by CJ Martín
“Of course you are.” He plops down on the bed next to me.
“Rob!” I glare at him. “You know I hate parties. Besides I can’t dance.” I gesture at my injured ankle. “I can’t drink with the pain medicine I’m taking. I won’t know anyone there. Shall I go on?”
“You’ll know us,” Maria says in support. “And Charles. And Chelsea. And Nikki. We won’t leave you alone.”
“Says the girl who left me alone on the bunny slope.” I pout.
“You still pissed about that?” She swipes some gloss over her lips. “I thought I was doing you a favor by signing you up for that lesson. If it weren’t for me you’d be stuck in the lodge all day reading on your damn Kindle.”
Actually that sounds perfect right now. “Because of you I have a sprained ankle.” I stick my tongue out.
“Touché.” She grins, sticking her tongue out at me in response.
Rob nudges me with his shoulder. “So you going?”
“Do I have a choice?” I grimace.
Chelsea comes out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel. “Hey!” She squeals. “Rob, get out!”
“Okay, okay. Going,” he says, barely shielding his eyes as he backs out of the room.
“Go take a shower.” Maria instructs me. “Nikki will be back soon. And you know how long she takes to get ready.”
A half-hour later I’m rooting through my suitcase trying to figure out what to wear. I pull out a pair of black leggings and a long grey cashmere sweater. I also grab a black camisole and a pair of black and grey striped leg warmers. Once dressed, I finger comb my loose brown curls. Swiping some gel through my hair, I scrunch the waves and blow it dry.
Maria finds me in front of the bathroom mirror applying some powder to my face. “Not straightening it?” She looks at my hair.
“Please. You know that only happens like twice a year.”
“But this party is going to be banging. I heard there are going to be tons of pro-boarders there tonight. Joshua Jensen and Anthony Larsen for sure.”
“I have no idea who those people are.” I shrug, trying to look nonchalant.
She grabs her phone and pulls up images. “Here.” She shoves the phone under my nose and I’m bombarded with several images. My eyes sweep the screen and land on the last figure. I can’t see his eyes because of the goggles, but from the build, it looks like the guy from yesterday. I pull my fingers apart on the screen to blow up the image so I can read the name on the right breast of the coat, but my stomach sinks in fear of what I already know what it’ll say. Vik. Suspicions confirmed, my hands begin to shake. I drop the phone.
“You okay?” Maria pauses from applying her makeup.
“Fine.” I quickly pick up the phone and hand it back to her. “So is that what you’re wearing?” I take in her fitted purple dress and tall black boots.
“Yep.” She smacks hers lips together before blotting them on a tissue.
“D-do I look okay?” I ask, voice unsure.
“Of course,” she says, but I can’t help but feel like the frumpy friend. She’s prime rib. I’m an item from the dollar menu.
Still, I don’t change. For one, I don’t have anything else. Sure, Maria, or Nikki, or Chelsea, would gladly loan me one of their skimpy outfits, but I don’t even consider that possibility because I’ll freeze. Besides, the leg warmers and my Ugg sweater boots will cover my ever-so-attractive bandage.
The (in)famous fall happened only yesterday, but the combination of painkillers and bandage have helped a great deal. I barely did anything today, keeping to myself as the rest of our gang hit the trails. Again. Rob did offer to stay back to hang with me, but I felt guilty. So I pretended that my foot really hurt and told him that I was going to lie down so I could rest it.
“You girls ready?”
I peek around the bathroom door to see Charles walk in, Rob following close behind.
“Almost,” Nikki says from the bedroom, and Maria and I both roll our eyes.
“Ten minutes,” Charles calls out, annoyed. “We don’t want to get there too late.”
“It’s called being fashionably late.” Nikki scolds.
“Not when you’re late by two hours.” Rob backs Charles up.
“Ready.” I step out from the bathroom. Maria is less than a minute behind me.
“El, you look—” Rob begins but Charles cuts him off.
“Warm.” Charles smiles.
“Shut up,” I smile. “You know I’m always cold. And this party is like what? A fifteen minute walk? That’s gonna be closer to a half-hour for me.”
