I stopped my car in front of the coffee shop. “I’m going to be late to meet the guys.” I still had to find a place to park in the quickly filling lot and put all my snow gear on. Ally didn’t care, buckling down and staying firmly planted in her seat. “Seriously, Al! We’re both going to be late.”
“So then just tell me what you said and I will happily whistle my way right into work.” She flashed a smile at me and knew that she had me.
“Yes, alright. I was asked out and he is hot. He’s beyond hot. Like, you could stick his pinky finger in your little frothing pitcher and he could steam the freaking milk for your latte, hot; he was milk-frothing hot.” Her smile grew as she began to laugh uncontrollably at my exuberant, ridiculous, yet somehow still lacking, description of just how good-looking Wyatt Olsen was. “Are you happy now?”
She put her hand on the door handle, but continued to laugh while she waited for more.
My hands gripped the steering wheel and I dropped my forehead to rest in the middle of them.
“Yes, I said yes to him. To a date. And I have no idea why and I have no idea what I’m doing.” I laughed pathetically at myself before turning to her to plead, “Now can I please get to my friends?”
“Fine, but we are so going to talk more about this later!” Her excited squeal sealed her promise as she jumped out of the car.
I threw the jeep in second gear—I had no time for first—and gunned it towards the parking lot of the resort hoping that Emmett and Nick didn’t think I’d bailed on them for the second day in a row.
“Well, well, well! Look who decided to show today!” I groaned, wrapping my board behind my back as I trudged through the decent pow over to where Emmett and Nick were tying into their boots. “Didn’t recognize you without your makeup on, Lil.” Emmett continued to tease.
“Yeah, well, maybe you’ll recognize the bottom of my board when I nail the double today in front of your sorry asses.”
Step one: Get my double cork down solid.
Step two: Proceed to the triple.
Step three: Don’t choke.
“HA!” He clipped in his leading foot and stood, waiting on Nick to finish so we could head to the lift.
“So, lay it on us, Lil. What’s the damage for the next month?” Nick locked in his toe strap and we all pushed over to the Coney Glade lift.
They weren’t going to like my answer.
“What we thought. Snowmass Park is closed Monday thru Friday for the entire day except to competition riders.”
Their string of expletives was lost in the wind as the lift carried us up to the top of the slope.
“What the fuck…”
“What are we going to do?” They literally sounded as though the entire resort was closing, instead of just one trail.
“It’s only for a few weeks, guys. Makaha will still be open…”
Makaha was only the intermediate park and would be fine for our afternoon rides. The Snowmass Park, though, contained the Zaugg superpipe; it was groomed much better, had bigger kickers, and overall just stayed in better condition since there were only a few riders expert enough to take it on.
“Makaha blows,” Nick grumbled as we prepared to get off the lift. “And it’s always swarming with skiers.”
We reconvened at the top of the terrain park slope.
“Alright, who’s up first?”
“Well, you were talking a pretty big game down there, Lil. I think you should be first on the kicker.”
Figures.
I stared down the mostly empty slope, excitement coursing through my veins at the relatively untouched powder that coated the run, the first jump within my sights. I smirked at my crew before pulling my gray neck-warmer up over my mouth. I hooked the clasp of my helmet underneath my chin and pulled my goggles down over my eyes.
Giving them a small salute, I hopped to angle my board to face directly down the hill—my right foot in front. Up until this point, it was the only thing that ever differentiated Chance and me: he rode regular, with his left foot in front, and I rode goofy. After riding for so long, we were both pretty adept at riding switch—or riding with the opposite stance—which would come in handy for this competition. The only time I couldn’t change it though, was right before taking a jump—it was too risky to come in with my weaker leg behind. Thankfully, the judges didn’t keep track of which way each rider rode—and that meant only those closest to Chance and me would be off-put by that observation.
I sucked in a deep breath and pushed off down the slope.
