But when I twist around to look at him, he doesn’t look pissed. In fact, he’s not looking at me at all. His gaze is trained on the forest below. “I usually take this at least once, just for this view.”
“You should have told me to stop here last time.”
He blinks several times, then looks me in the eyes. “You were pretty focused when we passed this spot. But I looked. I always do.”
There’s a faraway look in his eyes that makes me want to pull his face close to mine, but I hold back. Until I know his story—scratch that. Even when I find out his story, nothing can happen. I’m debating if I should suggest we keep riding or hang out a little longer when his phone rings.
He fishes it out of his pocket and frowns when he sees the display. “Cómo,” he says. His frown deepens as he listens. “Espéra allá. Me voy.” He ends the call but the frown remains.
“Everything okay?”
“It’s my little sister. She—uh…” he scrubs his glove over his face. “I need to go pick her up.”
“Is she okay?”
“Not really. It’s a long story.” He takes a breath as he looks out over the forest. “I’m sorry.”
I’m not sure if he’s apologizing for having to leave or not telling me more. My curiosity urges me to needle him, to push him until I have more details, but I swallow my questions. “It’s totally cool. But,” he looks concerned until I smile. “I can’t promise I’ll go any faster.”
He grins, and I’m relieved to see the scowl disappear. The tattoos and piercings already make him look intimidating, but when his face darkens it makes me wonder again why he was arrested and if I should be concerned about hanging out with him. “Thanks for understanding.”
I honestly can’t think of a time when someone said that to me, and I have to admit, it gives me warm fuzzies to know I made him feel a tiny bit better. Maybe not enough to make him forget whatever’s going on with his sister, but enough to put a smile on his face.
I adjust my goggles and point the front of my board downhill. So far I’ve stopped every time I’ve criss-crossed the slope, but it’s time to attempt turning without stopping. I kick out my heel to slow down as I approach the other side, then shift my weight and start sliding in the other direction. “Yes!” I pump my fist in the air, but catch my edge and my entire body slams to the ground.
Xavier’s at my side before I can assess the damage. He touches my hip, my shoulder, then settles on my face. “You don’t have to rush for me.” His eyes are steady on mine and I probably shouldn’t read into that statement, but it’s impossible when his full lips are right there and the concern he’d shown for his sister is back on his face.
“I’m okay,” I mouth, but no sound comes out. Because I can’t breathe. Like no air will come into my lungs. I try to sit up, panic filling my chest. I touch my throat and he holds me down with a hand on my shoulder.
I’m going to die. This is how I’m going to die. Suffocating on a mountain with a stupid snowboard strapped to my feet and this beautiful boy in front of me who I can’t stop wishing would kiss me.
“You knocked the wind out of yourself. It feels like you’re dying, but it’ll come back in a minute.”
“Just a minute?” I mouth, blinking back tears.
“I promise.”
Edge Rule #6: What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.
I close my eyes and try to concentrate on breathing. Anything but him watching me while I struggle for breath. Mom sometimes drags me to yoga and while I never had patience for the breathing exercises, the instructor’s words come to me now. Deep breath in, hold for one… two… three… deep breath out. I inhale deeply but it’s like the air just stops at my throat.
My eyes snap open and if I had breath to catch, it would. Xavier’s face is even closer. His eyebrows are creased and he’s biting his lower lip. I open my mouth to speak and as suddenly as my breath left me, it comes back. I gasp, then cough, and he helps me sit up. My chest feels like an elephant sat on it, but at least I’m breathing.
“I’m guessing that’s never happened to you before?” he asks.
I shake my head. “I’m all for new experiences, but that sucked.”
He smiles. “You okay to get up?”
“Give me another minute.” I break eye contact so I’m not looking at him while my lungs remember how to function. It’s not that I’m embarrassed, but I loathe feeling vulnerable and being unable to breathe is the ultimate in vulnerable.
He rests his hand on my back and starts humming. I don’t recognize the tune, but it’s soothing.