“I’ll walk with you,” Rob says.
“Thanks Rob. I’m glad someone cares.” I give Charles a pointed look. Then turning back to Rob I say, “You’re such a good friend.”
His smile slips a little but he says nothing more.
“Ready.” Nikki appears behind us wearing dark skinny jeans and a halter top. Her blonde hair is slicked back into a ponytail accentuating her high cheekbones. She is stunning. But does she not realize it is five degrees outside?
“About time,” Charles says, but then asks, “Chels? You coming? You have the tickets.”
Chelsea comes out of the second bedroom wearing a hunter green sweater dress cinched at the waist with a skinny leather belt, and her dark brown boots match perfectly. Her pixie haircut is styled perfectly to frame her heart shaped face.
“Right here.” She hands each of us a ticket.
“Let’s roll.” Maria ushers us forward.
“Getting turned up tonight.” Charles whoops, and we laugh as we head out the door.
I shouldn’t be here. Technically it isn’t forbidden, but my coach, my sponsors, my parents—they would all frown upon it. But, fuck it. I’m twenty-four years old, a grown man. No one is going to tell me what to do.
I head to the back of the lodge where the kegs are set up. I spot JJ easily and he calls out to me. “Vik! My man, what up?”
“Nothing, man. How’s Boulder?” There’s a slight edge to my voice I don’t bother to hide. Of course he’s boarding Boulder while I’m stuck in this hellhole.
“Same old. We miss you,” he says sincerely.
“Miss me kicking your ass.” I joke. “Lars here yet?
“No. Kristian got here about a half-hour ago. And I just saw Pete head off with some redhead.”
“Some things never change.” I chuckle and scan the room. Oh. Fuck. Blondie is here. How the fuck did she get an invite? She was supposed to be leaving today. Or was it tomorrow? I really need to start paying better attention.
“Beer?” JJ asks, already handing me a cup.
“You know it.” I take a big swig from the cup and lean back on the stone fireplace.
“How’ve things been here?” His eyes scan the room, landing on Blondie who has just spotted me.
“Fine.” I shrug.
“You hook up with her?” He tips his head in Blondie’s direction.
“Who?” I play dumb.
“Blond. Big tits. Red sweater.”
“Maybe,” I say with a sly smile.
“Fuck. Lucky bastard.” He pounds my shoulder.
“Yeah well, I have no desire to see her again. I gotta go.”
“That’s cold man,” he calls after me.
I wave my hand at him but I’m already on the move. I need to put some distance between Blondie and me. Dammit, she moves fast. My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I tuck into a corner to check the message.
My mother. Shit. I never did return her call. I slip my phone back into the front of my jeans and turn to leave, but something catches my eye. Rather someone catches my eye.
A petite girl is curled up in one of the side chairs, feet tucked up underneath her. She’s covered head to toe, wearing black leggings and a soft grey sweater. Her hair falls in loose waves and it drapes over her shoulders and down her back. She is oblivious to my presence; her head is bent in concentration over her phone.
I clear my throat, but she still doesn’
t look up. Interesting. I think she may be playing hard to get. Some girls think I like that. I clear my throat again and finally say, “Excuse me.”
Slowly she turns her gaze in my direction, blinking as though I’ve startled her, and when she meets my gaze, her round chocolate eyes captivate me.
“Yes?” Her voice is uncertain. It’s almost as if she doesn’t want to be bothered with me. Me. Anders fucking Vik. Number one ranked snowboarder in the world.
Not expecting her reaction, I falter before I regain my confidence. “Is this seat taken?” I gesture to the empty chair facing her.
“Uh, no,” she says, before glancing back down at her phone.
There’s a small round table between the two oversized chairs, and it’s awkward as fuck as I try to squeeze my big frame between the table and her chair. She makes no attempt to move, just keeps her nose down in her phone.
