They rode in silence for several long minutes, watching the skiers dart around beneath them. Adam swung his skis, gently rocking them back and forth.
“Could you not do that?” Beth asked. Adam looked over and noticed how tightly she was gripping the guide bar. For a moment, he considered swinging his legs wildly, just to see her face fill with fear. But he suppressed the impulse—and hated himself for it.
“Sorry,” he said awkwardly, and stopped. “So, uh, how’s the skiing?” And where’s your boyfriend? he added silently. Nice of Kane to send her off by herself. Typical. But no more than she deserved, he supposed. And she was a big girl. She could handle it.
“It’s fine,” she responded unconvincingly. “It’s great. Kane and I are having a great time.”
“It doesn’t look it,” Adam snapped.
“What?”
“If you two are having such a great time together, where is he?”
She looked away. “That’s really none of your business,” she said bluntly. “Did I ask you where Harper was?”
“She’s—”
“I don’t care,” Beth cut in. “That was my point.”
“Fine. Sorry I said anything at all,” he retorted.
“Me too.”
Beth hopped off the chairlift as soon as her skis could reach the ground. She couldn’t get away from Adam fast enough. She hated what being around him did to her. Half the time she was an emotional wreck, ready to throw herself at his feet and beg him to take her back, the other half she was this cold, sarcastic monster she barely recognized.
He deserved it, of course—what right had he to comment on her relationship, act so wise and superior, as if he were just waiting for her and Kane to fall apart? He didn’t know anything about them—or anything about her, not anymore.
She was so angry that she forgot to be afraid as she launched herself down the trail. So busy fuming about Adam that she failed to notice the icy patch until it was too late—her legs went skidding out from under her—one ski off to the right, the other off to the left, and just when it felt as if she would snap in half, her skis snapped off instead, and she landed, facefirst, in a pile of snow.
Ouch.
It took her a moment to catch her breath and make sure all her limbs were still attached and in working order. Yes on both counts. She sat up and brushed the snow out of her face, taking stock. One ski lay a few feet away, and there were her two ski poles, but the other ski …
Beth’s heart sank. It was nowhere in sight. Had it slid down the mountain without her? She wondered how much it would cost to replace a rental ski—and how in the world she’d make it down without it.
“Lose something?”
Adam skied to a stop just in front of her—and he was holding her missing ski.
“I saw it go flying,” he explained, “and figured … are you okay?”
She nodded and, with some hesitation, took his hand and let him help her up.
“I saw you go flying too,” he told her, “and I thought …”
“It looked pretty bad, I guess?” she asked with a wry smile.
“No, no,” he assured her as she snapped her boots back into the skis. “You were doing great until you fell. You’re a natural.”
He’d been watching her? Beth felt her face warm, and was glad her scarf would hide the blush. The scarf made her think of Kane—and that made her think it was time to go.
“Well, I guess I should get back on the horse,” she said, taking a tentative step forward on the skis, only to topple over once again—and this time, she pulled him down with her.
“I take it back,” Adam said, rolling over and spitting out a mouthful of snow. “You totally suck.”
He burst into laughter and, after a moment, Beth broke out in giggles.
“I’m so sorry,” she gasped, trying to get hold of herself. “Let me help you up.”
“No, don’t touch me,” he warned, but he said it with a warm smile on his face. “I don’t want to risk another human avalanche.”
He picked himself up and then, again, hoisted her to her feet.
“I guess I should have paid more attention in ski school,” Beth admitted ruefully.
Adam flicked a clump of snow off her shoulder, and Beth realized how long it had been since he’d touched her. But just a moment ago he’d grabbed her hand and pulled her upright as if it were nothing.
Which, she supposed, it was.
“I could—I could help you out a little,” he suddenly suggested, looking surprised to hear the words pop out of his mouth. He couldn’t have been as surprised as Beth.
If he’d asked her ten minutes earlier, she would have laughed in his face. Accept help from Adam? As if.
