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“Yeah, after high school, I went to Harvard to study business,” I tell him, letting out a slow breath.
His smile falls. “Harvard?” he asks, his eyes wide.
“You don’t have to look so alarmed. I spent most of my weekends going to thrift stores and flea markets, buying too many clothes, which became a serious hoarder problem.” I laugh. “So now I have an MBA and sell clothes from my laptop for a living.”
“Dude, so you’re like wicked smart?” He sounds impressed.
I shake my head. “No, I just always loved the business side of things. When I discovered secondhand clothes, that was it for me. I got addicted to the chase. Spent more time on the road and in dirty attics than outside.” My voice is small, and I motion to the mountains in the distance. “I forgot how beautiful it is here,” I whisper, the wind cooling my warm cheeks. “Don’t get me wrong, I hate the cold, and me and the snow don’t go well together. And—” I push him with my elbow. “I still can’t snowboard for shit.”
He grins, giving me a questioning look.
“What’s that look?”
“Nothing,” he mumbles, not looking at me. In one swift movement, he stands. “Let’s take the last run down. You want to hold my hand, babe, while we do it?” he drawls, the corner of his mouth twitching like he’s fighting against a full-blown smile. “Then we can get a beer. Never know where we might end up,” he states, waggling his eyebrows.
“I don’t really want to drink again,” I croak, a little dizzy all of a sudden.
“Fine, I’ll get a beer, and you can get hot chocolate for all I care,” he says, laughing.
I give him a look that he returns. He’s waiting for my answer. “Okay, dude, let’s get a drink.” My voice trembles a little. Damn, those gray eyes make me lose my train of thought.
“No sweaty hand holding?” he asks.
I shake my head and clap my hands, balancing on my board. “Let’s shred, snowboard guy.”
“I’ll follow you, babe.”
Slowly, I begin to move. I have to find my center, but after a couple of wide turns, he slides up next to me.
“You’re doing good,” he yells. I smile, holding my hands out to steady myself.
“Don’t say that too loud,” I warn, trying not to lose my flow.
He smiles, gaining speed and going first, and I follow him to the bottom of the slope. I close my eyes and spread out my arms, the cold air whipping over my face, and for the first time, I’m not afraid anymore. It feels like I’m home, and that fucking scares me. He stops, snow flying everywhere.
I slide to a halt, balancing backwards in front of him, and I almost lose my footing. He grabs me by my jacket and pulls me forward, steadying me.
“Hold your horses, babe,” he says, not letting me go.
I grin and grab his arms tighter.
“So what do you think?”
I look up at the mountain. “It was fun,” I confess. I spent years pretending I didn’t want anything to do anymore with the snow, but I love and missed it even more than I want to admit. “I really enjoy riding with you.”
He chuckles. “How much did it cost you to tell me that?”
I slap him in his stomach. “Don’t be mean,” I warn.
He laughs. “Come on, dude, admit it.”
“I had fun,” I answer, my heart skipping a beat when he locks eyes with me.
“That’s what this life is all about, riding with a good group of friends, and having fun. You should be stoked, Ace of Spades,” he says.
“I am,” I begin, and he raises one brow in response. “I am,” I tell him, taking a deep breath. I don’t want to admit it to myself, but I had a great time riding with him.
“And you’re not a shit rider anymore. Before you know it, I’ll be able to take you on a backcountry ride to chase pow,” he says, sounding proud.