“Dropping!” I yelled, letting anyone on the other side of the landing know that I was coming.
Pumping my legs up and down, I quickly gained speed. Even just one day off the mountain had sucked some of the life from me and the feel of my body now slicing through the wind, the cold freshness of the air filling my lungs, my board sliding smoothly over the perfectly-pressed snow, immediately rejuvenated me; I felt like I was flying.
And soon, I was.
My body began to bend forward and twist towards the back in the moments just before my board took off from the lip of the jump, launching me effortlessly into the air and into my double cork ten-eighty.
The double cork—and where it gets its name from—is that trick is comprised of a two-fold rotation. First, the more basic element of the maneuver is that you have to spin around at least three times. Not too hard. The second part is what makes it incredibly dangerous because you are essentially doing a double backflip while continuing to complete those spins.
In the air, twisting and turning, you feel like you are in one of those machines that they use to spin astronauts around; you feel weightless.
In the air, the seconds lingered for just a little longer as my body curved through the air in a practiced arc. I was soaring.
And just when my brain told my body that we were right side up again, my board slid smoothly into the grooves of the landing.
Nailed it.
A huge smile broke onto my face as my right leg swung back to bring me to a stop to wait for the guys. I clapped my hands together in excitement for sticking the landing. The double cork, while incredibly difficult, was something that I was mostly comfortable with now, unless the conditions weren’t that great. It was funny to think that back in 2010, when Shaun White had first performed it, they’d almost banned it from the Olympics. Now, if you couldn’t do the double, you probably weren’t even getting an invitation.
My gaze shot up as Emmett flew over the jump pulling a double backside rodeo—basically back-flipping with what looked like a five-forty rotation. It was smooth and sweet and the reverberating thud underneath my own board confirmed that his landing had been no different.
He turned over towards me and came to a stop while we waited for Nick.
“You land yours?”
“Absolutely.” He could hear the smile in my voice.
“Think you can nail the triple?”
My smile dimmed. “I don’t know about that—and definitely not today. I haven’t gone that hard in a while.”
Truthfully, ever since Chance left, we’d all kind of stuck to the maneuvers that didn’t push our limits. Maybe it was the fact that one of our own had been injured to the point of no return. But, more than that, I think it was because we’d lost a little bit of our drive with Chance. He’d always been the pusher, always demanding us to go bigger. Emmett might have been ‘King’ of the Mountain, but even he followed Chance.
Even when we were younger, he’d been like that. If it wasn’t for Chance, there was no way I would be as good as I am now; none of us would be.
Anxiety bloomed in my stomach; the only reason I’d landed the triple cork last year was because Chance had been practicing with me every day. I’d been black and blue for two weeks afterward, but he stayed with me and kept making me attempt it over and over again, critiquing each failed attempt and coaching me on how to fix it.
I didn’t have that now. I didn’t have Chance. How the hell was I go
ing to re-learn this move without him?
Nick flew over the jump, choosing a classic Wildcat (or backflip). He was a little shaky on the landing, but managed to stay upright before sliding over to us.
“You almost tanked!” Emmett laughed.
“Yeah, well, someone left a huge fucking gash in the lip that I’m lucky I was even able to do anything.”
“Oh please, don’t try to blame this on me, Frost.”
“You looked like you nailed the double, Lil.” His hand swung out, fisted and waiting for a pound.
“I told you two that I would.” My gloved fist bumped his.
“Triple next time?”
“Not today.” What was it with these two? Nothing for months and now, all of a sudden, they want to see me try and kill myself.
“C’mon. I’m leading and I say we warm up with some McTwists!”
I didn’t wait for them to agree, instead taking off down the trail and heading for the half-pipe. One after another, we rode up and down the walls of the giant curve, each performing an Allie-oop McTwist (basically a forward-flipping rotation).
I caught a few more kickers after the pipe before we made it down to the bottom of the run. With the time we took to wait, watch, critique and harass each other, I only had time for one more run before I had to head out, grab a bite to eat, and head over to my lesson.
