“Naked hot chocolate?” you ask.
“Of course, like a naked coffee—the kind with nothing in it,” he says, as he puts the cups on the table in front of you.
“You totally made that up,” you tell him. “No one calls that a naked coffee.”
He shrugs. “It makes sense though, right? I think people should call that naked coffee. And should call this a naked hot chocolate.” He pushes one of the cups toward you. “I happen to like mine with whipped cream, though. How about you?”
You take the cup, and say, “That’s perfect, because I like mine with marshmallows.”
“Absolutely perfect!” he says, and tips the two huge marshmallows into your hot chocolate. Then he spoons the whipped cream into his. “Cheers?” he says, holding up his whipped-creamed cup.
“Cheers,” you say, touching your cup to his.
You both take a sip, and when you look back at Charlie, he has a mustache of whipped cream. You’re not sure if you should say something, but finally you say, “Um, I think you have whipped cream . . .” and you indicate the space between your lip and nose with your finger.
“Oh, good,” he says, “that’s just where I wanted it.” Then he touches his finger to the whipped cream in his cup and touches it to the tip of his nose. “Here, too,” he tells you.
For a moment you wonder if he’s actually nuts, but then he laughs and wipes all the whipped cream off with a napkin, and you laugh, too.
“So,” he says, “since my friends are lame and bailed on me today, I was thinking about bailing on them tonight and going to that classic film place in town. I’m not totally sure what’s playing, but whatever it is, I’m sure it’ll be interesting. Any chance you want to join?”
You think it might be nice to see a movie with Charlie. But you also think that you could end up seeing something kind of boring and wonder if Charlie would want to change his plans and go in the outdoor hot tub with you instead. You’ve always imagined there would be something really fun and romantic about being in a hot tub while it’s snowing out, and this seems like as good a time as any to test that theory. But then again, you’re not totally sure how romantically you feel about Charlie. He’s fun and funny, but . . . maybe it would be best to turn down his invitation all together. You take another sip of your hot chocolate and make your decision.
Click here if you agree to go—you can’t wait to see what happens in the dark!
- - - - -
Click here if you tell him you’d love to hang out and invite him to meet you at a ski lodge’s outdoor hot tub instead.
- - - - -
Click here if you decide that you’d rather keep looking for someone even more romantic than Charlie.
- - - - -
Don’t like your options?
Click here to go back to being Charlie’s ski buddy.
- - - - -
Click here to go back to the beginning and start over
You smile back at the guy in the lightning bolt helmet and say, “Hey—nice jumping. I liked that one where you grabbed your board.”
The two of you have reached the top of the jump and stop moving. “You were watching?” he asks.
“Just for a minute,” you tell him. “I was deciding whether or not I wanted to try jumping, too.”
“And you decided yes?” He tugs his mitten on a little tighter with his teeth. For some inexplicable reason, you find this sexy.
“I decided yes,” you tell him. “And I decided yes again. I liked how it felt to fly.”
“That’s the best part of boarding,” lightning bolt guy says. “You really do feel like you can fly on this thing, if you do it right. Actually, more so than on skis, I think. My name’s Ethan, by the way.” He sticks out his mitten.
You shake it with your glove and tell him your name. “So you board and ski?” you ask.
He nods. “I grew up around here, so basically I was boarding and skiing before I could even walk right. Have you been skiing for a while?”
“Since I was five,” you tell him. “My family tries to get to a ski mountain at least a few times each winter. But I’ve never tried boarding. It seems scary to have your legs stuck together like that.”
Ethan slides himself a little closer to you. “It might feel weird at first, but you’d get used to it, I bet, and then you could really fly.”
“Maybe I should try that. Maybe tomorrow.” You’ve never really wanted to board before, but the idea of flying . . . you really like that.
“If you do, you should call me. I give lessons sometimes. Not, like, officially, but for people I know. Let me give you my number.”
You wonder if this is a slick way for Ethan to get your number in return. Regardless, you think it might be nice to have a snowboarding lesson from him tomorrow, so you say sure. “But I’m a little afraid of taking my phone out on the middle of the slope . . .” you tell him.
“No worries,” he says. “I’m on it.” And then he unzips a pocket and pulls out a phone that’s somehow tethered to his jacket with a waterproof case and a piece of elastic. He pushes the bottom button and then asks what your phone number is.
You tell him, and he gives his phone a voice command to call you. You feel your phone vibrate in your pocket. “It went through,” you tell him. “I’m vibrating.”
“Oh, are you?” he asks, his eyebrows raised underneath his goggles.
You can’t help yourself. You smile at his lame line.
He clicks his phone off and zips it back into its pocket.
“Listen,” he says. “Some friends and I are going to an under-twenty-one club tonight in town. You seem under twenty-one. Wait, are you?”
You nod. “Sixteen,” you tell him.
He smiles. “Oh! Me, too! So we’re going to this under-twenty-one dance thing at a bar in town. You want to come?”
