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I don’t bother to tell her I already took him out. It was a nice gesture on her part, and I’m certain he loved it. This dog loves the snow.
“Thank you,” I mumble as I remove the harness. He scootches between my legs, and I bend over to hug him. He may be a big rascal, but he really is a good dog.
Standing, Emma brushes her hands over her leggings, leggings that mold to her perfectly.
“Would you like some more coffee?” she asks as she pours some into the cup I left out for her.
“No, thanks.” I watch her move around my kitchen. My kitchen. Again, Emma is in my house. “How do you feel about skiing? I was p-planning on spending a lot of time on the slopes this winter, and after the storm, there must be good powder. Obviously, you can stay here or you can come, but I think it’ll be good to get out of the house today.”
“I love skiing.” Her face lights up. “Actually, I really love snowboarding, and I haven’t been in a while.”
Snowboarding. Right.
“Juliet keeps her clothes and stuff in her room across the hall from yours, and she has gear here in the garage. If it fits, you’re more than welcome to borrow it.”
She looks down at her body, and I do the same. So tiny. So perfect.
“I can wear what I wore yesterday or buy clothes at the shop. She’s taller than me and I’m certain her feet are bigger too, but thanks.”
I nod my head. “Meet you by the door in fifteen?”
“Okay.” Her face splits into a smile, and my stomach instantly starts to ache.
What did I do to ever deserve this torture?
By the time we get to the ski lodge, it’s already buzzing with people. It seems we aren’t the only ones who thought getting out of the house would be a great idea. They’ve plowed the entrance, the road leading to the lodge, and all the parking lots to capitalize on the business that comes with fresh snow.
“I’m so excited,” she tells me as we walk up to the lodge.
After being recognized more than normal lately, I pull my cap down farther over my head. I don’t tell her I’m excited too, even though I am. Instead I say, “I’ll get your lift ticket while you get your gear, and I’ll meet you out back.” While I want to leave her here and make my way to the top of the slope, there’s only a certain level of being an ass I’ll stoop to.
“Sounds good. Thanks, Clay.” She smiles at me, and as much as my automatic reaction is to want to smile back, I can’t, so I just nod.
Everyone is happy, all around me. I’m surrounded by people laughing and spending time outside with their friends, and there’s a certain buzz that lingers in the air at the bottom of the mountain. People are either riding the rush they’ve just experienced from coming down or they are filled with excitement as they are about to head up. It’s like when you’re at an amusement park and the closer you get to your turn on the rollercoaster, the more excited you get. It’s all a little bit infectious, and by the time Emma navigates over to me, I am ready to go.
“All set?” I ask as she comes to stand next to me. Her holding a snowboard does strange things inside my chest.
“Yes. Honestly, this is just what I need.” She smiles at me again; meanwhile flutters bounce around my insides, and I hate it.
I hate that I’m always having such a strong reaction to this girl, and instead of responding to her, I just start walking toward the lift line. She follows.
There’s the usual chatter in the line: which slope people are taking, what they like and don’t like, and discussions about friends who are on the mountain and not in the line. Most people are too excited to pay attention to who is around them, and no one notices Emma or myself as we shuffle through.
“When was the last time you were here?” she asks once we’re on the lift.
“Just before Christmas.”
The sky is blue today, really blue. The snow is sparkling under the sunlight, and it’s one of those winter days we dream about. Just feeling the cold air pass by on my face makes me feel lighter, and I know without a doubt that us getting out of the house was the right idea.
“So I take it you come here a lot?” She’s angled toward me a little. It’s hard with the snowboard dangling from one foot.
“Yes. Snowboarding is my thing. Ash likes to kayak, Avery bakes, and well, this is my thing. I look forward to the season all year.”
“Your thing,” she says as she thinks about what I’ve said. It occurs to me that I don’t know her thing. She also chooses not to tell me, even though the opening was there.
Whatever. I don’t need to know it anyway.
“I didn’t make it here last year, so it’s been two years for me.”
