The Edge Rules (The Rules Series Book 3)

by Melanie Hooyenga

  You’ve come to the right place.

  I have a boy question.

  I figured this would take at least another couple weeks.

  I laugh. Me too.

  Spill.

  Are you sure you’re not busy?

  Quit stalling.

  I take a deep breath. Saw Xavier skiing. He asked for my number and offered to teach me to snowboard.

  And where exactly does my advice come in? Say yes.

  I can’t tell her about Cally and Blake without admitting the reasons they’d tell him to stay away from me. Truth is, they could tell him about any number of things I’ve done and he’ll avoid me all on his own.

  I admit something I never have before. I’m second-guessing myself.

  Well knock it off.

  It’s like she’s channeling the voice inside my head—the one that normally keeps me from second-guessing anything. So I should text him?

  Uh…. YES. You do not let a boy like that get away.

  She has a point. What should I say?

  Have you never asked a boy out?

  Not exactly.

  Technically he asked you, so you’re just answering.

  That doesn’t make this easier.

  Stop overthinking and just do it.

  Now?

  Yes. I’ll wait. :)

  I take a quick breath and switch to a new message, but my charm and wit seem to have flown out the window. What would I say if I saw him in person? I’d make a joke so it’s clear this isn’t a big deal, plus Drea is right. He asked me, I’m just answering.

  I’ve been thinking about your offer.

  No no no. Delete that.

  You still think you can convert me?

  What the hell is wrong with me? This is terrible. I clear the screen and switch back to Drea. This is harder than I expected.

  SIGH. Just be upfront. No games. Tell him you want to ride his board.

  Nice.

  You know what I mean.

  brb

  I switch back to the blank message. I’ll go on one condition. I hit send before I can think about it any longer, then switch back to Drea. Done.

  Good luck. I’ve gotta run but let me know how it goes.

  I will. Thanks for holding my hand.

  :)

  I cradle my phone, willing the physical contact to telepathically elicit a response from him. After several minutes—the longest I’m willing to wait around for a boy—I toss it aside. My gaze drifts out the window and I’m hit with a wall of emotion. We’ve lived in this house my entire life. This view of the trees and the backyard are all I’ve ever known and I can’t believe we have to leave. It’s doubtful any place we find will have a room big enough for my queen-sized canopy bed—and what else will we have to leave behind? Dad’s study for sure, but what about the couch and kitchen table? They’re the only places I ever let my guard down. It feels stupid to be so attached to physical things, but the more I think about it the harder it is to breathe.

  And where will we live? This neighborhood is part of my identity. Mom mentioned a condo, but that could be anywhere.

  A thought hits me like a sledgehammer to the chest and I sink onto the edge of the bed. What if I have to change schools? I can’t start over with only a year and a half left of high school.

  Although maybe that’d be better, the voice in my head whispers. You’ve screwed things up so bad that a fresh start could be nice.

  I shake my head. Rule number one of being the biggest bitch in school is to never doubt yourself—there are plenty of people to do that for you. Admitting that I should have handled things differently would be like erasing my years of being at the top.

  But look where it’s gotten you. Alone in your room on a Saturday night, stressing over a boy who a month ago you’d never think twice about.

  How would I even go about changing? I’ve put so much effort into perfecting my image that without the status and reputation, I don’t know who I am. I flop back on the bed and am staring at the gauzy fabric of the canopy when my phone dings.

  It’s Xavier.

  And what have you been thinking?

  My stomach flips. That I shouldn’t say I don’t like something if I’ve never tried it.

  I like where this is headed.

  I blush. It’s like he leads me into saying things with double meanings on purpose.

  What’s your condition?

  Not at Eldora. I’m not embarrassing myself where I know everyone.

  There’s a pause, and I reread my message to make sure there’s nothing to read into it. He wouldn’t think I’m embarrassed about him, would he? True, we come from completely different worlds, but he doesn’t know me well enough to think that’s what I meant.