Suddenly, it didn’t seem like such a bad idea. “I guess we could do that,” she accepted shyly. “If you want.”
“Okay, then,” he said, in his can-do voice. She knew it well. But then, she knew everything about him, every inch of him, well. Or, at least, she had. “The first thing we need to do is work on your stopping skills. Did they tell you in your lesson about ‘making a pizza’?”
Beth rolled her eyes. “Not you too! I still don’t understand what skiing has to do with fast food. It’s so ridiculous.”
He gave her a playful shove. “Now I know you’re not mocking the pizza—not the very bedrock of our skiing society!” He looked so stricken that she burst into laughter again.
“I wouldn’t dare,” she promised. “Bring on the pizza.”
He positioned her on the skis, and they practiced stopping and slowing down and, eventually, “French fries,” for when she wanted to speed up, and soon, Beth was no longer terrified by the out-of-control flight down the mountain—she was exhilarated.
Despite all that was unspoken between them, and all the horrible words that had been said and could never be forgotten, things could still be easy between the two of them. She felt she was rediscovering something, or someone, that she hadn’t even realized she’d missed. Not Adam—or not just Adam—but herself. The person she had been—before. She thought she’d lost that person forever. Maybe, just maybe, she’d been wrong.
By the time Adam returned, flushed and sunkissed from his day in the snow, Harper was seriously bored—and seriously cranky.
She’d gossiped with Kaia, made small talk with the steady stream of losers who’d returned to the lodge with bumps and bruises of their own, read through this month’s Vogue, twice—at one point she’d gotten so desperate for something to do that she’d actually called her mother. In short: It had been a painfully long afternoon—made even longer by the fact that Adam showed up twenty-three minutes later than he was supposed to. (And yes, she’d been counting.)
But she played the good girlfriend—she put on a happy face.
“How are you doing?” Adam asked, greeting her with a kiss and laying a gentle hand on her wounded ankle.
“Much better, now that you’re here,” she said truthfully. “So how was your afternoon?”
“Awesome!” he beamed—then looked down at her and quickly corrected himself. “I mean, it was okay. You didn’t miss much.”
He was so adorable when he tried—and failed—to be a smooth operator.
“It’s okay, Ad, I want you to have fun,” she assured him. It sounded like the right thing to say … even if it wasn’t quite true. “So you didn’t get too bored, skiing all by yourself? Or did you hook up with one of the guys?”
“No …” He stepped behind her, beginning to rub her shoulders. “Actually, I spent most of the day …”
His voice trailed off, and Harper tipped her head up to catch a glimpse of his face. What was he thinking?
“Spent most of the day doing what?” she prodded him.
“You know, skiing, just enjoying the outdoors,” he said quickly. Too quickly? “But I missed you—how’s your knee?”
“It’s a little better,” Harper said, easing herself up off the couch and balancing on her good leg. “I think if I ca
n lean on you, I should be able to … make it back to your room.” She hadn’t intended for her voice to rise at the end of the sentence, as if it were a question—but then, she didn’t know what to expect. Not after last night.
“You can always lean on me, Gracie,” he teased, hurrying to her side and slinging an arm around her waist. “Let’s just take this one step at a time.”
They hobbled out of the lounge and back toward the rooms. Harper smiled. It was so nice to be cradled in Adam’s arms, letting him guide her and support her, that the pain in her knee was almost worth it. Almost.
And then Beth crossed their path—and her smile disappeared.
“Hi, Adam,” The Blond One said shyly, ignoring Harper. “You ran off so quickly before … when Kane came over … well, I just wanted to say thank you for helping me today.”
Harper looked sharply over at Adam, whose normally open face was shut up tight. She couldn’t read him at all. And she didn’t like it.
“And what did this wonderful guy do for you today?” Harper asked, in a sugary sweet tone. She leaned her head against Adam’s chest. His heart was pounding.
