Love on the Lifts

by Jill Santopolo

  “I think I’m done for the day, too,” you tell her. “Let’s head home.”

  The two of you pop your skis on one last time to ski down to the chalet your parents rented.

  “Movie?” you ask Angie when you get through the door.

  “Yeah, let’s see what’s on.” She flops onto the couch and clicks on the television. “When Harry Met Sally!” she yells. “It just started!”

  “I’ll make us some grilled cheeses and popcorn and be right in,” you tell her. When Harry Met Sally is one of your favorite sister movies. You’ve watched it a million times, mostly when you were younger and your parents went out for dinner. You and Angie basically have the whole thing memorized.

  As you slice the block of cheddar your parents bought last night on the way to the house and heat up the pan you found in the cabinet, you think about Nate and When Harry Met Sally. Maybe Nate is your Sheldon or your Joe, and your Harry is somewhere out there waiting for you. And maybe you’ll have to trust the universe to drop that Harry into your life when you’re ready for him. In the meantime, having grilled cheese and popcorn and watching a movie with your sister seems like a pretty great way to spend an afternoon.

  Especially because when you head into the living room with lunch, Angie has her manicure set out and a copy of Vogue open next to her.

  “So since we’re home for the afternoon, I figured we might as well make good use of our time,” she says. “I saw this manicure on the plane and dog-eared the page. Think you can copy it?”

  You look at the picture. It’s like a backward French manicure, where most of the model’s nail is light pink, but the little half-moons near her nail bed are black.

  “This looks like an expert-level manicure,” you say. “I can’t figure out how they get such a perfect edge on the half-moon part.”

  You and Angie inspect the picture together. “Go to Google?” she asks.

  You pull out your phone and Google How do I do a backward French manicure?

  Information on “Reverse French Manicures” pops up on the screen.

  “Got it!” you say.

  You click open the link and it talks about using not-too-sticky tape cut in the shape of a C, kind of like the same way you’d use painter’s tape to get perfect edges when you’re painting a room.

  “We don’t have tape here,” you tell Angie, “but maybe Band-Aids will do just as well. And we can cut them with your nail scissors.”

  Angie ruffles your hair, and you duck out from underneath her. “You’re gonna mess it up!” you say, but she throws a pillow at you. “Do you care? It’s just me here.”

  She does have a point. You stick your tongue out at her even though you’re not eight anymore. Somehow she manages to bring out your inner eight-year-old, though. “I’m getting Band-Aids,” you tell her.

  And then while Harry falls in love with Sally on-screen, you and your sister fall in love with the impressively professional-looking manicures you do for each other.

  “We’re pretty fantastic,” Angie says, admiring both your fingers and her own.

  “We are,” you say. And you realize that’s something that’s important to remember. It doesn’t always take a boy to make you feel good—sometimes all it takes is your sister.

  CONGRATULATIONS!

  You’ve found your happy ending!

  Click here to go back to sitting with Angie in the lodge.

  - - - - -

  Click here to go back to the beginning and start over

  Charlie seems as if he might be sensing your indecision and taps on his phone.

  “Would the invitation be more appealing if I told you the movie was Casablanca?” he asks. “And that it’s my favorite movie ever?” he adds.

  He loves Casablanca? This is an interesting development in the Charlie situation. You’ve never seen Casablanca, but you’ve always wanted to.

  You smile at him. “It actually would,” you say. “I haven’t seen that movie before, but I’ve heard it’s awesome.”

  “Oh, it is,” he assures you. “It’s fantastic. But I don’t want to say anything more in case I spoil something.”

  He seems so excited that you can’t help but feel excited, too.

  “Let’s go back to skiing,” he says, standing up and stacking your empty hot chocolate cups along with the cups that held the whipped cream and marshmallows. “The movie starts at seven tonight, so we should get in as many runs before then as we can!”