  How about Echo Mountain?

  I exhale. When?

  Tomorrow?

  I sit up. I figured he’d stretch this out for another week. I can do that. Noon?

  You need that much beauty sleep?

  You don’t?

  Is 10 okay? I’ve got stuff later.

  I start to type It’s a date, but quickly erase it. I’ll see you then!

  Sleep tight Brianna.

  You too. I include a smiley face emoji, but just a regular one. No hearts or tongues hanging out, even though I’m drooling at the thought of spending an entire afternoon with him.

  And for the first time in forever, I’m actually worried what someone will think of me. I always care about other peoples’ opinions, but this is different. I barely know Xavier, but I get the feeling that he doesn’t put up with the type of BS that I thrive on. How long will he stick around once he finds out who I really am?

  I wake up well before my alarm. I keep telling myself that nothing will happen because we’re too different and my parents would never accept him and he’ll hate me once he discovers the real me, but that doesn’t stop the butterflies in my stomach. I dance through breakfast and wish I had a different outfit to wear, but most people wear the same jacket and snow pants all season. Besides, the bright blue sweater beneath my ski jacket makes my eyes look amazing and is a definite step up from my Chain Gang ensemble.

  I knock on Mom’s door and wait for her to answer. When she finally murmurs a response I say, “I’m going skiing again. Be home later.” If she changes her mind about me not being grounded, I don’t want to stick around to find out.

  It feels weird to leave for a ski resort without my skis, and even weirder to have my four-year old, never-been-used helmet on the passenger seat. I made fun of Cally for wearing one the first time she skied with us, but that’s because as a skier, I never fall. Strapping myself onto a snowboard guarantees that I’ll wipe out. I grab a grande latte on my way out of town, then settle in for the drive to Echo Mountain.

  The butterflies get worse as I get closer, and by the time I pull into the parking lot I’m borderline nauseous. Who AM I? I don’t get flustered over the opposite sex. I’m the flusterer. And since when do I do anything outside my comfort zone for a boy? Snowboarding is the antithesis of everything I stand for—I’ve always thought of boarders as losers and slackers—yet here I am, about to risk my butt for a little attention from a boy I barely know.

  I carry my helmet to the ticket line and freeze when I see him. He’s decked out in the same black outfit from yesterday and has his helmet tucked under one arm. Most boys don’t bother doing their hair since the helmet destroys it, but he definitely did his hair before coming here. He smiles when he sees me, and his entire face softens.

  Oh lord, I’m in trouble.

  “Hey,” I say. My gaze drops to his throat and I get the incredible urge to brush my lips over his skin.

  “I tried to borrow a board for you so you wouldn’t have to rent, but everyone’s heading out today.”

  I shrug like it’s no big deal, even though I’ve never rented in my life. “Lead the way.”

  I fill out the form with my height, weight, and experience level, and I must make a face because he laughs.

&n
bsp; “It’s killing you to admit you’re a beginner, isn’t it?”

  “No.” I shove the lid back on the pen. “Okay, maybe a little. But I guess I need to get over that, huh?”

  He presses a hand to his chest. “What if I promise to have you on a blue before we leave?”

  “I thought you have to be somewhere later?”

  He smiles, then grabs the paper from my hand and leads me to the rental counter. “She’s a newbie, but can you give her something nicer than the beginner boards?” he asks the bearded guy behind the counter. He’s not much older than us but right now he holds all the power.

  I smile my sweetest smile, the one guaranteed to get me whatever I want, and Xavier smirks. “I promise to be extra careful.” I even bat my eyes a few times for good measure.

  The guy looks over both shoulders, as if anyone’s paying attention, then leans over the counter toward us. “Okay. But if you trash this, you’re buying it.”

  Xavier’s lips get tight but I keep smiling. “Sure thing.”

  The guy sets a sleek purple board with big white letters on the counter, then grabs a pair of boots and adjusts the bindings. He gives Xavier a stern look before handing it over. “I’m trusting you.”

