“Really?” I asked with a mouthful of sugary pancakes.
“Mmm-hmm,” she said with a playful grin. A dimple formed on her right cheek. I’d never noticed that.
“Does that mean Pete and Maren can actually get here?”
A crease formed between her eyes. “Well, no.”
“Oh.” I took another bite in defeat.
“But it does mean they’re opening a couple of the runs. Wanna show me your skills?”
In a split second the pancakes in my gut felt like a thousand-pound weight.
That’s right, you told her you were an awesome skier. Dumbass.
“I don’t know,” I said, trying to sound casual, impassive. “I mean, you’ve never skied before, right? Not sure this is the best time to learn.”
“I do have an awesome teacher at my disposal, right? You can show me the ropes.”
Fuck.
There was no way in hell I was going to lose the upper hand that I currently held with Lyra. And if I admitted to lying about my skiing ability, I knew that was exactly what would happen. So I went with it. Like an idiot.
“Sure, yeah, but, uh…” I said, my pulse picking up speed. I cleared my throat and stood tall, not wanting to show concern or weakness or any of that shit. “We should definitely start on the bunny hill. With the storm and everything, I don’t want you to get hurt.”
“Sounds reasonable to me,” Lyra said, her smile bright. But somehow I knew that smile would run the hell away from her face once she knew I was a phony. I could only hope she’d hate skiing, and I’d be off the hook. Either that or I could pray for more snow. A lot of it.
“I’ll get changed,” she said, walking to her bedroom with an excited spring in her step.
“Fuck me,” I muttered, taking one last bite of pancakes before dropping my fork to the plate and forcing myself to change my clothes and brave the slopes.
It was surprisingly beautiful outside when we emerged from the lodge. The sky was surprisingly beautiful and the sun shined so bright that the untouched snow shimmered and sparkled.
“Are we the only ones out here?” Lyra asked, looking around our immediate area.
“Uh, maybe we should take that as a sign.”
Lyra shook her head. “Nah, we’re just doing the bunny hill, right? Until I get comfortable.”
Right.
“It should be right over…” Lyra put on her sunglasses and turned to survey the area. “There!”
For someone who made a habit of skiing, I was sure this hill would be a joke. The slope itself was remarkably gradual, and there was a rope to help you pull yourself back up to the top without falling. Slowly, Lyra and I made our way over to the hill—our feet thumping in the thick snow as we adjusted to walking in the giant metal appendages on our feet.
Why the hell do people do this? Never in my life have I felt this physically awkward.
“And look, we’re not the only ones. There’s a family already on the bunny hill.”
“Lovely,” I muttered under my breath as I watched a five-year-old glide down the hill like it was nothing. If I was more of a positive person, watching that little ankle-biter master such a feat would make me feel better, more confident. But it didn’t, because I knew if I couldn’t do this, I’d be shown up by a kindergartener.
“Did you say something?” Lyra asked, tilting her head to the side.
“After you,” I said with a fake smile.
We walked stiffly to the bottom of the bunny hill just as the little boy and his mom came flying down the hill, making it look easy.
You just made my shit list, kid.
“Go ahead,” I said, gesturing to the rope when we finally reached the bottom of the hill.
“Any tips?”
“Grab the rope and hold on as you walk up the hill.” I did my best to sound as sarcastic and belittling as possible so she wouldn’t doubt my skiing ability.
“Okay, smart-ass. I was just asking.” Lyra moved her sunglasses down to the bridge of her nose. “And what the hell? We have a truce, remember?”
I shook my head and wrinkled my nose in contrition. “Yeah, yeah. Sorry.”
Just then, my cell rang from the pocket of my parka.
“You brought your phone?” Lyra tilted her brow, looking at me in disbelief.
“Yeah. I feel naked without it.”
“Good lord.”
I ripped my glove off and unzipped my pocket to grab my phone.
“It’s Pete. I gotta take this,” I said as I maneuvered myself to turn around and walk a few steps away from Lyra.
“Dev, c’mon.”
“Two minutes!” I said, still thumping away in my skis. I needed a little bit of privacy.
“Fine,” Lyra huffed.
I answered Peter’s FaceTime call. “Pete!”
“Wait, are you outside? Dev, where are you?”
“Uh…” I turned the phone so he could see the slopes. “Just checking out the powder.”
“Dude, you’re gonna break your neck!”
“Keep your voice down. Lyra doesn’t know I’ve never skied.”
My friend’s eyes widened, and he laughed behind his hand. “Well, it won’t take long for her to catch on.”
“Shut it. Tell me what to do.”
“Go back inside.”
“I can’t! I promised her we’d do the bunny hill or some shit. We got in an argument, and we’re both trying to make nice, you know, since we’re stuck here.”
“I see.”
“So, what’s the prognosis, man? Are you coming or not?”
“Not likely. The road up there is a disaster. And another storm is coming through in a few hours.”
“So, what, you’re just gonna give up?”
“No, but it’s time for you to accept that you have a couple more days with Lyra. And we’ll all hang out when you get back. And look, you’re skiing together, so you obviously haven’t killed each other yet.”
“Yet being the operative word.” I turned back to look at Lyra, who now stood with her hands on her hips. I thought I saw her left ski make tiny thumping movements as she watched me in irritation. I chuckled under my breath. “Look, man, I gotta go. She’s giving me a death stare.”
“Okay, text me once you’re back in your room…with all your limbs intact.”
“Screw you, dude.”
Pete laughed before ending the call.
Dick.
“Are you done, Lady Chatterly?” Lyra called over, her tone coolly disapproving. In spite of myself, I chuckled at her smart-ass comment.
“I’m not going to dignify that with a response. Besides, you didn’t have to wait for me. You coulda been up and down the hill twice already.”
“Ugh, you’re infuriating. So let me guess, they’re not coming.”
“Doesn’t look good.”
“Two more days…” Her voice drifted.
“Don’t remind me,” I muttered.
“Hey, truce.”
I put my hands up in surrender. “Right, sorry.”
“Okay, let’s do this.
At my repeated insistence, