And it might have ruined me.
I have never been kissed like that, all needy and hungry and desperate. And the way he grabbed me by the neck and pulled me to him—I was halfway to becoming a puddle on the floor before his lips even met mine—and once he made contact…
He’ll never know the extent of his effect on me since he cut things short—thank God for small favors—but it’s not a stretch to say a spare set of briefs would be required if there was a repeat.
I kick the door again for good measure.
Damn him for being so confusing. For making me second guess myself and break my own rules. I’m smarter than this. I’m more professional than this, or at least I thought I was. Why is the line I shouldn’t cross suddenly so blurry?
My mind is on overdrive, full of restless energy. Desperate for a distraction, I pace around the building, searching for something that needs attention. There’s always marketing, but I’m too riled for paperwork. Cleaning would be best. A good, furious scrubbing is the perfect outlet. There’s always water splatter on the mirrors,and—I don’t want to think about what’s on the toilets—but they’ll be clean when I’m done with them.
Barreling down the hall toward the utility closet, I’m distracted by the door on the opposite side of the hall.
The locker room.
The door creaks a tad when I open it, but the space is otherwise silent since there’s still enough daylight for people to be on the slopes. I spot Ryder’s bag stashed in a locker bay near the corner of the room, the snowboard I rode just the other day propped next to it.Now there’s an idea.
A quick glance at my watch verifies I’ve got just over an hour before the lifts close. Plenty of time to get a run in, and a more enjoyable way to burn off steam than cleaning. I dash back to my office to grab my snow pants and coat and grab a spare pair of boots from the rental desk. Then I’m out the door.
This late in the day there’s barely anyone in line, so I march right to the front, strap on my board, and kick my way to the loading area. So far so good.
I breathe a little easier on the chair, whether because of the fresh air or the view I’m not sure, since both remind me of Ryder.
Was it only yesterday he gave me a lesson? It seems like a lifetime ago. Since then, he’s been angry, protective, briefly happy and maybe even aroused, right before getting angry again. I wish he could just be like he was on the mountain. He may have been annoyed to start, but once we got going, he became lighter. I’d even bet he was having fun. We both were, I think.
Watching him helped me understand the appeal of snowboarding. The casual elegance of sliding over the ground. The floating sensation, almost as if you’re weightless. I experienced that, briefly, as he guidedme down the hill. I want to feel that again, weightless and free, instead of smothered by his many moods.
The lift slows at the top of the slope, and miraculously, I’m able to exit without losing my balance. Kicking over to the start of the run, I strap my back leg in, and inch forward by rocking my hips back and forth just like he taught me. After a moment, gravity takes over and I start to slide.
Straight out of the gate, I start to gain speed—way more than I intended—and I swing my back leg even with the front as I lean onto my heels, attempting to brake. It works, though I end up falling on my ass instead of stopping on my feet like I planned, but at least I didn’t go barreling down the mountain. I call it a win, even if my ass feels that landing more than I’d like to admit.
I give myself a few seconds to shake off the impact, then try to push myself up. It takes a few tries—it’s a lot harder to stand from sitting than it is if you push off your stomach—but I manage to get upright.
Starting again, I put my weight over my front leg just like Ryder coached me, and let gravity pull me forward. Immediately I transition from barely moving to barreling downhill, and I swing my body to my heel side to brake, landing on my backside with another heavy thud.
What is happening?This isn’t how things went yesterday. We had a slow and controlled descent, not a free-for-all. I’m doing all the same things, I think, but the results are wildly different.
Over and over, I push up to standing, gradually start to move, and promptly lose control before landing on my ass again. It gives me something other than Ryder to be pissed about, but doesn’t improve my mood overall.
Maybe I should switch positions so I’m riding more on my toes than myheels.
Rolling to my stomach, which is no easy feat with a five-foot board strapped to my legs, I rest on my hands and knees to catch my breath before trying again. As a precaution, I look uphill to make sure no one’s coming toward me before I go, and realize there isn’t a single person in sight. Not a one.
Peering downhill over my shoulder gives me the same view.
Part of me likes that I’m alone—fewer people to avoid—but this late in the day, when I’m rapidly losing daylight, I’m not sure that’s a good thing.
This run is taking far longer than I expected, and given the total lack of other people, I’m starting to think the lifts have stopped. That I’m one of, if notthelast person on the mountain, and I don’t think they keep track of who goes up but doesn’t come down.
This isn't good… it's not good at all. No one knows I’m up here, or would have reason to come looking for me until I don’t show up at work tomorrow. I want to be pissed at Ryder for that, butI’mthe dumbass who thought blowing off steam on the mountain instead of scrubbing my anger away would be a good idea.
I need to get off this hill. It'll be dark soon and I'd rather not fucking freeze my balls off because my emotions got the best of me. This isn'tme.I don't throw caution to the wind or lose all common sense… What’s happening right now is so out of character for me, I barely recognize myself. I don’t do things on a whim. Nor do I take unnecessary risks. Yes, I have a soft spot for people in need, people who remind me of my cousin in some way, but that’s never hindered my ability to make the right decision.
And here Ryder thought I couldn't be spontaneous. Too bad he might get his 'I told you so' by attending my funeral.
Clearly, Ryder interferes with my brain's functionality in a way that makes me a danger to myself. Whether it’s reacting out of anger orputting my heart at risk, he’s brought me nothing but frustration and pain since we met. For that alone, I should do everything in my power to stay away from him. Yet even as I try to convince myself of that, deep down I know it won’t happen. That kiss makes it impossible. Not because it was the best kiss I’ve ever had, but because it means I’m getting through to him.
He went from hating the sight of me to begrudgingly smirking at me tokissingme, and if that’s not progress, I don’t know what is. Sure, there’s still lots of tension between us—the angry kind, not the sexual kind—but the fact that it's notonlyangry tension between us suggests I’m doing something right. I’m having an impact on his mood and—I think—his outlook. Walking away from that just because he had a moment of panic would be unprofessional. And, selfishly, it’d mean I never find out whatcouldbe.
