Love on the Lifts

by Jill Santopolo

  He goes left around a huge tree—one that’s probably like ten feet across—and then it’s straight the rest of the way down.

  “We’re almost there!” he yells again. “Get ready to stop!”

  You pop out of the trees onto the regular trail, and since the slope flattens out, your tube stops on its own, right next to Josh’s.

  “What did you think?” Josh asks you.

  “That was fantastic,” you say. “Seriously fun.”

  “Want to do it again?” he asks.

  You nod.

  “Okay,” he says. “The trail I made next to Lyra is even better.”

  You start to get out of your tube. “Wait,” he says. “Can we do something else first?”

  You sit back into your tube and turn to find that he’s slid right next to you. “What do you want to do?” you ask, curious.

  “This,” he says. And he leans forward and kisses you. The shift in weight gets your tubes sliding a little. You’ve never kissed anyone while moving before, and it works for a few seconds until Josh’s tube tips over onto yours.

  Now you’re laughing and he’s laughing and maybe looking a little embarrassed, too.

  “I guess next time I try that I should wait until we’re standing up.”

  “Not a bad idea,” you say, smiling as you roll out from under him. “Next time, we’ll try to stay vertical.”

  Then you both get up with your tubes, matching smiles on your faces. It might not be love on the lifts, but it’s definitely fun. And that was the whole point of the kissing experiment.

  “On to Lyra?” he asks.

  “On to Lyra,” you affirm.

  CONGRATULATIONS!

  You’ve found your happy ending!

  Click here to go back to choosing not to kiss Sam.

  - - - - -

  Click here to go back to the beginning and start over

  As you’re trying to decide, the ski instructor smiles at you, and your decision is made. You ski over and stop right next to him.

  “Hi,” you say. “So is this the advanced lesson?”

  He looks around at the empty snow. “It should be,” he says. “But it seems like no one’s interested at the moment.”

  You pull your goggles up onto your helmet. “I might be,” you say.

  He pulls his goggles up, too, and lifts one of his eyebrows at you. A pretty cool trick. “Have you been evaluated by the mountain?” he asks.

  “Last year,” you tell him. “I was advanced.”

  “Hmm. I’m not supposed to take on any lessons without a current official evaluation from the ski school. It’s a new policy this year because people kept putting themselves in the wrong level.”

  This guy seems like he needs to relax a little. Besides, you’re the only one there! Who really cares what level you’re in! It wasn’t as if you were going to slow down the rest of the class or anything.

  “Oh,” you say. “Well, never mind then, I guess.” No matter how good a body he seems to have beneath his ski clothes, and no matter how chiseled his cheekbones are and how cute a smile he has, he seems not that interested.

  You turn to ski away, but he says, “Wait! I have an idea. Instead of an official lesson, what if I give you an evaluation? It’s not like I have a class to teach or anything.”

  You’re not quite certain what to think. “You sure?” you ask.

  He smiles again. “I’m sure. Let’s go.”

  He stops briefly to talk to an older man, then skis off. You follow behind.

  “Wait!” it’s your turn to say this time. “I don’t even know your name!”

  He stops at the lift area and turns around. “I’m Matthew,” he says. “And you?”

  You tell him your name, and then slide into the “lesson” line on the chairlift and jump in front of everyone. “Best perk of being a ski instructor,” he says.

  Once you’re on the chairlift, Matthew lets out a breath and visibly relaxes. “Okay, we made it,” he tells you. Now the smile on his face is even bigger.

  “Made what?” you ask.

  He pulls the chairlift bar down over both of you. “The new head of the ski school is awful. The guy I stopped to talk to. He’s the one who started the new policy, and he’s on us for everything. The other day he gave me a demerit for having a shirt that hung down below my ski jacket. For real. He said I didn’t look professional.”

  You like this more relaxed version of Matthew. “A shirt hanging below a jacket is unprofessional?” you ask.

  “I guess so,” Matthew says. “And you’re only allowed three demerits before he tosses you off the ski school staff.”

  “That’s terrible!” You can’t believe such a jerk is in charge of the ski school.

  “You’re telling me,” Matthew says. “And I really need this job. I’m starting college next year, and I need a car to get there. My older sister gave me her car, and if I work all season, I should be able to afford the year of insurance. So I can’t get any more demerits.”

  “Yikes,” you say, wanting to ask a little bit about his older sister. And also a little bit about where he’s going to college. But you’re not sure how nosy you can be.

  “So I’m afraid,” he says, “that I’m actually going to have to give you a ski school evaluation.”

  “Oh!” you say. “No problem. It actually would be good to have one anyway. You know, in case I want to take a lesson tomorrow or the next day or something.”

  Matthew raises the bar and the two of you get off the chairlift. “Should we get started?” he asks.

  You nod, and he gives you some instructions. “Okay,” he says. “I’m going to ski down about fifteen yards. I want you to ski to me, making sure to traverse the mountain at least once.”

  You do what he says, feeling a little self-conscious as you do it. All of a sudden, you want to impress this guy with your skiing.