There’s something kind of fun and daring and out there about Ethan, and you have a feeling that he’d be a perfect person to go to a dance club with. But you’re not completely sure a dance club is your scene.
“I can call you later, if you’re not sure now,” Ethan says. “Now that I have your number.”
But you’ve already decided.
Click here if you agree to go.
- - - - -
Click here if you decide he’s not the right guy to kiss and you want to keep skiing.
- - - - -
Don’t like your options?
Click here to go back to skiing on your own.
- - - - -
Click here to go back to the beginning and start over
You give up on looking around for a guy to flirt with and instead concentrate on skiing. You ski down Pegasus, which has an awesome jump halfway down the middle, and then go for Hercules, which is basically moguls the whole way down. When you get to the bottom, your legs are a little tired, but you feel fantastic. You take the Milky Way chairlift up by yourself and decide to try a double black. According to the trail map, Dorado is the most difficult run on the mountain, so you decide that’s where you’re going.
You ski to the top of Dorado and look down. It’s pretty steep and more than a little curvy, but you’re feeling good. So you take a deep breath and push off. You’re picking up speed a lot faster than you expected, and you decide to ski directly across the mountain to slow yourself down. It works a little bit, but you’re still moving pretty quickly when you turn to go across the mountain in the other direction. You feel the edge of your right ski carve into the snow, but your left ski slides on a patch of ice, pulling your leg forward with it. You flail your arms to try to keep your balance, but it doesn’t help at all and you fall backward into the snow.
Your helmet hits the ground, and as you slide down the mountain, you feel your binding pop and your left ski goes careening down the mountain in front of you. Because it’s so st
eep, it takes a while for you to slow to a stop. When you finally do, your heart is racing and your neck and wrists are icy cold from the snow that crept in around your jacket.
Gingerly, you sit up. Your head feels fine, your back feels fine, all your limbs move, and none of them are in pain. You let out a deep breath. You’re not hurt. Just ski-less. Worst-case scenario, you can take your right ski off and walk down the side of the trail until you reach your left one. It’s not the very best option, but a possibility. The best option would be Ski Patrol, but you’re not sure how often they come by.
As you’re trying to formulate a plan, a woman stops next to you. She looks like she’s in her thirties, and she’s wearing a white ski jacket and a silver helmet. “Are you okay?” she asks.
“Fine, except that I lost my ski,” you tell her, pointing to where your ski stopped about fifty yards below you.
“I’ll tell Ski Patrol when I get to the chairlift,” she says. “I’d suggest staying put, though. This run is steep and icy and not all that safe in ski boots.”
You nod, glad that she has basically figured out your plan for you. “Okay, I’ll wait.”
“Ski Patrol will get here soon, I’m sure.”
“Thanks,” you tell her.
She’s already pushed off again but she turns her head and yells, “No problem!”
You watch her ski for a little bit until her white jacket blends in with the snow and you can’t see her silver helmet anymore.
Then you start thinking about Nate and how annoyed you still are at him for making you look like an idiot in front of the whole school. And how equally annoyed you are at yourself for not figuring things out sooner. But you immediately realize that’s not the most productive line of thinking, so instead you imagine your ideal Ski Patrol rescuer.
You decide it would be a guy who looks nothing like Nate. He’d be tall with red hair and blue eyes, even though they’d be covered with his black ski patrol helmet and orange-tinted goggles. He’d be in college, but maybe just a freshman or sophomore. And he’d be single, of course. He might have a pet, too, since Nate didn’t like animals. Maybe he’d be the type who watches the Food Network. Especially those chef competition shows, which you love but Nate hated.
You’re so busy dreaming of your ideal Ski Patrol guy that you don’t notice when the actual Ski Patrol guy skis up next to you with a red toboggan behind him.
“Are you okay?” he asks.
His voice startles you out of your reverie.
“Oh, hi!” you say to him, maybe with a bit too much cheer. “I’m fine, except my left ski is about a hundred and fifty feet farther down the mountain that I am.”
“I heard,” he says to you. “I’m Jake, by the way.”
You introduce yourself and thank him for rescuing you.
“All in a day’s work,” he says, smiling. “Let me help you on the toboggan.”
He lifts up his goggles to do so, and when he does, you see blue eyes and red eyebrows. You hold in your gasp. Is it possible that you have actually been rescued by your dream Ski Patrol man?
“Can I ask you a weird question?” you say, as he lifts you up out of the snow pile you’ve been sitting in. He’s incredibly strong.
“How weird?” he asks, his eyes twinkling a little.
“Mmm, maybe medium weird?” you tell him.
“Then I guess you can go for it,” he says through a laugh.
As he slips you onto the toboggan, you ask, “Do you happen to have a pet?”
He looks at you funny, and says, “I do, a dog—how come?”
“And are you a freshman or sophomore in college?”
“A junior, actually,” he says. “Are you taking a survey? About people in college with pets?”
That was actually a great excuse. “Yes! I am. Because I’m a junior in high school and I love pets and was thinking I might want to take one with me when I go to college.”