  Charlie holds out his hand and you take it. He helps you up from your seat, and you wonder if he learned his classy manners from classy movies.

  Click here to continue.

  - - - - -

  Don’t like your options?

  Click here to go back to drinking hot chocolate in the lodge with Charlie.

  - - - - -

  Click here to go back to the beginning and start over

  “I’d love to hang out with you tonight,” you tell Charlie. “But what would you think of an alternate plan, instead of the movies.”

  Charlie rubs the stubble on his chin. “I’m intrigued,” he says. “What did you have in mind?”

  “Well,” you say. You feel your ears getting hot and are glad they’re covered by your hair. You don’t want Charlie to see your ears blush. “I’ve always had this dream . . .”

  Charlie leans forward in his seat. “Yes?” he says.

  “Not really a dream,” you tell him. “More a . . . well . . . a fantasy.”

  He raises his eyebrows, and you wonder if you’ve really said the wrong thing. “I’m in your fantasies already?” he asks.

  “I mean, you could be,” you tell him, and now your whole face feels hot. You know you’re blushing for sure, but you forge ahead. “I’ve always wanted to hang out with a guy in an outdoor hot tub while it’s snowing. And well, it’s been snowing on and off all day. And, um, any chance you’re interested?”

  You can’t believe you actually said all of that, and you can tell Charlie is amused. It looks as if he’s biting his lip to keep from laughing.

  “I’m absolutely interested,” he says. Then he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. “You know, you’re totally adorable.”

  “Thanks,” you say, uncertain how else to answer.

  Charlie stands and offers you his hand. “So until then, shall we ski?” he asks.

  Now it’s your turn to say, “Absolutely.”

  Click here to continue.

  - - - - -

  Don’t like your options?

  Click here to go back to drinking hot chocolate in the lodge with Charlie.

  - - - - -

  Click here to go back to the beginning and start over

  Saying yes to Ethan’s club invitation led to spending the day with him, alternating between skiing down mountains while he boarded next to you and watching him do tricks on a half-pipe. A friend of his, Ashley, taught you how to do a few tricks on your skis, which made your heart race and your adrenaline pump, kind of like being with Ethan did. There was something magnetic—and a little exhilarating—about him.

  “Okay,” Ethan says as the sun starts to set on the mountain. “Meet me at the Butter Rum at nine. I promise it’ll be even more fun than that half-pipe.” He winks at you and takes off.

  You make it back to the house your parents have rented and jump into a hot shower to warm yourself up. When you get out, you climb into sweatpants and a sweatshirt and slip your feet into fuzzy slippers. You peek into Angie’s room and see that she’s asleep under the covers.

  “Hey, kiddo,” your dad says as he walks in with a bag of groceries. “Good day skiing?”

  You nod. “How about you and Mom?”

  “Oh, you know us,” he said. “We did a few runs in the morning, but then spent the day in town. Almost bought a sculpture of a giant melting Popsic
le for the study, but then decided against it.”

  You laugh, not completely sure if your dad is serious. You wouldn’t put it past them to buy one if somehow sculptures of giant melting Popsicles became cool within their circle of friends.

  “Anyway, we got four different kinds of cheese and a few bottles of Sauvignon Blanc, because I found a fondue pot in the kitchen this morning. Dinner’s going to be fantastic. Just like we’re in the Alps.”

  Your mom comes in carrying the wine and asks about your day, too.

  “I met a great snowboarder,” you tell her. “And some of his friends. They invited me to a dance party tonight at Butter Rum—an under-twenty-one thing. At nine. Can I go?”

  “Oh, Butter Rum! We saw that place in town,” your dad says. “It looked nice. Very speakeasy meets ski chalet.”

  “Is Angie coming with you?” your mom asks.

  You shake your head. “She’s tired. Napping in her room,” you tell them.

  “I think it’s okay,” your dad says. “Just keep your cell phone on. And be back by midnight.”

  “Eleven thirty,” your mom amends.