Once seated, I take another sip of my beer. I allow myself a few moments to stare at her. She’s beautiful in an understated way. She barely wears any makeup, but her eyes are so big and round that they immediately draw attention. Her lips appear soft and plump and her nose turns up a little bit at the end. She has a beauty mark right above the right corner of her mouth and I have an uncontrollable urge to kiss it. Her hair is long and glides down her back. I itch to run my fingers through it to see if it’s as soft as it looks.
I scan the rest of her body. She is really petite and her sweater dwarfs her, so I can’t see her rack. I’m guessing she’s a B, maybe a C-cup at the most. My cock twitches as I imagine myself stripping her of that bulky sweater so I can find out.
Silence ensues, and when she makes no attempt at conversation I say, “So why are you hiding in the corner?”
She glances up again and looks shocked that I’m still there. “I’m not hiding,” she says primly.
“No?” I raise an eyebrow.
“No.” She turns her attention back to her phone. I wonder what the fuck is so interesting on that phone?
“Well, I think you should dance with me,” I say confidently.
“What?” She looks up again, eyes wide and a hint of pink on her cheeks.
“Come on.” I gesture to her with my hand. “Nobody puts Baby in the corner.”
As soon as I say it, I realize how corny it is, but my sister Brit made me watch Dirty Dancing a thousand times when we were kids, and it kinda just slipped out. I’m thinking of ways to backpedal, when something magical happens: she giggles.
She giggles and it’s the sweetest, cutest sound I’ve ever heard. And I realize in that moment that I would do anything, say anything to hear it again.
“Really?” she says as gets her giggling under control.
“Yeah,” I say, momentarily stunned.
“Sorry.” Her smile is genuine. “I can’t dance.” She turns her attention back to her phone.
“You can’t be that bad. I’ll teach you.”
She looks up again, amusement in her eyes. “No, not that I don’t dance. I can’t dance. I hurt my ankle.” She extends her right leg forward, propping it on the table and I imagine her legs wrapped around my waist as I fuck her senseless. I bet she’s a screamer.
“Skiing accident?” I ask knowingly.
“Something like that.”
She drops her gaze back to her phone and I can’t bite back my curiosity any longer. “What is on your phone that’s so interesting?”
“What?” She drops it in her lap.
“Your phone.” For a few brief seconds I consider grabbing it out of her lap, but don’t feel like getting bitch slapped for trying to cop a feel.
“Oh. I was reading.” She looks at me dead-on for the first time since our conversation began. I see her gasp as she takes in my appearance, but it’s not the usual gasp of recognition. Her gasp is more curious. Apprehensive. “You look…” Her voice trails off and I prepare myself for the moment when realization will set in, but it never comes. “Your eyes,” is all she says, and then returns her focus to her phone.
I exhale audibly. Can it be true that she doesn’t recognize me? It’s possible. I mean seriously, who reads at a party? On their phone? Maybe this girl is a nerd. A social reject. But she certainly doesn’t look like one. And for reasons that I don’t fully understand, I don’t get up to leave. This is a good spot to avoid Jessica, I tell myself, but deep down I know that’s just an excuse.
“So what are you reading? Fifty Shades?”
She giggles again, and I find myself smiling in response. She switches her phone off before dropping it onto the table. “No.” She looks at me intently. “The Alchemist.”
“I’m not going to even pretend to know what that is.” I say in way of a response. She looks down again awkwardly but I want her to keep talking so I ask, “What happened to your foot?” I nudge her booted foot gently with my knee.
“It’s embarrassing.” A rush of color floods her cheeks.
“You can tell me.” I smile, turning up the charm. I really don’t know why I’m working so hard. There are a hundred other girls at this party that all I’d have to do is give them one look and it’d be a done deal.
Her eyes are hesitant as she looks up at me, a small smile playing on her lips. “Let me just begin by saying I’m not much of a skier. I didn’t even want to come here for winter break.”
“And?” I prompt, matching her easy smile.
“My friends are all expert skiers and I’ve never been on skis. Anyhow, I got guilted into coming here. So while all of my friends were skiing Diamondback, I got stuck on the Bunny Slope with a bunch of bratty five-year olds.”