“In that case,” Jake says as he straps you into the toboggan, “I’d actually suggest something a little lower maintenance than a dog. Cats are much easier. Fish, too.”
“Good to know,” you say.
Jake straightens up. “Are you ready to head down to your ski?”
“Never been readier,” you tell him.
Jake takes off with the toboggan behind him and you relax and enjoy the ride. You imagine this would be terrifying if you were actually hurt, but since you’re not, it’s kind of like going sledding.
About forty-five seconds later, Jake stops next to your ski and inspects it. “Looks like it’s fine,” Jake said. “You lucked out. The binding’s not even broken.”
He helps you out of the toboggan and into your ski. His hand on your jacket makes your skin tingle a little. You wonder if he’s feeling the same way.
“But I think I should probably ski down with you the rest of the way, just in case,” he says, keeping his hand on your shoulder maybe a little longer than he needs to.
“Are you sure?” you ask. “There must be some actually hurt people who need your help on the mountain.”
“Totally sure,” Jake tells you. “I wouldn’t be doing my job otherwise. Besides, I’d rather rescue you than, you know, a three-hundred-pound man who doesn’t know how to ski at all, but insisted on going down a black diamond and ended up breaking his leg. You know, when people get hurt on mountains, it’s mostly because they try to ski above their ability level.”
You shudder. “That sounds bad,” you say.
“Oh, it is,” he assures you. “So rescuing you? My lucky day.” He smiles again and squeezes your shoulder.
He really might be your dream Ski Patrol guy—could you possibly, magically have imagined him into being? “Well, thank you,” you say. “But before we ski, I have one more question for you.”
“Yes?” he responds. He looks cute even with his face covered in goggles.
“Do you, by any chance, watch the Food Network?”
“Iron Chef is my favorite show!” he says. “How did you know that?”
“Just a guess,” you tell him. “Okay, let’s go now.”
The two of you ski down to the bottom of Dorado, which, by the way, is much easier than the top, and when you get to the chairlift, you thank him again for rescuing you.
He says you’re welcome, but then looks at you for an extra beat. “Hey,” he says, “since you’re such an animal fan, would you be interested in meeting my dog, Archibald? You can get some more information for your survey. After a fall like that, you might want a break from skiing anyway. And my shift is almost over.”
Click here if you totally melt and agree—nothing is cuter than a boy and his dog.
- - - - -
Click here if you thank him for saving you, but decide he’s not the guy you want to kiss—plus, you don’t think you need a break from skiing at all.
- - - - -
Don’t like your options?
Click here to go back to skiing on your own.
- - - - -
Click here to go back to the beginning and start over
You say yes to Orion’s party invitation and then spend the rest of the day thinking about it. Is it a date? Will he want to kiss you? Will you want to kiss him? Will it be weird to hang out with another guy after Nate?
It’s seven o’clock and you’re supposed to meet Orion at eight. All the clothes you’ve packed for vacation are in a pile on your bed.
“I don’t know what to wear!” you tell Angie. “I’ve never been to a chili and hot chocolate party at a ski lodge before!”
Angie has a pack of frozen peas on her cheek, trying to stave off a disastrous black-and-blue mark, but she removes the peas to inspect your clothes.
“Jeans,” she says. “Definitely jeans.”
You reach into your pile and pick up two pairs. “Straight leg
or boot cut?”
Angie surveys your shoes and the rest of your clothes. “Straight leg,” she says. “Sheepskin boots. Long tank top. Short sweater. The brown one.”
“Okay,” you say, grabbing the articles of clothing she named. “Jewelry?”
“Did you bring that long key necklace you have?”
You shake your head.
“Hoop earrings?” she asks.
You rummage through your makeup case and shake your head again. “I only brought the ones in my ears.” You touch your ears and feel the gold balls there.
“Hmm,” Angie says. “Want to grab my bag over there? I think I have something you can borrow.”
You hand Angie her bag, and she pulls out a pair of gold earrings that dangle down a couple of inches. “Try these,” she says.
You get dressed in the outfit she picked out and then put the earrings on.
“Perfect,” she declares. “Now hair and makeup and you’ll be set.”
You brush your hair and then blow-dry it a little so it’s smooth. Then you curl your eyelashes, and apply blush, eyeliner, mascara, and lip gloss.
“Am I set?” you ask Angie, when you’re all finished.
“Definitely set,” she tells you. “And I know big sisters are supposed to look out for their little sisters and protect them and all that, but in this case, I think looking out for you actually means reminding you to let loose and have fun. Do whatever you need to do to forget that jerk Nate.”
You reach out and hug your sister. “Deal,” you tell her.
Then you put on your coat and head to the ski lodge.
Click to continue.
- - - - -
Don’t like your options?
Click here to go back to asking Orion to help you carry the hot chocolates.
- - - - -
Click here to go back to the beginning and start over
But sometimes what you prefer doesn’t matter. Because Angie’s your sister, and you don’t want to leave her alone when she’s not feeling well on vacation.
Love on the Lifts Page 3