of the overlooks. It’s one of my favorites, day or night. The moon has already risen over the mountains, casting a glow over the clear pond and waterfall just below.
I shift the car in gear and move so I can see Starlee better. She looks a little more refreshed after her nap. I take her hand and pull it to my lips, kissing her softly.
“I need more days like these,” she says, watching my every move.
“It’ll happen. Even if things are bad for a while longer, it’s only six months until we graduate.” She nods and suddenly she’s just way too far away. I ignore her confusion when I unlatch my door, get out, and walk around the front. Her eyes follow me until I’m at her side. Recognition clicks in her eyes and she’s already opened her door before I get there.
I slam the door behind her, pushing her up against the cool metal. Her mouth meets mine, hungry and desperate. Even with the la
yers removed, there’s too much separating us and it’s too cold outside. I take a step back and open the back door and pull her back inside with me.
We meet in the middle, tight in a little cocoon. There’s no expectations but I’m not disappointed when things move fast. I push at her shirt and she lifts it over her head, revealing a black bra with tiny pink flowers stitched in the fabric. I groan and reach for her, kissing her lips, neck, and shoulders as she tugs at my T-shirt. Impatient, I remove it for her, tossing it aside, and her lips move to my chest, sucking little kisses down my belly.
I’ve missed this. Missed her, and I don’t know if I’ve ever been so hard. When she climbs on top of me and settles her weight over my hips, I clench my teeth and will myself to behave.
Which is very, very hard when she’s grinding down on me, long hair hanging in her cleavage. I brush it aside and trail my fingers down her pale skin. “You’re beautiful.”
She bends forward, giving me a better view, and shit…deep breaths. Deep. Fucking. Breaths.
Soon she’s only in that spectacular bra and a matching pair of panties. Her fingers dip beneath the waist of my jeans. My stomach trembles, her touch perfect and killing me. My mind rotates between hyper awareness and disconnection but when I hear the metal tines of my zipper, I grab her by the wrist.
I utter the most regretful thing I’ve ever had to say. “I don’t have a condom.”
She breathes heavily, which only makes her chest rise and fall in my line of vision. I desperately want to take it back. I want to say fuck it. Who cares? It’ll be okay, but this is Starlee, not some quick lay, and I know better.
“Okay,” she says, like it’s not the biggest upset in the world. I’m not sure what she’s up to when she continues to lower my jeans and rolls her hips anyway, two thin layers of cotton separating us. The friction feels good, right, and she’s sitting on top of me taking control. I touch the side of her breast, tugging at the satin fabric, and she drops her head back, working her body against mine. I don’t know if it’s the way she’s moving, the fact I’m horny as hell or the way she’s breathing that gets me into the moment, but I am. My hands move to her hips and I drag her against me, feeling the build-up increase with every pass.