Up in the Air

by Rebecca Sharp

  My lips formed a silent ‘oh.’

  I swallowed over the lump in my throat as my heart began to beat louder and louder in my ears.

  What should I do? Tell him to stay? Smile and wait for him to leave?

  I wanted him to stay. I needed him to go.

  Maybe just one night.

  No, Channing, you can’t do that. You’ve been over this. Maybe if he was anyone else, but he’s not.

  He pulled out his phone and my mouth betrayed me.

  “Just stay.” I put up a hand to stop him as the soft words escaped my mouth. “Just stay for a little.”

  He stared at me, silently asking if I was sure about that. I dropped my head in a half-nod, crossing my arms in front of me.

  “I’ll stay for as long as you’ll let me, gorgeous.”

  When he talked like that, I wanted to let him stay forever.

  “I don't know if you are hungry or not, but I ordered pizza. Hope you like mushrooms.” I turned and began to walk towards the kitchen.

  The front door of the house opened into a huge, two-story foyer, light from the large window above the door streaming through to illuminate the space. There was a formal dining room to the left and my dad's old office to the right. Both of those doors were shut because Chance and I rarely used those rooms.

  The Brazilian hardwood floor of the hall led back, past the staircase to the second floor, to the large kitchen on one side and the living room on the other with a small morning room space in between. The entire back wall of the house was covered with windows providing a nice view of the woods behind it in the summer; in the winter, once the leaves were gone, we could actually see the lights from Snowmass in the distance. The second floor didn't extend all the way back, which meant the ceiling was vaulted, making the space feel even larger than it was.

  The kitchen was Cherrywood and granite, with modern appliances, and a gas stove; my mom loved to cook.

  “Lucky me, I love mushrooms.” I heard him say as he followed me. When I stopped in the kitchen, next to the island in the center of the room, he spoke again. “This is a great house.”

  His presence completely changed the space. Wearing fitted jeans and a crewneck sweater, he looked like he belonged at the table talking business with my dad over a Scotch, rather than on the slopes risking his very pretty neck.

  “Thanks. My parents bought it when we were little... when Chance and I began riding. They enrolled us in Pine Wood Academy which is a few miles down the road; it’s a school geared toward kids who have a desire or talent for winter sports. That’s where we met Emmett and Nick.” Way to ramble. “Anyway. The house. They left it to us when they retired to Florida.”

  “And they didn’t think you’d just have one giant house party when they left?” he joked, pulling out one of the counter stools and taking a seat.

  “I’ve tried to keep those to a minimum. Usually – thankfully – Nick hosted that type of thing at his parents’ mansion since they were never home. The only party I want to be a part of is the fresh pow-party on the mountain. I can’t speak for my brother and friends now.” I smiled ruefully. “But, I’m sure you know what I mean.”

  He laughed. “I’ll be honest, I was interested in both kinds of parties at one point in my life. Not anymore…”

  “I’m hoping Chance and the rest of the SnowmassHoles get to that point soon. I try to keep them out of trouble, but I wouldn’t say that I’m usually successful with it.”

  “SnowmassHoles?”

  “Their nickname in high school. Kind of stuck with them after all of the shit that they pulled.”

  He chuckled. “I can imagine.”

  “Ally, though, I try to look out for but most days it’s actually the reverse. She originally moved with our parents, but then a few months ago, she moved back out here with us.”

  “Why do you sound surprised?” He heard that?

  “I guess because she’s never been much for the cold or the mountain.” I shrugged. “Maybe she missed us, but I sometimes get the feeling that she moved back here to hide.” A loud sigh escaped me. “But, having grown up with the guys, I’m not that great at getting that sort of information from her.”

  He rubbed his hand over his mouth and my lips tingled, wishing they could take its place. “People have to open up to you in their own way, in their own time. Especially family. I can see how much she respects and loves you, so I don’t think you are the obstacle that she’s trying to overcome.”

  I looked at him for a moment, taking in his words and relishing how they seemed to soothe the guilt that had been gnawing at me for some time now.