  “Thanks, man.” Xavier grabs my gear and leads me to a row of benches, where I swap my regular snow boots for what look like giant moon boots.

  It feels like I shoved my feet into oversized hiking boots. My ski boots are top of the line but they still dig into my calves after a couple hours on the slopes. I could spend all day in these. “Are all boarding boots this comfortable?”

  The corner of his mouth turns up. “And these are rentals.”

  I peek at his boots—also black—and compare them to mine. His laces are in better shape and the sides aren’t nearly as scratched. “I could get used to this.”

  He rubs the pad of his thumb over my cheek. “I hope you still think that after a couple runs.”

  My confidence dips once we’re outside. He straps my front foot to the board and we do the awkward shuffle-hop to the chairlift, and while he glides easily into line, I struggle to keep up. The helmet is more comfortable than I expected, and it actually makes me feel a tiny bit better to know that I won’t knock myself out if I fall, but it restricts my peripheral vision, making it hard to see other people until they’re zooming into line around us.

  “You doing okay?”

  What was I thinking trying something completely new with a boy I barely know AND who I’m trying to impress? “I’ve seen enough boarders fall getting on and off the chairlift to know this may not end well.”

  He hooks his arm through mine. “You push, I’ll make sure you don’t fall. Deal?”

  I nod, too nervous to answer because we’re next in line and the chairlift is here and oh crap, oh crap, he’s pulling me forward and I’m not sure if I can stop and ooh, the chair’s hitting the back of my legs and we’re sitting and we’re in the air.

  “Nice job.” His arm is still looped through mine, not that I’m complaining.

  “That was all you.”

  “The hardest part is next.”

  “Harder than actually boarding?”

  He nods. “Most people bite it because they don’t stay in control of their board. If you rest your back leg on the board and pretend it’s strapped in, you can glide off no problem. If you try pushing with your free foot, the board will twist and you’ll catch the edge you’re so afraid of.”

  “And down I’ll go.” I try not to read into the fact that he’s already figured out what scares me.

  “Right.”

  “Got it.” He makes it sound easy, but saying and doing are two entirely different things.

  “When you fall, try not to catch yourself with your hands.”

  Not if, when. “Why not?”

  “That’s how you break your wrist.”

  I mentally curse my twelve-hour-ago self for ever agreeing to this.

  “Want me to help?”

  “A two-person pile-up will not make this better.”

  He purses his lips like he’s considering that, and now I’m picturing us rolling around in the snow.

  The top of the lift arrives too soon. “I’m having second thoughts.”

  He squeezes my knee and heat shoots up my leg. “Too late now. Remember to keep your back foot on the board and no flailing.”

  “No flailing?” My voice comes out an octave higher than normal but I don’t care because we’re at the top and the chair pauses like it always does but it’s like I’ve forgotten everything I know about exiting a chairlift. My board hits the snow and Xavier’s arm tightens around mine.

  “You’ve got this,” he whispers.

  My left foot—the one strapped to the board—glides like it’s supposed to, but my right foot comes down on the hard snow and I stumble.

  “Put it on the board.”

  I do what he says and squeal as we drop down the incline. He points us away from the lift so the next people can exit, but as soon as he releases my arm, I pitch forward. I hit the ground fast, landing on my shoulder. Normally I’d be mortified to fall, especially at the top of the chairlift where everyone can see, but I’m so excited I didn’t break my wrist that I’m not even thinking about that. “I take back every mean thing I’ve ever said about boarders who can’t get off the chairlift.”

  “Over here,” he calls. He’s on his butt near the lip of the hill, already strapped into his board.

  I shuffle-hop to him and drop to the ground as gracefully as possible with a giant piece of fiberglass swinging every which way. At least my feet are comfortable. I slide my right foot into the bindings and latch it in, then he runs his hand over my foot, checking my work. His hand stays there long enough for my pulse to pick up, and he meets my gaze.