“Is that supposed to make me relax?” I smile at him so he knows I’m teasing, but he seems surprised.
“Oh, I didn’t realize—it’s something my Mom used to sing when I was upset.”
There’s so much in that statement showing how very different we are, and for a second I’m jealous that he has a mother who cares enough to sing to him. “It’s sweet.”
His gaze lowers and a flush creeps up his cheeks. “You seem to be breathing okay now.”
I poke him in the chest. “Thanks for waiting. Help me up?”
He takes my hands and pulls me upright, and we both hesitate. My entire body feels electrified and he must feel it too because he leans ever so slightly toward me, but before anything happens a group of skiers fly by, one close enough to make me flinch, and the moment ends.
I clear my throat. “Wish me luck.” Then I push off and inch my way down the hill.
I make it to the lodge with only a couple more falls. While my balance is stellar from skiing, turning still eludes me. He waits while I turn in my equipment and put on my snow boots, then we head to the parking lot.
“Where are you parked?” he asks. I point in the direction of my 4Runner and he hooks his thumb at the opposite side of the parking lot. “I’m this way.”
My smile fades. We had so many almost moments while we were on the mountain that I was sure he’d kiss me before we left. Sure it could happen right here but—
“Come with me to drop off my gear, then I’ll walk you to your car.”
“Sure.”
When we get to his disaster of a car, I must not do as good of a job hiding my distaste as I thought.
“You don’t like Subie?” he asks, pouting a little.
“You named your car?”
“You didn’t?”
He runs a hand over the front of the hood like it’s a fricking Rolls, not a hunk of metal covered in smiling woodland creatures.
“What’s with the foxes?” I point at the passenger door. I can’t imagine riding in a car that’s literally held together with duct tape.
He laughs. “It’s a joke with my sister. Some dickhead hit her and shredded the door, and this was her solution.”
“Wait, your sister was hit or the car was hit?”
“Both. She borrows it sometimes. She got her license this year but hasn’t saved enough to get her own ride.”
I do quick math. If she just turned sixteen, he’s at least seventeen, which puts him the same age as me. Not that it makes a huge difference, but I like to know these things.
“And the foxes because…”
He opens the hatchback and slides his gear inside. “It reminds me of the forest. Plus it’s a Forester. So foxes, woods, you know.”
I roll my eyes. “I cannot believe I missed that.”
He slams the trunk and pokes my arm. “That’s because you were too busy turning up your nose at how she looks. There’s a lot of depth to this baby.” He holds my gaze for a beat, then grabs my hand and tugs me toward my car.
On the walk across the parking lot, my emotions flit from excitement that I’m holding hands with a smoking hot guy to terror that someone will see me, then shame that I’m thinking that. But it’s hard to turn off years of training. By the time we reach my car I can’t decide if I should tear out of here and never speak to him again or press him up against the driver door and have my way with him.
&nb
sp; I press the remote start button for my car and turn to face him. “Thanks for today.”
“Be sure to stretch tonight. You’re gonna be sore.” He presses his hand against my belly. “Especially here.”
The butterflies are working so hard I can’t imagine ever feeling anything but bliss. His hand slides to my waist and my lips part so he knows it’s okay to kiss me. His head comes closer, but instead of making my toes curl, his lips brush my cheek and he takes a step back.
“I really do need to go.”
“Your sister,” I say like an idiot, and he nods. Grab him and kiss him yourself! But that’s not my style. He wants it, I can tell, but maybe he’s got too much on his mind right now. “See you Tuesday?”
He nods again. “Hasta luego.”
I paid enough attention in Spanish to know that means until later, so I smile and give a little wave. I climb in the car and drive home, feeling more unsettled than I did when Mom told me Dad left. As much as that sucked, divorce is as common as lipo and a tummy tuck for your fortieth birthday, and I’d always figured it was just a matter of time before our family became part of the statistic.
But everything about today goes against how I was raised. Snowboarding, hiding the truth about who I really am—not to mention falling for a boy who could get me disowned. Nothing good can come from this.