I can’t hold back my laugh, and she giggles again before continuing. “So there I was, attempting to ski down this mammoth slope when I fell and lost my poles. When I finally got up, one of the little brats pushed me down the mountain.”
“The bunny slope is hardly a mountain,” I cut in before taking another swig of my beer.
“Quiet.” She silences me with a look, but she’s smiling. “Not to mention that the kids called me an old lady. Talk about a self-esteem boost.” She giggles again.
I sit there captivated by this inane story, watching her facial expressions as she talks.
“So there I was, barreling full force down the mountain and almost crashed into this snowboarder. Needless to say, I lost my balance and twisted my ankle.”
The blood drains from my face as I register her words. The puzzle pieces click into place. One by fucking one.
Snowboarder. Bunny slope. Michelin.
Well I didn’t see this particular twist coming. The bottoms drops out and the knot in my stomach grows. No. It couldn’t possibly be. This hot girl cannot be Michelin.
My easy smile from only moments before fades. I realize with dawning clarity that I’m the snowboarder that she almost crashed into. My mind replays over the scene from yesterday. I was horrible to this girl. I was an asshole. But I don’t think she recognizes me. Or at least if she does, she hasn’t said anything.
“When did this happen?” I ask in desperation, needing final confirmation.
“Late yesterday afternoon. The medic said to take it easy. So sadly, no dancing.” She pats her leg.
“Well at least you got to the medic,” I say, trying to salvage the situation.
“Barely.” She shakes her head. “The snowboarder helped me, but he was such an asshole. He scolded me for wearing too many pairs of gloves.”
“Three pairs of gloves are ridiculous.” I snap in defense.
“Hey, how did you know I was wearing three pairs?” She questions, tilting her head.
“Lucky guess.” I quickly recover. “Do you know who it was?” My voice sounds innocent, even though I’m guilty as fuck.
“No. His jacket said Vik or something like that. That’s what the medic called him, anyway. I should really find him to say thank you.” She sweeps her gaze around the party, but we’re mostly shielded from view by the pillar so she can’t really see anybody.
“Why? You said he was an asshole.”
“He was. But he stilled helped me. He could’ve just left me there.”
“That would have been a dick move.”
“Agreed.” She giggles again. “So what brings you to the corner?”
“Reading.” I dead pan and tap my phone in my pocket. She giggles again.
“What’s your name?” She asks shyly.
“Anders.” How the hell did that slip out? No one calls me that. I should’ve just come clean and said “Vik.” It’s not like I’ll ever see her again.
“Elena.” She extends her hand formally.
“Giggles,” I say, taking her hand.
“What?”
“Giggles. That’s what I’m going to call you.”
She tilts her head in thought. “Why?”
Good question. Because I love the sound of your laugh. Because it’s sexy as hell when you bite your lip trying to stop yourself from giggling. But I say, “It suits you.”
She’s about to respond when her gaze drifts over my shoulder and her eyes light up in recognition. “Rob.” Her smile is warm and genuine as the guy approaches.
He comes to stand beside her, giving her his full attention, and ignoring me completely. I immediately size him up. Average build, about five feet ten with a dark brown crew cut. He wears dark jeans and a navy sweater. Your average college frat boy.
“El.” He beams at her and I know instantly that he wants to fuck her. Join the club. “Whatcha doing over here?” He plops down on the corner of her chair and leans into her. I want to punch him in the face.
“My ankle hurt. Just resting for a bit.” She smiles at him.
“Wanna go?” He nudges her shoulder. “I can walk you back.”
“No,” she replies. “Rob, don’t worry about me. I’m entertaining myself.”
Really? So what am I? The invisible man? I know it’s childish and immature, but I clear my throat loudly to gain their attention.
“Oh,” she says, bringing her eyes back to me. Rob touches her again. Three times in as many minutes. Not that I’m counting or anything. “This is my friend Rob. Rob this is…”
A cool rush of relief courses washes through my veins. She said friend. He’s her friend. But that feeling of relief evaporates when Rob turns his eyes to me. They go wide as recognition lights up his features. “Vik!” he says loudly.