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I snort and not in a ladylike fashion. “Fuck.” Wobbling again.
“Easy, just relax,” he says, his jaw twitching.
“Relax, you relax,” I bite out, and he laughs.
I take a deep breath, my cheeks heating like they always do when I’m nervous. “Thank you for helping me, though.”
He grunts. “A compliment without a question tied to it. I’ll take it.”
“Am I doing it right?” I ask skeptically, looking from my board and back to him.
“Yeah, that’s it. Now turn and lean back. I’ll hold you up.”
I take a deep breath while my pulse hammers in my ears. He turns one foot on the board, the other firmly planted in the snow. The adrenaline courses through my veins, making me a little shaky.
“You okay?”
“Yeah.” I turn again, leaning backwards as I almost lose my balance.
“Not too much,” he says as I quickly lean forward.
“That’s it.” He smiles. “You’re getting the hang of it.”
I shake my head. “Yeah, because you’re holding my hand. Can you hold it for the rest of my life as well? I mean, next week,” I ask, and my cheeks glow with embarrassment.
“What’s next week?” he asks as we both ignore the life part. Looking into my eyes as we slide again, we make another wide turn, and I try to stop my anxiety from freezing me up. Shit, why am I telling him this?
Apparently, my mouth has a mind of its own. “I’m here for a birthday party. He’s an old childhood friend.”
“Oh,” he says, sounding disappointed.
“There were cupcake bribes involved to come here. He has a famous pastry shop in L.A.,” I tell him, and the side if his mouth hikes up again, looking down at my board as he guides me. “I wanted to come early.” I’m not going to tell him I’m homeless and dragging my ass around town the last couple of days to get up the courage to go to my parents, or the fact I’m actually here to impress some guy.
“Rad,” he says, still guiding me.
“They want to spend a day in the snow before the games start next week.” I’m officially rambling. Nice.
“You’re going to the X Games?” he asks, still guiding me.
“Is that what it’s called?” That’s probably why the motel prices were going through the roof.
He nods, his expression darkening.
“People are crazy doing those stunts. I do know that much,” I say, locking eyes with him.
“Why?” he sounds offended.
“Just because you can really hurt yourself.”
“I think we have established you can also hurt yourself by sliding down a tiny hill, Ace. Those guys know what they’re doing, they live for it,” he says, getting a faraway look in his eyes.
“Breaking all the bones in my body isn’t high on my to do list,” I tell him, and he grunts. “But yeah, our other friend, Jake, works for Red Bull. They’re one of the sponsors.”
“You got a lot of friends in high places?”
I shrug. “I know them mostly through my brothers. But yeah, they are my friends.”
“How many brothers do you have?” he asks while we slowly slide.