  “Nice form,” he says, when you reach him. “Though I could give you some help with how you’re holding your arms.”

  He runs you through a few more exercises involving turning and stopping and slaloming. It’s actually a little bit fun, but all the stopping in between each exercise is making you extra cold. The next time you pause, while Matthew is explaining an exercise to you, you pull your right glove off and slide your hand up into your jacket sleeve. You think about the hand warmers in your ski bag back at the chalet and wished you’d thought to stick them in your jacket pocket.

  “You cold?” Matthew asks.

  You shrug. “A little,” you tell him. “But nothing I can’t handle.”

  He looks at you for a second, and then slips off his mittens. He has liners underneath them. “Here,” he says. “We’re almost done. But in the meantime, I’ll trade you.”

  You hesitate, but then he takes your right glove and slides his hand inside. It’s a little small, but not too bad. “Here,” he says again.

  You take his mitten and put it on. “Oh that’s so much warmer,” you say.

  “Mittens are amazing,” he tells you. “Seriously, much warmer. My sister taught me that. She taught me to ski, too.”

  You’re about to ask about his sister again, but before you can he moves on.

  “Okay,” he says, “only a few more maneuvers, and you’ll be officially evaluated. Think you can last ten more minutes?”

  “With your mittens on?” you say. “Definitely.”

  After your very last exercise, which was following behind Matthew as exactly as possible, he tells you that your level is advanced, which you pretty much already knew, and that he’s going to make it official in the Galaxy Mountain system.

  “Listen,” he says, “I have another ten minutes before I have to meet up for a private family lesson. If you want, I can take you to the gear shop and help you pick out some mittens.”

  Th
e truth is, if you hadn’t stopped so many times, your gloves would’ve been just fine. You don’t really need a pair of mittens. But there’s something intriguing about Matthew, and you think it might be worth going with him to the gear shop just for that.

  Click here if you agree.

  - - - - -

  Click here if you decide not to.

  - - - - -

  Don’t like your options?

  Click here to go back to thinking about taking a ski lesson.

  - - - - -

  Click here to go back to the beginning and start over

  You head over to the chairlift that leads you to Taurus, the run known for its crazy moguls. You end up riding the chair up with an older woman and her younger son, and they pretty much ignore you while they talk about everything the boy learned in his ski lesson yesterday. You tune them out and look up at the sky. It’s almost all white now, and snow is beginning to do more than flurry.

  You unload at the summit, check the trail map to make sure you know where Taurus is, and then start down the mountain. You make sure to keep your center of balance right over your boots, and hold your poles within your field of vision. You keep your eyes on the path you want to take through the bumps, and go. You’re building up speed, but you’re doing fine. In fact, you’re skiing these moguls faster than you usually do, but you’re totally in control. For a second the thought races through your mind that you’re the Queen of Moguls, but you squash it quickly, because that’s the kind of thinking that can make a person fall. You stay focused and keep your skis in the valleys of the moguls, always tracing the next few feet of your route with your eyes.

  Before you know it, there are only a few more moguls to get around, and then you bend your legs, tuck your poles against your body, and zoom straight down the last bit of the mountain. You hockey stop when you get the bottom, spraying snow everywhere and breathing hard. You’re about to get moving again when someone stops right next to you. It’s a guy in a yellow and gray jacket.

  “You’re amazing,” he says with a slight accent as he lifts up his goggles. His eyes tear from the cold. “I followed your tracks the whole way down.”

  “Thanks,” you say. “I’m not that good though, just had an especially great run.”

  “I don’t know if I believe that,” he answers, sliding his goggles back over his eyes.

  You can’t place his accent. It’s maybe a little French, but not quite. “Where are you from?” you ask, before you wonder if that’s a rude question.

  “Originally Geneva,” he says. “But I came here three years ago for high school. Boarding school, but we’re on break now.”

  You nod. “Me, too. I mean, the break part. I don’t go to boarding school.”

  He laughs. “Well, it’s very nice to meet you. Are you here with your school?”

  He’s very chatty for someone who just randomly skied up to you, but he seems nice, so you keep talking. “No,” you tell him. “Family trip. How about you?”

  “Family trip, too,” he says. “But not my family. My boyfriend’s family. He’s snowboarding down some easy trails with his little sister today, so I’m on my own. He invited me to join them, but—” The guy shrugs. “I’m Laurent, by the way.”

  “Nice to meet you, Laurent,” you say, and introduce yourself.

  He pulls his poles out of the snow where he’d stabbed them. “You heading back to the chairlift?”

  You nod, because you were, and then just like that, the two of you are skiing together into the doubles line at the lift. “Want to ski Taurus with me again?” he asks.

  You would like to ski Taurus again, but you know that if you go with Laurent, you’ll be bailing on Angie’s kissing challenge—at least for a while.

  Click here if you agree.

  - - - - -

  Click here if you decide to keep skiing alone.

  - - - - -

  Don’t like your options?

  Click here to go back to thinking about taking a ski lesson.