  “Eleven thirty,” your dad repeats.

  You nod. “Eleven thirty it is.”

  After dinner you slip into a pair of skinny jeans, a tight black tank top, and a sheer hot-pink sweater. After some cajoling, you get Angie to let you wear her super-high-heeled booties.

  “It’s all so I can kiss someone!” you tell her. “Love on the lifts and all that, remember?”

  She smiles. “I can’t wait to tell Cole about this,” she says as she hands over the shoes.

  Butter Rum isn’t far, but your dad insists on dropping you off. “Call if you need a pickup,” he says. “Otherwise, I’ll be up waiting at eleven thirty.”

  You nod, and then head inside. You spot Ethan immediately. His blond curls are springing all over the place now that they’re not smashed down by his helmet. He looks over as you enter and you raise your hand in a small wave.

  “Hey!” he calls from the bar. “Steve, give her a bracelet, on me!”

  A guy who you presume is Steve steps forward and snaps a yellow plastic bracelet around your wrist. “Unlimited sodas,” he tells you.

  “Thanks,” you say.

  Ethan has made his way over to you. “Glad you made it,” he says as he slips an arm around your shoulders. “Ready to dance?”

  You feel that magnetic pull and say, “Sure, let’s go.”

  Ethan slides his hand down to your waist and then guides you through the crowd in the front room until you reach a big space in the back that has a flashing disco ball and a DJ and a crowd that seems to be pulsing to the rhythm of the music.

  Ethan pulls you into the gyrating throng of people and starts moving to the beat. You don’t feel as if you’re quite relaxed enough to dance yet, but you slowly start moving with him. He pulls you close with one arm and whispers, “Close your eyes.” You do, and somehow you can feel the music more now. Your body is moving with it—and with Ethan’s.

  You dance like that for a while, and then Ethan grabs your hand. “Come on!” he says. There are so many people that you’re glad he’s holding on tight. Then you’re up on the stage with him, and he yells to the crowd below, “We’re going to jump!”

  Hands go up, and Ethan tightens his grip on you and whispers. “Better than the half-pipe, I swear.”

  The two of you leap from the stage and you feel hands and hands and more hands catch you, holding you up and moving you farther from the stage. Ethan’s fingers are still interwoven with yours, so you’re moving as a unit.

  “Isn’t this amazing?” you hear him yell.

  You look up at the flashing disco lights and feel the music as if it’s inside you as you give yourself over to the crowd.

  “Yes!” you yell back. “It is!”

  As you move from person to person, you wonder if you’ll kiss Ethan after this. You’re pretty sure you will. Dancing turns so easily into kissing, and he was holding you so close before. But you decide it doesn’t even matter. He’s already opened your eyes to a world that is nothing like what you’ve experienced before and has absolutely nothing to do with Nate. Apparently, you didn’t need a kiss to move on, just the chance to try something new and wonderful.

  CONGRATULATIONS!

  You’ve found your happy ending!

  Click here to go back to admiring Ethan’s snowboarding skills.

  - - - - -

  Click here to go back to the beginning and start over

  Jake’s blue eyes sparkle when he smiles at you. You wonder if it’s the color that makes them twinkle like that.

  “Maybe you’re right,” you tell him. “Maybe I do need to take it easy for a little. How far is Archibald from here?”

  Jake looks at his watch. “About five minutes on the snowmobile,” he says. “I live on the resort property—in the apartments they reserve for staff. And my shift is done in about ten minutes. Do you have regular boots in the lodge?”

  You look down at your feet and realize that you don’t. You skied right out of the house that morning. “Sorry,” you say. “My family’s staying in one of the chalets on the mountain—the ski-in ski-out ones.”

  “Okay.” He checks his watch again. “How about you come with me to Ski Patrol headquarters so I can hand in my walkie-talkie and tell them I’m going, then I’ll snowmobile you to your house so you get boots, and then you can come meet Archie.”

