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Shaking hands, the board almost bumps into my head.
“No worries,” he replies, still holding my hand. “So what’s the plan?”
“What’s what plan?” I frown, ignoring the beating of my heart.
“Your plan for the coming week, the party?”
“Oh,” I start, looking down to the ground. “I think I’m gonna be the designated drink and beverage holder.” I shrug, trying to temper my nerves. “Better than making a complete fool of myself. Today was more than enough.”
“No,” he says, his voice hard.
“What do you mean, no?” I let go of his hand.
“You wanted to impress what’s-his-face,” he says through clenched teeth.
“Shane,” I mutter.
“Yeah, so let’s impress the guy. When are you meeting him?”
“What? I just got a text, so probably the day after tomorrow. He’s got some business in town,” I say, rambling again. “Why am I even telling you this? You don’t have time to teach me.”
“Yeah, I’ll teach you,” he states, not a doubt in his voice, those gray eyes boring through me.
“You’ll teach me?” I ask incredulously. “I can’t learn how to snowboard again in a week.”
“Technically, it’s two days, and not with your attitude you won’t,” he counters, without breaking eye contact. “What do you say? I’ve got some time in the afternoon. Say, around twelve.”
“Why do you wanna help me?” This is going from weird to weirder. He does have a great laugh, and ass, I think, hiding under his baggy pants.
He crosses his arms, tipping his chin toward me. “I like a challenge, and I need a distraction.”
I bite down on my lip, twisting my hands together. “You sure?” A distraction from what? But I’m afraid to ask.
He raises his eyes to the sky, exhaling hard through his nose. “Fuck, let’s make a deal.”
“A deal?”
“Yeah, you get my mind off shit, and I help you get the hang of boarding again.” He grins and winks at the same time. “If you’re still alive, I’ll take you to the top of the slope.”
“To do what?”
“You’ll find out once we get there.”
“Sounds ominous,” I say as my brows draw together.
“Give me your phone,” he orders.
“Why?”
“Give me your fucking phone,” he demands, holding out his hand.
“Man, you’re even bossier than I am,” I mutter, digging in the pocket of my jacket.
“You bet your ass I am.” And I’m actually handing him my phone. I’ve officially lost my mind. I blame those eyes. His eyes, they get to you, draw you in like a gray vortex. I sigh loudly. My head’s a mess.
He takes my phone, puts in his number, and calls himself before hanging up.
“That’s charming.”