  “Only one thing left to do now.”

  Please let it be anything other than going down the hill.

  In one fluid movement, he balances on an edge and stands, then hops so he’s facing me with his back to the hill. I mimic his movements, and while I don’t make it look nearly as effortless, I manage to get to my feet.

  Skiers zip past us and shoot over the top of the hill. I stare longingly at two girls whose synchronized movements almost seem choreographed, reminding me of me, and for a second I panic. What if Kenzie’s here? As far as I know, she’s never been here, but she’s got a new crew and maybe they’re changing things up.

  Xavier touches my chin. “Hey.”

  “Shouldn’t we have started on the bunny hill?”

  “Tow ropes are a bitch.”

  I peer over his shoulder. On skis this slope is nothing, but on a board it looks like a cliff. “Yes, but bunny hill.”

  “Take it ten feet at a time. Slide with your board parallel to the incline. Stop by lifting your toes so you’re balanced on your heels. It’s called a falling leaf because you drift back and forth across the hill”

  “But not too fast or it’s concussion city.”

  He taps my helmet. “That’s what this is for. But yeah, if you catch the edge too fast you’ll go down hard.”

  “Awesome.”

  “I think you’re gonna surprise yourself. You’ve seen people board before, right?”

  I stiffen, and immediately lose my balance. I catch myself on his arm. “Of course.”

  He gets me balanced and squeezes my shoulders. “Stay loose.” He lowers his head so his eyes are inches from mine. The scent of mint gum and woodsy body wash hits my nostrils and I relax. It’s like he has a chemical effect on me. “Ready?”

  I smile. “No.”

  “You go first.”

  My eyes widen. “Why me?”

  “Because I want to make sure you don’t stay up here.”

  I don’t admit that I’ve laughed at kids too afraid to push themselves off the top of the hill. I take a deep breath and push away the thoughts screaming at me that this is a terrible idea. “Wish me luck.” He lets go of my shoulders and I slide past him to the t
op of the hill. Ten feet at a time. I twist my body so the board is facing downhill and I start to move. Think leafy thoughts. Adrenaline rushes through me and I get that same terrified and excited feeling that comes over me when I bypass the cash register with something shoved in my pocket. Then I pick up speed and have visions of barreling straight into the trees on the edge of the run and jerk my legs sideways to stop. Except that’s how you stop on skis, not a board. My front edge catches and I smack face-first into the snow.

  Snow is everywhere. In my mouth, in my hair, inside my goggles. But I did it!

  Snow scrapes as a board stops next to me and I lift my head. Light blue board with navy swirls. He crouches next to me, a mixture of amusement and concern on his face.

  “How’d that feel?”

  “Amazing. Then cold.” I laugh. “I think I destroyed my leaf.”

  He brushes snow off my face and smiles down at me. “Ready for more?”

  I flip onto my back and sit up. Aside from being covered with snow, nothing seems to be broken. “Watch out for that first dip. It’s a doozy.”

  He slips his hand into mine and pulls me to my feet. “Ten feet at a time.”

  This time, instead of pointing my board straight down the hill I keep my body facing downhill and slide on my back edge. Yes! Be the leaf!

  Xavier swoops around me and comes to a stop twenty feet away, shaking his head.

  I lean back until I coast to a stop. Without falling down! “Why?!” Yes, it comes out whiny but I went twice as far as his ten-feet-at-a-time thing and didn’t fall down!

  “I’m not letting you go down the hill like that. Would you snowplow the whole way on skis?”

  “God no.”

  He smirks. “Well, that’s the equivalent of snowplowing.”

  We may not know each other well, but he’s figured out how to motivate me. “So what am I supposed to do?”

  He hops toward me, uphill, and my mind lingers on the abdominal strength it must take to do that. He stops a foot away. With the slope of the hill we’re eye to eye and I feel a rush of power at being almost taller than him. “A little of the first try and a little of the second.”

  I give him a half smile. “Without the face-plant.”