Maybe a little of both?
We’ve done a decent job of avoiding each other. I can’t complain. He’s made the rest of my week dull in comparison, but that’s all right with me.
Jules hurries behind the counter. “What size do you wear?”
“Eight.”
She grabs two pairs of boots and hands me the size eights. “Strap those on, and we’ll grab skis next. Also, helmets.” She grabs two helmets from the rack and hands me one.
It’s not pretty, but it’s functional, which is all that matters. I make sure the helmet is secure and tight, following her outside. We grab a set of skis and poles. Jules shows me how to secure my boot to the ski and gives me a quick mini-lesson out front on the snow.
To say that I don’t grasp it quickly is an understatement.
“You’ll get the hang of it,” Jules insists.
“Maybe I should try a class first.”
“It’s fine. We’ll go on the bunny hills.” She helps me toward the ski lift, and I can’t help but have a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach.
Is it nervousness?
Or maybe I know I’m not cut out to be on skis, and this is the worst idea imaginable. It wasn’t like Jules had to do much to talk me into trying it.
I forge onward because, let’s face it, this kid is fifteen and has no fear. Do I want her to think I’m a coward? Hell, no.
And I like her dad, even if he’s a grumpy mountain man who owns a ski lodge. I want to see what all the fuss is about, why people come here from all over the world.
Did I mention I’m not much of a winter girl?
My fingers are chilly, but the ski boots are warmer than the cozy ones I left inside the lodge.
The bench sways, rocking back and forth as we sit back on the chair lift. The bar loosely keeps us in place from falling. I remove my gloves, wanting to get a better handle on the ski pole, when my glove flies over the edge with my pole and phone.
Shit.
Without thinking, I lunge for it, knocking the bar loose, and in a flash, I’m falling from the lift into the thicket of snow below.
I hit the ground with a thud, but it’s not flat. There’s an incline, and I tumble down, skis on and all.
I should have tried snowboarding instead.
My hand is frozen from the ice. Numb.
One pole is way above where I fell.
The other is halfway down the hillside, where I crashed ungracefully. And my phone, I don’t have a clue where that or my glove landed.
When I finally hit the bottom, I realize I’m between mountains and trees. My ankle is no longer the problem. Everything hurts, like my body is on fire.
Groaning, it takes a minute for me to regroup after having the wind knocked out of me.
I glance up, and Jules stares at me as the ride continues, and she’s too far away to do anything.
“I’ll get help!” she shouts. “Stay there!”
Yeah, where else am I going to go?
SEVEN