Page 4 of Head Over Skis

‘Are any of your housemates in?’ I ask, peering into the rooms that border the hallway as I take off my jacket.

‘No housemates. It’s just me and Daisy,’ he calls over his shoulder, walking ahead and throwing his keys into a ceramic dish on one of the hall tables.

Ah, I sigh at the mention of a woman’s name, my stomach sinking. So, he’s just being a decent guy and offering to help clean me up, that’s all, given his girlfriend Daisy is prowling around somewhere. Well, that sucks.

I’m thinking about the fastest route back to the club when I feel something warm and wet brush up against my leg and I yelp as a black labrador licks my calf.

‘Daisy! Daisy, come here! No, she doesn’t want any kisses.’

He crouches down, whistling to try and drag the dog’s attention away, but has no luck.

‘Oooh, so you’re Daisy,’ I say, reaching down to stroke the top of her head. The guy moves closer as if to pull her away, but I bat my hand through the air.

‘It’s cool, I’m a dog person and she can probably smell the Coke on me. Isn’t that right, cutie?’

I crouch down and scratch her under the chin, only for her to stalk forwards and start licking the stain on my top. Right in the crack between my boobs.

‘Daisy, no, Daisy!’

This time he does take hold of her collar and slowly drags her backwards, only she springs free and this time gives my face a good clean.

‘Daisy! I’m so sorry. Again. But on the plus side, I think she likes you.’

I smile but keep my mouth closed so I don’t give Daisy the opportunity to make these kisses any less PG. When she’s finally deemed me clean enough, she trots back over to his feet of her own accord. His stern-parent face fades and he gives in and pats her head when she wags her tail at him, practically dusting the floor.

‘Come on, you little rascal, let’s get you a toy to play with instead. And you,’ he says, pausing, his eyes briefly flicking down to where my top is now wet with both Coke and dog slobber, ‘let’s get you changed and away from my furry menace.’

I wait while he pulls Daisy into one of several living rooms before gesturing up the stairs. I hang my jacket on a coat rack and follow him up two flights.

As I take in the marble staircase and the sporadically placed pieces of art that wind up the wall, I can’t help wondering what this guy does for a living. I figure he’s barely older than I am, so the more likely question is, what do his parents do? I hope it’s their money at least – it’s too depressing to think someone my age could afford this on their own.

We reach his bedroom and while he rummages through his wardrobe I try to look for clues about the kind of guy he is through his decorations, but there’s barely anything hanging on the cream walls in here. Only a few dramatic landscapes of lakes, and forests, and – shit. Hanging behind the bed is a massive canvas with a snowy mountain range.

So much for being distracted from where I’m going tomorrow.

I turn away from it and lean against a big wooden chest of drawers as I wait for him to finish searching. He selects a couple of T-shirts and lays each one out on the bed behind him.

‘Feel free to try on some of these and take the one you want. I’ll head downstairs so you can change. I’ll be back up in a minute with some stain remover.’

As he leaves, he pauses in the doorway, his eyes darting down once again to my chest. Something in his jaw tics, before he heads out of the room.

I pick a T-shirt and don’t think any more on it until I head into his en-suite, catching a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror and witnessing the full extent of the damage to my top. And my nipples, which it turns out are now completely visible through the drenched fabric. I’d forgotten that in my haste to leave Tim’s I’d opted not to put my bra back on, and now that I’ve gone jacketless, the wet white fabric is doing nothing to hide them.

I giggle as I realise exactly what he was trying not to stare at. I pull the useless top off and throw on the plain black T-shirt. It’s huge on me but I bunch it up and loop a hairband around the excess fabric to keep it in place. I fill up the sink and leave my top to soak in some soapy water until he comes back up with something a little stronger.

I take the opportunity to assess my hair, which has lost all the curls I spent an hour doing this afternoon and now falls in lacklustre straight lines down past my shoulders. I bunch my balayage-blonde mane into a bun, trying to decide whether that’s any better, before sighing and letting it go again. Natural it is. I turn back towards the bedroom, and when I do, I realise that mountain painting sits directly in my line of sight.

I glare at it, a proper death stare as if that might make it disappear. When it doesn’t, I turn around and perch on the edge of the bed. If I can’t make it disappear, I can at least face the other way. What makes it worse is that it isn’t even a good painting. From the small glances I’ve taken at it, I can tell the proportions are all wrong. There’s no depth, and I bet those mountains aren’t all arranged in a line side-by-side in real life like the painting is making them appear.

I hear him coming up the stairs before I see him, but I happily let him pull my attention away from further dwelling on the painting. He settles in the doorway, one hip leaning against the frame with a bottle of stain remover under his arm and a small bowl cradled in his hands.

‘I believe I promised you these as an extension of my apology,’ he says, holding the bowl of fries out towards me. I take it as he heads into the bathroom, taking the bottle in with him.

‘You know, if I’d known you were this rich, I might’ve tried to get something a little better than soggy fries. Maybe a bottle of champagne? Or some priceless antique vase you’ve got lying around?’

‘No antique vases lying around,’ he says from the other room, before his head appears poking around the doorframe. ‘Although I do have one displayed on a marble podium in the hallway.’

His lips curve up into a smirk and I can’t tell if he’s being sarcastic or not. I keep munching in comfortable silence until he comes back and looks out of the window towards the street outside.