  You can tell already that Jake is a planner, and you like that. You wonder if he has anything planned for when you get to his apartment to meet his dog.

  “Sounds good to me,” you tell him. “Hey, what’s your last name?”

  “You mean in case I kidnap you?” he asks, smiling.

  “Exactly,” you answer. “You seem like you might be very dangerous. You know, the Ski Patrol thing and all. Only very dangerous people want to help people who get hurt on ski mountains.”

  “O’Connor,” he says through a laugh.

  You follow Jake to the Ski Patrol HQ, and while he’s doing whatever Ski Patrol things need to be done, you pull out your cell and text Angie. “Fell on the mtn and met cute ski patrol. Jake O’Connor. Going w. him to meet dog Archibald in staff apts. B home soon. U ok?”

  “K,” comes shooting back over your phone. “I’m fine. C U later.”

  “Later,” you write back.

  When you look up from your phone, Jake is walking back to you. “All ready?” he asks.

  “All ready,” you tell him.

  He picks up your skis and poles right along with his and leads you to a snowmobile. You’ve never ridden in one of these things before and are a little excited about it.

  Jake secures all your gear onto the snow-mobile, and you find yourself admiring his profile. You weren’t able to see it when he had all his gear on, but it’s a nice one. And nothing like Nate’s. Then he climbs onto the snowmobile. You bang your ski boots together to get as much ice and snow off as you can, and then climb onto the seat behind him. The seats are only separated by a little bump in the plastic-y material—it’s kind of like riding behind someone on a motorcycle.

  “There are hand grips next to the seat,” he says, “but you can also hold on to me, if that feels more secure.”

  You don’t waste too much timing thinking about it, and wrap your arms around Jake’s ski jacket.

  He turns and smiles at you before he puts the snowmobile in drive and heads over to the chalets on the side of the mountain.

  “That one,” you say, pointing, when he gets close to the house you’re staying in.

  Jake stops the snowmobile. You jump out and so does he. “I got your skis,” he says. “You want to go in and get yourself some boots?”

  “Okay,” you tell him. You open the garage from a panel next to the door and sit down on a lit
tle bench inside the garage. You snap open your ski boots and pull your feet out. It feels so good to have them free that you almost moan in pleasure. You slide your feet into the pair of sheepskin boots you left by the door this morning and head back to the front of the garage to find Jake, who has leaned your skis and poles against the rack the house’s owners installed in the garage wall.

  “Better?” he asks.

  “So much,” you tell him. “On to Archibald?”

  He runs his fingers through his hair, making it stick up a little, which is especially adorable. “On to Archibald,” he says.

  A few minutes later, you pull up at a small apartment house that has a door on the bottom floor and then stairs and another door on the top floor. “I’m downstairs,” Jake tells you. “So Archie can have a doggie door. My roommates work the concession, so they’re out for the day.”

  “Do you like having roommates?” you ask.

  “Is this for your survey?” he asks back, smiling.

  You shrug. “Just curious. I’ve never had a roommate before.”

  “It’s nice having people to come home to,” he tells you. “But it’s also a pain in the butt when someone drinks all the milk and doesn’t buy another carton and then you go to have cereal and you pour out a bowl of your favorite Frosted Mini-Wheats and . . . no milk. Very disappointing. And when someone brings home, like, six people to hang out when you still have one final left to take the next morning. But mostly it’s nice. It makes me miss my brothers a little less. For your survey, that was one of the hardest parts about going away to college for me. Being away from my brothers.”

  He pushes the door open, and a snow-covered sheepdog comes bounding across the living room barking as if he has a very important story to tell.

  “Archie!” Jake says as the dog jumps up, puts his front paws on Jake’s shoulders, and starts licking his face. Jake turns to you. “This monster is Archibald,” he says. Archie turns to you and starts licking your face as well. It’s slobbery, but it tickles, too, and you start to giggle.