  “Can I get you something to drink?” I changed gears, pulling open the fridge even though I knew that there weren’t a whole lot of options. “We’ve got water, green tea, umm…” I really was not prepared for guests. “There are two bottles of Lagunitas beer that Emmett left here the other week and I think Chance has some whiskey around here somewhere.”

  Cringe. Don't keep mentioning Chance.

  “I’ll just take water, thanks,” he said with that sexy, half-smile of his. “So, pizza and a movie?”

  I let out my breath when he didn't question where my brother was, probably assuming he was out with the guys. “I’m a classy girl, what can I say?” I pulled out two glasses, filling them with water. “You’re welcome to stay… for the movie…” I offered quietly.

  He was already here so I might as well go big or go home.

  Before he had a chance to respond, the doorbell rang; the pizza was here. I didn’t even make it around the island before Wyatt was down the hall and answering the door, paying for the large pie that I’d ordered.

  He turned around holding the box of pizza. “I told you, gorgeous, you’re not allowed to pay for anything when you’re with me; that’s not how I work.”

  I threw my hands up in defeat and walked back into the kitchen to pull out plates.

  “So, what else do you do, Channing?” he asked, setting the box down on the counter. “You bartend, you teach snowboarding lessons, you ride.”

  “Well, I don’t have time for much else after all of that to be honest.” I laughed, sliding a piece of pizza onto my plate. “How about you?”

  “If that wasn’t the million-dollar question…” he replied, picking up a slice and biting off the steaming end. “I snowboard. I’m not sure that I really have any other talents.”

  “Is that why you’re still riding this year?” His eyes darted up from the pizza to mine, watching as I took a bite, surprised that I’d asked so bluntly.

  “Yes and no.” He sighed, taking a seat again at the counter. “I didn’t feel ready to retire. I also have no idea what I’m going to do with myself once I do.”

  “Sounds exciting.”

  He let out a bark of laughter. “Or terrifying.”

  “Well, isn’t that what we live for every day?" I asked distractedly, trying to keep the hot cheese from melting off the side of my pizza. "You know, when we fly down the side of a mountain, most times into the air to do some arguably life-threatening maneuver? Exciting, yet terrifying. That’s why it’s so addicting.”

  “True.” He nodded in agreement. “Maybe that’s why I can’t seem to stay away from you.” He grinned devilishly at me.

  Unprepared for his remark, I coughed, choking on the bite of pizza that I’d taken. He had the nerve to smile even bigger, knowing exactly how his words were affecting me.

  “Snowboarding is just all I’ve known for a very long time and all of a sudden, it seems like it’s coming to an end. I wish I’d taken the time to have more of a life – to have other interests to now fall back on.”

  “I know what you mean,” I said and he raised an eyebrow at me. “But the mountain is a part of you. It breathes life into you. It’s like a limb – you can’t cut it off just because competing isn’t an option anymore. And, not for nothing, you don’t dress like a snowboarder, so you could always fall back on modeling.”

  “What’s that
supposed to mean?” he asked, grabbing another slice.

  “You know… the nice pants, button-down shirt, nice jacket… not your typical vans, jeans, and a t-shirt…” I shrugged. “I’m just saying that you always look very nice.”

  He laughed. “Thank you, I think? I don’t know that I ever dressed that casually, but especially not now. I’m almost thirty-one. I should at least start looking like an adult even if I don’t behave like one.” He winked at me and I had to set the remainder of the crust of my pizza down. “All this coming from the one who wears clothes and makeup… for what I’m still trying to figure out.”

  “What’s wrong with wearing makeup?” I asked defensively.

  “Nothing. It’s just clear that it’s not the norm for you, so I’m wondering why you started.” His gaze bored into mine.

  "Maybe I just wanted to look a little more like a girl sometimes." I shrugged nonchalantly.

  "Sweetheart, trust me, there's no mistaking you for anything but." As if to emphasize his point, he shifted in his seat, adjusting himself. I quickly turned my gaze down to my plate. I was in sweats and a tee – with damp hair, no less – and this man was somehow still attracted to me.