I just wish my heart would listen.
Sore doesn’t begin to describe it. I expected my legs to be tired—what I didn’t anticipate is being unable to sit up in bed because every muscle from my neck to my belly button hurts. After three unsuccessful attempts, I text Mom.
Help.
She’s at my door in under a minute. “What’s wrong?”
“I can’t move.”
She rushes to the side of the bed and presses her hand to my forehead. “Are you sick?”
I shake my head, wincing at the shooting pains in my neck. Who knew you used your neck to snowboard? “My muscles. They don’t work.”
She pulls her hand back and studies me. I didn’t tell her I went snowboarding because that would lead to questions like, “Who are you going with?” and, oh yes, “Have you lost your mind?” To which I could only answer yes.
“I fell skiing.” It’s a lame excuse and one she probably won’t believe, but it’s all I can give her.
“You. Fell skiing.” It’s not a question.
“Yeah. I caught an edge and face-planted.” That’s putting it mildly. I feel like someone punched me in the face and ripped my stomach muscles out through my throat.
“That had to be embarrassing.” Not “Wow, that must have hurt,” or, “No wonder you’re sore.” But why am I surprised? It’s not like she’s the type of mother to sing me a song to make me feel better. I don’t think Miranda Vines even knows any children’s songs.
“Yeah. Could you bring me ibuprofen and help me sit up?”
She raises an eyebrow. “It’s that bad?”
I nod, trying not to wince.
“Do you need to stay home?”
I’d love nothing more than to hide beneath the covers for the foreseeable future, but if I could show my face after my arrest, I can show up like this. “Nah, I should be okay after a shower.”
She palms my cheek and studies me for a moment. Some days I feel like I know her better than any other person on the planet, and others, like now, she seems like a stranger. Whatever she’s thinking is staying locked in her head. “Be right back.” The bed shifts as she stands, making my abs scream.
She returns with a glass of water and ibuprofen, and watches as I swallow, the tiny pills feeling like boulders scraping down my throat.
I’m never boarding again.
“I started the shower for you. Coffee’s ready downstairs.” And with that, she leaves.
I arrive at school looking less than perfect and barely able to hold my cup of coffee. Even my fingers hurt. I fumble with my locker combination, then drop my pen in Homeroom and have to ask the guy in front of me—who I’ve never spoken with—to pick it up for me. I give him a grateful smile and he shrinks away like I’m going to bite off his head.
But that’s just the beginning. Kenzie continues to ignore me in History, but it’s more of a hyper-aware ignoring, like she’s fully aware of everything I do and is tucking away bits of information to use against me later. Every time I shift positions, my face scrunches like someone kicked me in the kneecap and I’m sure she’s come up with a dozen reasons why I’m in so much pain. Kenzie has always lacked creativity, but all it takes is a whisper and raised eyebrow for half the school to believe I’m either doing manual labor because my family’s broke or screwing the entire basketball team—all at the same time.
Halfway through class, I cough and the sudden burst of air hurts so badly that I gasp loud enough that Crusty Ray asks if I’m okay. Mike twists in her seat and gives me a weird look. I brush away her concern with a shake of my head, but she’s not that easily dissuaded. When class is dismissed, she waits for me in the hall. I’d try to outpace her, but who am I kidding? At this rate I’ll be lucky to hobble to class on time.
We turn the corner and slam into a wall of awkwardness. Evan, Mike’s tall, dark, and handsome ex, jumps back, his eyes darting between us, confusion clear on his face.
“Hey,” we both say, neither looking directly at him.
He mumbles under his breath and moves around us.
“Tell me again why you broke up with him?”
“I don’t believe I ever told you in the first place.” Her tone is sharp, and she takes a deep breath. “Sorry. So what’s wrong with you?” she asks, glancing at my malfunctioning body.
“What have you heard?”
“Nothing, but I wouldn’t believe what’s said around here anyways.” Mike learned first-hand from me that half the BS floating through these halls is just that—BS. She lowers her voice. “Bri, what’s going on?”