“You guys have time for one more?” I asked. I assumed that they did since it was Saturday and both of them would be off of school.
“Yeah—I’m good,” Nick said.
“Same. Something is off with this board. I need to figure out what the fuck it is before I have to go and make ten of them for the Open. The way I carved yours and Chance’s boards was fucking perfect to help with the rotation; I need to go back and adjust this.” Emmett bent down and brushed the snow off of his board, examining it as he spoke.
Emmett’s snowboard fabrication business was run out of his basement—or so he says; I’d never actually seen it. His waitlist was almost two years out. His boards were expensive as hell. But it was worth the wait and worth the price. His boards could literally make or break your run.
We scanned our passes and jumped back on the lift.
Because of how our high school was set up, it made sense that a lot of us ended up with dreams or jobs that fell into the winter sport’s industry, like Emmett and Nick, as well as becoming professional athletes, like Chance and me.
Again, we arrived at the top of the terrain park.
“Alright. Frost, you go.” Emmett turned to me and I watched Nick strap in and disappear down the slope in my periphery.
“How can I give you tips if I’ve never seen you try it? I don’t know where you’re messing up.” I crossed my arms.
“Fuck. Fine.” He turned and prepared to drop. “This is going to hurt,” he grumbled as he slid off the edge.
I watched him approach the lip, gain speed, and take off.
He hadn’t turned soon enough.
I couldn’t see past the edge of the jump but I knew that he couldn’t have stuck the landing; he wouldn’t have completed the flip in time. I bent down to strap my back leg in when a shiver ran up my spine—only I wasn’t cold.
I looked up to see a group of boarders walking over to the park; the one in the front carrying a board that looked very familiar to me—a board that I’d picked up off of the asphalt yesterday afternoon.
Son-of-a-biscuit.
I quickly locked in my toe-strap, needing to disappear over the jump just like Emmett had done before Wyatt realized that it was me.
I pushed off and flew towards freedom, soaring over the edge, I chose a comfortable 1080, sticking the landing and swerving over towards my crew. Emmett was sitting on the ground, his jacket covered in snow.
Yeah, he’d lost it on the landing.
“I swear, if you made me do that on purpose because of the fucking makeup comments—“ Black eyes burned angrily at me.
“Ahh, no.” I laughed at the thought though, stopping next to them with my back facing towards the top of the hill. “I think your problem is that you’re not prepared enough for the spin right before the take-off; you’re not getting enough momentum for the turn, which means you don’t have enough time, which means you reach the ground before you’re ready to land.”
“No shit Sherlock.” He smacked the snow next to him. “But it’s the board, not me.”
The triple was very difficult to master. Last year, before the Open, Chance and I had flown out and rented time at a Pipe and park by Tahoe that was fitted with a foam pit. There we must have fallen a hundred times trying to land the triple. Attempting the triple here would be the first time I would be doing it without a safety net since the incident at the Open.
“You really have to swing your body into it almost when it seems too early. Your body has to start the turn before your feet leave the ground—that’s all I can really say.” I glanced quickly over my shoulder. Wyatt and the other riders he was with—and what looked like a lone skier—were waiting at the top for us to move on. “Alright, let’s keep moving. I don’t want to be late.”
“Hey, wait a sec.” Nick pulled off his goggles and looked up towards the top of the trail. “Is that Olsen?”
Emmett stood to get a better view. “We should stay and watch him. Maybe Miss Makeup over here can introduce us to her new friend.”
“Shut up, Emmett. I don’t think that’s him and I have to go. But, if you two guys want to wait for your man-crush, I’ll just catch up with you later.” And with that, I swung around them and began to head for the next jump, needing to get as far away from Wyatt Olsen as possible. A few second later, I heard the guys following behind me. Or at least one of them
“Damn you flew down that fast!”