  - - - - -

  Click here to go back to the beginning and start over

  “Sure,” you say. “Let’s head over and check out the mittens.”

  Matthew gives you a quick smile and heads in the direction of the base lodge. You follow him and catch up as he’s popping his skis off and leaning them against the wall of the building. You follow suit, and the two of you head toward the gear shop.

  “My sister introduced me to these mittens,” he says. “And they’re absolutely the best. I never ski in anything else.”

  “Your sister sounds pretty cool,” you say. You’ve never met a boy who talks so much about his sister.

  “She’s the best,” Matthew tells you. “She’s twelve years older, and there are four brothers in between us. They were all pretty tough on me, but she—” He shrugs. “She looked out for me.”

  So Matthew’s the youngest of six. That must be intense. You don’t know anyone who has that many siblings.

  “What about your parents?” you ask.

  “My dad’s a merchant mariner, so he’s on a boat for two months at a clip, and my mom’s a nurse, so she works long hours. Lizzie was in charge a lot.”

  “And you were totally her favorite,” you say.

  He shrugs again and smiles a little. “Yeah,” he says. “So she taught me to ski. My brothers already knew how and didn’t want me to slow them down. She didn’t care. When I teach little kids at ski school, I think about the way she taught me.”

  Your heart melts a little bit when he says that. “I bet she’s really proud of you,” you say.

  Matthew’s smile is a little bigger this time. “Yeah,” he says. “I think she is.”

  The two of you have made it to the gear shop, and Matthew opens the door for you. You walk through and he follows, calling out for Georgina, who apparently is the girl behind the counter.

  “My new friend here needs a pair of mittens just like mine,” he says. “Can you give her my employee discount?”

  You turn to him. “Oh, you totally don’t have to do that!” you say.

  “It’s okay,” he tells you. “I don’t mind. If there’s anything else you need, you can use my discount on that, too.”

  You start to protest, but then change your mind. It doesn’t cost him anything to let you use his discount. It’s definitely nice though.

  “I think I might need ChapStick,” Matthew says, picking up a tube. “Do you know if this one will look too red on my lips?”

  “It’s hard to tell unless you break the seal and open the cap,” you answer.

  He laughs. “Good point,” he says. “Maybe I’ll buy it anyway. It’s only, like, two dollars with my discount.”

  “If it looks too red, you can give it to your sister,” you suggest.

  “Not a bad plan,” he answers, and walks over to Georgina with two singles.

  You take out your credit card to pay for the mittens. You’re pretty sure your parents won’t mind. Especially because with Matthew’s discount, you’re not paying all that much for a really nice pair of mittens.

  You sign the receipt, as Matthew unseals his ChapStick.

  “Want to test it out for me?” he asks. “Just in case it looks like lipstick when it’s on?”

  You laugh. “No problem,” you tell him. You take the ChapStick and swipe it across your lips. “What do you think?” you ask.

  “Not too red at all,” he tells you. “Is it sticky?”

  You press your lips together. “Don’t think so,” you say.

  “Hmm,” he answers. “That doesn’t sound definitive. I think I need to see for myself.”

  You hand him the ChapStick, but instead of putting it on, he leans over and lightly presses his lips against yours. The kiss is quick and surprising, but also kind of nice. Actually, very nice. His lips are so
ft and warm, and just as they start feeling good, pressed there against yours, they’re gone.

  “Not sticky,” he says, looking up at you shyly.

  And you wonder if this sweet sort of kiss is the kind Angie had in mind when told you to find love on the lifts. According to Matthew, big sisters are right about a lot of things. And you think that perhaps Angie was right about this.

  CONGRATULATIONS!

  You’ve found your happy ending!

  Click here to go back to taking a ski lesson.

  - - - - -

  Click here to go back to the beginning and start over

  As handsome as Matthew is—and as interested as you are in finding out about his relationship with his sister—you just don’t get a kissing vibe from him, and according to your sister, that’s what you’re supposed to be looking for today: someone to kiss. So you tell him that you think you’ll be okay with your gloves.

  “But thank you for the loan,” you say, trading his mittens back for your gloves.

  “No problem at all,” he says. “If you change your mind later, just ask whoever’s in the gear shop for the Outdoor Research Alti mittens. And I’ll make sure you’re in the ski school system by the end of the day.”

  “Great,” you say. “Thanks for all of that.”

  You wave good-bye and ski off, your brain still wondering slightly about Matthew.

  Click here to continue.

  - - - - -

  Don’t like your options?

  Click here to go back to taking a ski lesson.

  - - - - -

  Click here to go back to the beginning and start over

  “I think,” you say, preparing to lie a little, “that my parents are going to want me home tonight. You know, it’s a family vacation and all.”

  Charlie nods. “I get it,” he says.

  “But thank you for the offer,” you add. “And the hot chocolate.”

  Charlie rubs the tiny bit of stubble on his chin. “I think I should probably head back out there,” he says. “So I can get a bit more skiing in before going back to the guys. Don’t want them to have too much fun while I’m not around.”