  What was wrong with him?

  “If you want my opinion, it's entirely unnecessary; you are even more gorgeous right now without it.” His heated gaze raked over me. Crap. A night in with Ally meant I hadn't needed to ask for her makeup assistance. A night in with Wyatt was a whole different situation – one that she'd left me inadequately prepared for. I ducked my head trying to hide the blush that crept onto my cheeks. "Plus, I'd rather no one else be tempted to look at you the way I am right now," he growled with a possessiveness that made me ache to be claimed.

  “So, what are your options?” I tried to redirect our conversation.

  “The usual. Continued work with sponsors, coaching… I don’t really want to work with professionals though. They get enough help.”

  "Well, based on what I know about you and how quickly you rose in the snowboarding world, there isn't a doubt in my mind that whatever you decide to do and set your mind to – you will succeed." He stared agape at my unquestioning faith in his abilities. "I mean, you're Wyatt Olsen; all you do is win." I tried to tone down the seriousness with a little jest, one that did manage to have him cracking a smile.

  "You do have a point." He brushed his thumb over his lip, sending a quiver through me.

  “Plus, you're only thirty. You literally could do whatever you wanted." I rested my elbows on the counter while I continued with my train of thought. "I mean, my parents moved out here when Chance and I were five, so they would have been like thirty-seven or so. They used to work in New York City for big financial firms and then, when they moved here, they both did something completely different. I guess they could have found similar jobs, although probably not at companies as large as the ones they'd worked for, but they didn't. My mom went back to school to become a nurse and my dad began teaching at the University of Colorado. Both were totally outside of what they'd done before." I paused, chewing on my lip for a second, noticing how intently he was staring at me. "Even now, well, my dad's working on his golf game, but my mom decided to become a yoga instructor. So, I really wouldn't be worried if I were you."

  "I'm not worried, just wondering, I guess. Up until now, everything had a plan and a point. Now, it's all up in the air."

  "Mmm," I murmured, wishing I knew something else to say. "What do your parents do?"

  "They're both doctors in Montreal. My mom is originally from Brooklyn – part of a large Italian family. My dad was doing his residency at Columbia when they met and I guess, the rest is history."

  "Oh." Still. Life is never that simple.

  "What?" He laughed.

  "Well, I think I see why you're stressing. Doctors... Type-A personalities... they always have a plan." He nodded, tapping his fingers on the counter. "Still, I'm sure that they struggled with where their careers were going at some point or another; you probably just don't know about it."

  Even though I sounded confident, he didn't look convinced and I couldn't blame him; they were his parents after all, he would probably know.

  "You could teach. I mean, it doesn't have to be the little ones like I do. You're a gold medalist; you could instruct or coach other professionals, offer classes and stuff." He was staring again. "I'm sorry, do you not like to teach? I shouldn't have assumed.”

  “Honestly, I don’t know. I’ve never done it.” He stood and picked up both of our plates, taking them over to the sink, and beginning to wash them.

  "Sorry," I apologized again. "I didn't mean to just barge into your personal shit."

  He turned the sink off and grabbed a towel to dry the dishes. "Don't apologize, Channing." He laughed softly and shook his head. "Somehow, in the last few minutes, you have managed to make me feel calmer about the inevitable, upcoming changes in my life, than I've ever managed to feel." Oh, shit. "For the first time, the thought of leaving the sport competitively doesn't fill me with dread and uncertainty."

  My stomach clenched. I could hear how heartfelt his words were. I could hear that my attempts to put him at ease had helped and my insides warmed at the knowledge; I'd helped Wyatt Olsen - famous snowboarder who always seemed like he had his shit together. Except, in that moment, he wasn't famous; he was just a man, faced with a big life change, asking for help. For an instant, my thoughts drifted to my brother who had been in a similar, yet different, scenario – both of them being forced to leave the sport that they loved.