I shake my head, and press my lips together. How many times will I do that before I remember that sudden movements are not a good thing? “I wiped out skiing yesterday.” The lie I told Mom is the closest I’m getting to the truth. It’s stupid to hide that I was snowboarding, but I’ve spent my life declaring that skiing is the superior, more elegant sport and that boarders are a lower species, and I’m not ready to eat my words. At least not publicly.
“You?” Her eyebrows shoot straight up and she fights a smile.
“Go ahead and laugh.” I giggle despite the pain. “It was pretty epic.”
When we arrive at Ethics, she stops me with a hand on my arm. “I’m not going to pry, but whatever’s going on, I hope you’re okay.” I start to walk to my desk but she’s not done. “And Bri? This less-than-perfect, almost self-deprecating thing suits you.”
Her compliment surprises me. Is that what’s happening to me? Perfection has always been my goal, but it’s like the first crack in my armor started a snowball effect that’s turned me into someone who no longer cares what people think and just wants to be happy. Whatever that means.
“Thanks.”
I puzzle over her comment through class, and I’m still thinking about it when I head to lunch. If I truly am changing, it shouldn’t bother me that Kenzie’s taken over my old table and filled it with a group of sophomores who fawn over her every move. Their eyes track me like I’m somehow still a threat, and a tall, too-skinny brunette glares at me as I make my way to an empty table in the back of the cafeteria. If Kenzie’s the new me, this girl must be the new Kenzie.
“Good luck with that,” I mutter, and she purses her lips at me. I feel like a total loser eating alone, but at least here I can keep an eye on my enemies.
A familiar laugh a few tables from Kenzie’s makes me look up. Austin is doubled over, his hand resting on the back of the chair next to him. Which happens to be holding Mia. Who’s also laughing. When they first started dating I wanted nothing more than to rip the perfect smile off her face, but I have to admit she makes him happy in a way I never could.
/> Or wanted to.
Evan, who seemed stuck in a mopey funk after Mike dumped him, seems to have forgotten his earlier awkwardness. Now his attention is on Mia’s equally pretty friend sitting next to him.
I take out my phone and pretend to answer texts, but no one’s contacted me since Xavier last night. His message was brief—thanks for a fun day—and my reply was equally short. Until I know what’s going on with him I’m sticking to playing hard to get. At least that part of the old me still exists.
By the time I get home, I feel like I slid down the entire mountain chest-first naked and I want nothing more than to crawl into a hot bath, then bed. But a white sign in the front yard stops me cold.
For Sale.
*****
The next day, I pull into the parking lot for community service, still in shock that we’re actually selling the house. Mom’s only comment was “you knew this was coming,” but I can’t help feeling hurt that she didn’t say anything Monday morning. Every few months she acts sort of motherly and yesterday morning would’ve been the perfect time to bring up the fact that, oh hey, I’ve already hired a realtor and the house is on the market.
My muscles aren’t quite as sore today, thank god, because the last thing I want is to be hobbling around in front of Xavier. I debated texting him to tell him how miserable I was but A) I didn’t want to come off as whiny, and B) part of playing hard to get means not texting a boy every day, at least not until you’re sure how they feel about you.
Even though it’s before the shift, I text Dad. 2 more = 6.
Drea waves at me as she gets on the bus. It’s Tuesday, which means Heidi is here, and while Drea warned me that they buddy up, part of me hopes she’ll ditch Heidi. But when I get on the bus, they’re already sitting together.
Drea mouths “sorry” and seconds later my phone buzzes.
Maybe you’ll get paired up with X.
Maybe… I reply. He seems to roll in at the last minute, so it’s not until Bruno boards the bus and gives us the “you know the drill” routine that I start to worry. For as much as I know nothing can happen with Xavier, the thought of seeing him is the only thing that’s gotten me through the past two days. I do a quick head count—the Jocks, Crue and Laina, and Sarah—which means I’ll be with Sarah.
The Edge Rules (The Rules Series Book 3) Page 10