Nick hadn’t reached the bottom yet, still probably hitting some of the kickers in an attempt to covertly wait and watch Wyatt take some of the jumps.
“I need to grab some lunch and a coffee before my lessons; when you try to teach five year olds how to snowboard, you will understand.” I unstrapped from my board, hiding my face for as long as possible.
“You going to Cup of Joe?” Emmett unclipped his helmet.
“Yeah, I need to make sure Ally has a ride home later. I forgot to ask when I dropped her off. Why?” I shook out my hair, hooking my helmet strap around my arm.
“No reason. I was thinking about a coffee, too, so I’ll just come with you.”
I looked back up the slope—still no sign of Nick.
“Leave him. He wanted to watch Olsen’s gang. Let’s go.” He walked ahead of me towards the caffeine chalet.
I WASN’T TOO THRILLED ABOUT Emmett coming over with me to the café, but I couldn’t think of a good reason to tell him not to without it looking suspicious. I just prayed that Ally wouldn’t say anything about what I’d been forced to admit to her in the car this morning.
The crisp, invigorating scent of freshly brewed coffee spread right through my chilled body. I immediately saw Ally behind the register, but she hadn’t noticed Emmett and me.
“There’s Little Miss Sunshine!” Emmett yelled, drawing her—and everyone else’s—attention.
I laughed as Ally gave him her best resting-bitch-face.
“Hey sis,” she addressed me, then decided to completely ignore the smirking ass standing beside me. “Didn’t think I was going to see you again today. What can I get ya?”
“Mocha—my usual. And the chicken pesto panini.” They literally made the best mochas in the world. “I know, but I forgot to ask if you had a ride home tonight, since I’m working at Breakers. Plus, I forgot I was teaching five-year-olds today, so I need some sort of stimulant.” I loved teaching little kids, but after this morning, they would require more energy than I was able to spare.
“Oh.” She bit her lip and looked around. “Actually, Jessa has a prep class for the next couple weeks before her licensing exam, so she can’t take me. There’s another girl who works here that I could ask�
��her name is Charlie—but she called off again today; I seriously don’t know why they don’t fire her, she’s always missing work.” Ally groaned in frustration. Even though it took some effort to get her here in the morning, once she was here, she was a hard worker and slackers were her biggest peev—after Emmett, that was.
“I’ll take Little Miss Sunshine home,” Emmett interjected, speaking to me instead of my sister.
Her Ryder-blue eyes iced over glaring at him. “Stop. Calling. Me. That.”
He just smiled at her, clearly having no intention of abiding by her request. I didn’t know when the whole ‘sunshine’ thing started—probably right around the time Ally couldn’t seem to stand being around him—which had been from day one. I didn’t know why it made her upset, I thought it sounded endearing—like something you would call a little sister. But what did I know?
“Sorry, sis,” I said, grabbing my coffee and sandwich. “Unfortunately, looks like you’re stuck with him for the ten-minute drive home. I think you will survive… hopefully, he will, too,” I mumbled underneath my breath. I didn’t have time to deal with her protests, so I quickly turned to leave the coffee shop before I was sucked further into their feud. “See you in the morning!” I yelled behind me as I balanced my sandwich on the lid to my coffee and opened the door to leave.
I managed to turn my head back around just to see myself collide with a solid white and blue wall.
The heat, the fresh-spiced scent, and the tingling over my body informed me that this wasn’t any wall.
It was a wall of Wyatt.
“We have to stop meeting like this.” The sexy, slightly-accented voice released goosebumps down my arms.
Well, that settled that; his voice was still just as intoxicatingly arousing as it had been yesterday.
I’d hoped the intoxication would be similar to a hangover—that after a good night’s rest, I would have slept off all the effects.
My underwear was now evidence to the contrary.
I stepped back slightly, refusing to look up until I’d made sure that I hadn’t spilled coffee all over his white jacket.
The Winter Games Page 6