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“Like shit,” he supplies and snorts.
“Did you get into a fight or something?”
He runs a hand over his stubble and locks eyes with me. “Yeah, with some ice in the pipe.”
“I have no idea what that means.” I smile.
“Let’s keep it that way,” he answers, the intense look in his eyes holding me captive. He takes a step and towers over me. “You are a good distraction, babe,” he says, that half grin of his making my stomach swoop.
“This is not a date,” I blurt out.
His eyes widen, and he flashes me a lopsided smirk. “Ace, if this was a date, you’d know.” Winking at me, he continues, “This is just two new friends helping each other out.”
“Okay.” My brows draw together. “Tell me, why am I helping you out again?”
He runs an awkward hand through his hair. “I need a break from the bullshit in my life, and this is just what I need.”
“Watching me fall flat on my face or ass?” I joke.
“Something like that.” He smiles, looking me up and down. “Now that we got that out of the way. Just friends, no funny times.” He snickers, staring at my ass. “Most important question is, are you ready to shred?” he asks, raising his arms in a V.
“I still don’t know what that means, but if you’re implying not breaking every bone in my body, I’m down,” I mumble, glad he asked me to meet him before the midday crowds start rolling in.
“Good.” He grins, slapping me on the back like I’m one of his buddies, which I guess I technically am.
“Follow my lead. Now place your board on the ground.” He motions to the snow, and I drop the board.
“With a little TLC next time,” he grunts.
I look to the sky, pulling on my gloves, not bothering to respond.
“No, the gloves stay off.”
“All righty, then.” Sarcasm rings through my voice. Even my grumpy ass has to admit his easy demeanor is a really nice break from my constant worrying and questioning of every single decision I have to make.
“Now, place your right foot in the bindings and make sure you’re strapped in tight,” he says, locking his dark stare on mine.
“Okay, bet that’s what they all say,” I mutter, and he snorts, taking my arm to hold me steady.
“First, we’ll go over the basics before you’re going to surf.”
“Surf?” I ask, brushing my hair back.
“Yeah, ride, surf, shred, they’re all the same,” he says, like I should know what he means.
“There you go, smiling again.” He chuckles.
I rest my hands on my waist. “It’s the way you talk.”
He raises one brow, his lips curling into a full-blown smile. “The way I talk?”
Nodding, I drawl, “I call it snowboard lingo.” I make quotation marks in the air.
Shaking his head, he says, “Come on.” He motions to the lift and scratches the back of his neck. “Snowboard lingo,” he repeats, shaking his head again.
We spend the rest of the day riding around. Jesse wasn’t kidding; he’s a great teacher, and within a couple of hours, I get the hang of snowboarding again. We agree to meet the following day around noon. He’s easy to be around, and for the first time in months, I’m laughing and smiling again.
“I didn’t know girls were into eighties rock. I’ve never heard someone sing along like that to a Bon Jovi ringtone,” he says while we ride the T bar lift side by side the next day.