“He didn’t tell you?” Beth’s oh-so-innocent smile widened. “He spent his whole afternoon teaching me how to ski. I’m sure you would much rather have been off on the black diamonds or something.”
“No, I—” Adam looked down at Harper and cut himself off. He continued in a much more formal, measured tone. “I was happy to help, Beth. Now, we should really get Harper back to the room.”
Beth gave Harper a weak smile. It wasn’t returned.
“Okay, well—thanks again,” she said, offering Adam an awkward little wave. “It was … good to catch up.”
“Yeah.” Adam tugged Harper away, and they began shuffling down the hall as fast as Harper could hobble.
“That was very sweet of you,” Harper said carefully, anger and fear simmering in her chest.
“I didn’t plan it—,” he began.
“Oh, of course not.”
“But you should have seen her out there.” He chuckled at the memory. “She had no idea what she was doing.”
And that was your problem how?
But Harper stopped herself before the words could pop out of her mouth. She had a choice. She could follow her territorial instincts and make sure Adam knew just how wrong he’d been to spend the day with the enemy. And then lie about it. She could pick a fight with him that would probably end up with her limping back to her room, alone. She could leave him secure in the knowledge that she was a jealous, unforgiving harpy—and leave him free to chase after the sweet and innocent princess of his dreams. What would Beth do? she wondered. It was galling to even ask herself the question—but, given the starry look in Adam’s eyes every time that blond hair crossed his field of vision, maybe it was also her smartest move.
Beth, the doormat, the good girl would likely just bite her tongue. Smile. Tell Adam she was happy to see him move on from his anger. Beth wouldn’t care if Adam befriended an old girlfriend—or if she did, she’d know it wasn’t her place to say anything. It was the kind of behavior that made Beth into such a limp dishrag, at least in Harper’s estimation, but it was also the kind of behavior that made Adam love her. And if that’s really what he wanted, maybe it was worth a try.
“Well, she’s lucky she had you around to help her,” Harper said finally, with as much sincerity as she could muster.
“You mean that?” Adam asked, giving her a searching look. “I thought you’d be mad. That’s, uh, why I didn’t say anything before.”
“Of course I’m not mad, Ad—you can hang out with whoever you want. And”—she paused, choking the words out was actually inflicting physical pain—“I’m really glad to see you and Beth getting along better. I’m really happy for you.”
Adam pulled her closer to him and kissed the top of her head. “Do you know how amazing you are?” he asked.
Great. Just one problem, Harper thought sourly, beaming up at him. That wasn’t me.
chapter
6
Kaia pulled her car into the lot of the Lost and Found and switched off the ignition, slamming a fist into the steering wheel. It had been hours since Harper’s phone call, but she was just as angry.
He’d wanted her to pity him, stuck in the mountains with a bunch of high schoolers.
“I’d so much rather be with you,” he’d sworn.
Right. Me—or the first blonde who crosses his path. Same difference.
Kaia didn’t even know why she was so angry. It’s not like she and Jack Powell were “going steady” or something pathetically absurd like that. You couldn’t cheat on someone if you weren’t in a relationship, right? Yes, he’d forbidden her to see other guys, and she’d accepted it, for the sake of keeping their secret. He was right: High school boys did get jealous—and, eventually, curious. But, she now realized, he’d never promised not to see other women. And she had never thought to ask.
And why would she? Wasn’t that their thing? No obligations, no attachments, no messy emotions screwing things up and getting in the way.
So she had no right to be mad, no right to be jealous. And if her ego had taken a hit, realizing that, apparently, she wasn’t enough for him—well, her ego was pretty tough. It would survive.
And meanwhile …
She picked up the flyer she’d tossed on the passenger seat: BLIND MONKEYS! ONE NIGHT ONLY AT THE LOST AND FOUND!
Reed was the lead singer, and had told her about the concert—and though she’d tried her best to forget about it, to forget about him, here she was. Their date—or whatever it had been—made less and less sense, the more she thought about it. And for the past twenty-four hours, she’d thought about little else.
