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“No doubt.”
“Hey.” She punches my shoulder. “Don’t patronize me.”
“Do I look like I’m in the mood to patronize anyone?” Right now, the pressure’s so bad I can barely talk, barely breathe.
“So are you doing okay?” she asks, laying a hand on my arm.
“Yeah. ’Course I am. Totally solid.” I shrug her hand away, and now I do stand up. Pretend I’m fascinated by watching the resort workers do all the routine tasks that come with closing up one of the black diamond runs.
But Cam’s not buying it. She’s right beside me again, her face tilted up to mine, her big brown eyes filled with a worry I just don’t want. Or need. And something else. Something I’m seeing from her more and more often lately. I usually avoid it—she’s one of my best friends, after all, not to mention the girl Luc’s been in love with practically forever—but for a second, just a second, I think about taking her up on the invitation.
Before I know what I’m doing, I bend my head. Lean in. Our lips are only a few inches apart now and her eyes go wide, her breath catching in her throat. I can all but feel her tense, all but hear her heart pick up a beat.
It would be so easy to kiss her.
So easy to take her back to her place and fuck her like I have hundreds of other girls.
So easy to pretend it isn’t her and just lose myself in another body.
But then what? I have a hard enough time looking at myself in the mirror as it is. If I screw with her like that—screw with Luc—for an hour of sex that won’t mean anything when it’s over, then I’m an even bigger dick than I thought.
I can’t do it. Not to her. And not to Luc.
There are plenty of girls out there who don’t want anything more than I do. And who I won’t have to face in the morning.
I back away at the last second, nod toward the lodge. “Come on. Let’s go inside.”
She stares at me for long moments, but this time all I see in her eyes is pure pissed-off female. It’s a look I’m well acquainted with, and relief sweeps through me as I register it. After all, having Cam mad at me is a million times better than having her looking at me with all that worry and other crap.
She doesn’t call me on my shit, though, and since the wind’s really kicking up—making the whole mountaintop look like a snow globe in the hands of a hyped-up toddler—she doesn’t argue, either. At least not until we make it through the wide glass doors of the Lost Canyon ski lodge. We’re only there a few seconds before a group of rowdy grommets plows straight into us, sending Cam sprawling on her ass. The kids take off running before either of us can do more than stare at the little monsters.
I hold out a hand to help her up and she takes it, but her brown eyes spark with annoyance. “What exactly are we doing, Z?” she demands as she climbs back to her feet. “You know I hate coming in here.”
“Don’t sweat it. Mike’s not out here tonight. And even if he was, I wouldn’t let him near you.”
She stiffens at the mention of her douche-bag ex. “He’s not the one I’m worried about.”
“Oh, yeah? Who are you worried about, then?” I glance around. I wouldn’t mind getting rid of some of this tension by beating the shit out of some guy who’s hassling her.
“You, Z. I’m concerned about you.”
Fuck. I walked right into that one. Cam, Luc, Ash and I have been friends since we were like five. Which is great when you understand that we’d pretty much lie down in traffic for each other, but not so great when it comes to the fact that we know everything there is to know about one another—including the fucked-up stuff.
“Don’t be,” I tell her, determined to get my head in the game. “I already told you, I’m solid.”
“Yeah, right.” She pulls off her ski hat and her crazy red curls poof in all directions. With all that hair and her turquoise snowboarding suit she looks a little like a Muppet. A cute Muppet, but a Muppet nonetheless. To annoy her—and maybe to distract her, too—I reach out a hand, ruffle her curls.
She slaps at me, but she’s laughing, so I do it some more. The tension from that disaster of an almost-kiss fades away and relief whips through me. I’ve fucked up enough in my life. Messing up my friendship with her and Luc, too, isn’t an option.
She ducks down, escapes my hand before landing a bony elbow squarely in my stomach. I don’t flinch, but only because not showing weakness is something of a religion with me—even to one of my closest friends. I give her curls an extra tug before dodging out of range, just to show her the elbow didn’t hurt.
“Come on, let’s go get a table.”
“Why can’t we wait outside like we usually do?” She’s almost whining now, and any other time I’d give in to her. But not now. Not tonight.
Because if I can’t board, can’t smoke and can’t fight, there’s only one option left. And we’ve already had one too-close-for-comfort call. “It’s cold out there, in case you haven’t noticed.”
She looks me up and down. “You’re wearing three thousand dollars in top-of-the-line snowboarding gear and you’re worried about a little cold?”
