Four days later, we’re on our way.
Seth’s parents went up there yesterday to get tickets, and passes, and whatnot. I’m nervous. Firstly, this is the first time I’m leaving San Diego since COVID hit. I’ve taken baby steps when it comes to being around people and I’m doing okay. The anxiety isn’t choking me anymore. I still wash my hands often, but all in all, it feels okay. And Seth said the staff is taking precautions, and we’ll be outside for most of the time there, so… I think I’ll be okay.
Secondly, I’ve never skied before, and I’m fucking terrified of falling on my head and breaking my neck, or my back. Or falling off the lift, or—
“You know what we should do?” Seth says, turning towards me where he sits in the passenger seat.
“Turn back around?”
“We should get night tickets,” he says, completely ignoring me.
“What? Why?” I can’t think of anything worse than skiing around in complete darkness. What the fuck?
“It’s so cool. You can watch the sunset from the mountain, and sometimes the moon’s so big and bright, it lights up everything.”
The leather on the steering wheel groans under my hands, and I exhale.
“Are you nervous, Kadey-babe?” He places a hand on my thigh, stroking lightly up and down.
“Yeah, I’m fucking nervous. I’ve never skied before, Seth. And I don’t wanna break my neck. I kinda need it, you know?”
“You won’t break your neck. I’m gonna teach you. We can use one of those harnesses, so I can steer you and—”
I smack his arm, and he laughs.
“It’s not that hard, though,” he says then, lacing his fingers with mine. “Promise, you’re gonna love it.”
He squeezes my hand and turns the volume up. Looking out the side window, he bobs his head to “I want you” by The Offspring, mumbling the lyrics.
I exhale, trying to relax. Maybe this week won’t be so bad. Maybe I’ll fall on my ass, and maybe that’s the worse that’ll happen.
And if so, at least Seth’ll be there with me.
There’s snow covering the treetops, and snow on the ground. It’s white and bright everywhere I look. And it’s cold. Sort of looking forward to the fucking mid-calf socks now, to be honest.
There’s a bit of a hassle finding a parking spot and carrying all of our shit to the cabin, but we’re here. And I’m sort of amazed by how big it seems. I mean, itisbig. The mountains around us are huge, but when everything’s covered in snow, it somehow makes everything look even bigger.
We get to the cabin—a small, wooden house, surrounded by pine trees. And snow. Seth drops his bag on the front porch, and lifts an upside-down pot beside the front door, pulling out a key.
“Mom left it,” he says as he unlocks the door and opens it.
A mixed smell of old basement and cleaning products hits my nose. It’s not unpleasant really—it’s more or less what you’d expect a cabin up in the mountains to smell like.
But it’s small as hell. And—
“Wow, this is ugly!” Seth laughs, dragging in our bags and closing the door behind us.
“It’s something, yeah.”
The place is filled with different kinds of wood in every shade, and there seems to be some wild animal theme happening. On the brown couch, there’s a red blanket with brown and green bears all over it. There’re wooden moose on the mantel, and black deer on the dark green curtains. Even the carpet has bears on it.
There’s one bedroom, also animal-themed and wood-inspired, and a medium-sized bathroom, with a huge mirror above the sink. The kitchen’s small—just a stove, a counter and a fridge, with a table and four chairs in the middle of the space.
There’s no way we can all fit in here. I turn to Seth.
“Did we get our own cabin?”
He snorts. “You think I want my parents to hear you rail my ass? Of course, we got our own cabin.”