Still, she’d promised herself she wouldn’t pursue anything. For one thing, he was way beneath her. For another, she had Powell—or at least she would, when he finally returned to town. Besides: garage bands, dive bars, and Kaia didn’t mix.
But tonight, after Harper’s call, she’d suddenly changed her tune.
Not that she had a sudden craving for smoky air and off-key covers. And she certainly wasn’t willing to admit that the thought of Powell with another girl—another woman—had driven her so crazy with jealousy that she’d hopped in the car and driven to this dead-end pit of a bar to throw herself at a pizza boy-cum-tow truck driver-cum high school dropout to be.
So what the hell am I doing here? she thought irritably. I should just turn around and go. Now.
But, instead, she opened the door, got out of the BMW, and headed toward the bar.
She didn’t know why she was there, or what she was getting herself into—but there was only one way to find out.
Maybe she was just a glutton for punishment.
After a long, hard, and too often painful day of skiing, Miranda was safely back in her room. She could plop down on the bed, pull out her iPod, let some good music wash her tension away…. But, instead, she pulled out her computer. She no longer had any delusions that anything good could come from matchmadeinhaven.com — and yet she couldn’t squelch that last ounce of hope. She just couldn’t stop herself. So she logged on.
Congratulations, Spitfire, the following 1 user has expressed interest in your profile. Click here to learn more!
She was sure this latest candidate would be just as much of a loser as the rest, but there was no harm in finding out—just for the sake of curiosity, of course.
User Profile: ReadItAndWeep
Sex: male
Age: 17
Height: 5′9″
Favorite color: the desert sky, just after sunrise
Favorite food: chocolate chip cookies
If I were an animal, I’d be: a lab rat—plenty of nervous energy and nowhere to go. Just like your typical Grace teenager.
Celebrity I most look like: Brad Pitt
Best lie I’ve ever told: I look a lot like Brad Pitt.
Three things I can’t live without: 1—Woody Al
ien movies, 2—my copy of The Fountainhead, 3—someone to talk to
I am … counting down the days of high school like a prisoner waiting for parole. Sick of everyone telling me, “You’re such a great guy, why aren’t you dating anyone?” And a little embarrassed to be on this website.
You are … smart, funny, ambitious, and love to laugh. You hate dating for the sake of dating and are looking for something real. Good-hearted, loyal, and not afraid of a challenge.
It seemed too good to be true. A smart, funny, sensitive guy? Looking for love? And drawn to Miranda? She allowed herself a small smile. Maybe there was hope for her yet.
“Oh, that feels so good,” Kane moaned. He leaned his head back against the rim of the hot tub and closed his eyes. “I could stay here forever.”
“Mmm, I know what you mean.” Beth stretched out along her side, reveling in the jets of hot water pummeling her sore muscles. Her face tingled in the cold night air.
It was an almost perfect end to an almost perfect day.
Kane hadn’t asked anything about her afternoon, and she wasn’t about to volunteer the fact that she’d spent the whole time with Adam, skiing and laughing. It had felt almost like old times, the two of them together, anticipating each other’s every move, the easy ebb and flow of conversation. As if he’d let himself forget everything that had happened—at least until the end of the day, when they’d parted. They had stayed on safe topics all afternoon, meaningless chatter about the snow, about college applications—but in the end, it had seemed as if he was finally about to say something that mattered. And then he’d spotted Kane in the distance—and his whole face had frozen. And that was it. He’d waved a brusque good-bye, and skied away. As if the whole day had never happened. They were right back where they’d started.
But it’s a beginning, Beth thought hopefully. And maybe now we can …
She cut herself off. Can what? Get back together? It’s not like she was still in love with him, or even wanted him back. Friendship, she assured herself. That’s all she wanted. To reach a point where they wouldn’t have to ignore each other in the halls. To know something about what was going on in his life. To have him care what was going on in hers.
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