  Maybe that's why I couldn't resist trying to break through to Wyatt – because Chance had never given me the opportunity. Maybe that's why I risked the intimacy that this conversation brought – because if I couldn't help Chance, at least I could help him. And then there was the part of me that pounded in my chest, demanding I admit that I'd helped him because I wanted to - because I wanted to be closer to him.

  I stood there, arms over my chest, one foot rubbing down along the length of my calf, all while chewing on the inside of my lip.

  I’d thought about this off and on – mostly on – for the last few days ever since Emmett had said it. I knew that there were so many problems – so many potential ways that this could end badly. But the thought in my mind that drowned them all out was this: I needed Wyatt if I wanted to win.

  More potent than the thought was the feeling in my heart and, well, everywhere else in my body: I needed Wyatt.

  I would be lying if I said that the words that came out of my mouth next were entirely motivated by my need to take the gold in Slopestyle, by my need to do this for myself and my brother, to make him proud – and to prove that I could. The truth was that I wanted to spend more time with this kind, protective, albeit demanding, and milk-frothing-hot gentleman. And this was the only legitimate reason my brain would accept for my being able to do that.

  Because even though I would be spending time with him, it was going to be all business.

  I swear.

  “So, teach me.”

  He set the last plate down on the counter and turned to stare at me; I’d surprised him again, but at least I’d refrained from begging him, in some way, to kiss me. He waited and his silence made me anxious, second-guessing my brazen request.

  “I mean, you don’t have to.” I laughed nervously. “What am I saying? You have to focus on your practice – just like Chance – I didn’t mean—“ I rambled, throwing the mention of my brother in there just to clarify why I hadn’t asked him in the first place.

  “No.” He shook his head. “I want to. When?"

  "Monday."

  "Where?"

  My head ducked down – it should have been a clear indicator of the lie I was going to tell. "I can meet you at Snowmass park in the morning. Chance isn't using his pass, so, I mean, as long as you don't tell..."

  He chuckled. "Your secret is safe with me." He had no idea that he was the last person my secret could be safe with. "Are you sure, Channing?
”

  I nodded. “Yes. I mean, you’re just going to help me nail my triple… not anything else.” My awkwardness was becoming even more apparent; of course not anything else, Channing, why would you even say that?

  Wyatt smiled at me. “Just the trick.” I nodded to confirm as he took a few steps towards me, closing the space between us. He stopped just in front of me and I felt my breath becoming shallower as my body became more alive. “Nothing else?” I didn’t know if it was a question or a statement – and I think that was the whole point. His head dropped closer to mine as he said it, that incredible mouth of his within my reach.

  A delicious shiver trickled down my spine, inciting that familiar pressure that began to roll deep inside of me. How did this happen every time I was around this man? I wanted his help, but I couldn't want him. My body hadn't seemed to have received the memo, though.

  What have I done?

  “Nothing else,” I answered breathlessly.

  Now his eyes were on my lips and I licked them out of habit, seeing his body tense ever so slightly as desire raced through him.

  “So, no kissing?” He clarified as his hand came up, a large index finger tracing down along my cheek to brush along the fullness of my lip.

  I breathed against his hand, feeling my nipples harden against my shirt, my heart slamming against my chest. “Definitely not.”

  "And definitely," he broke off as his finger trailed down the side of my neck, soft like snow as it grazed over my pulse that was rapidly firing underneath my skin, "no touching?"

  Again with the ambiguous questions and statements. My breathing was ragged as his finger moved lower, reaching the neckline of my shirt while his intoxicating gaze remained locked with mine; my blue eyes hazy with the storm that brewed inside of me. That lone finger crossed the boundary of the fabric of my tee and I stopped breathing altogether. My thighs were clenched so tightly together, trying to ease the throbbing between them.

  "Yes," I whispered shakily. Immediately his finger stopped, just at the top swell of my breast. I bit down hard on the inside of my cheek to stop myself from immediately retracting my word. I sucked in a breath, my chest rising higher than normal begging for his touch to continue on to my breasts.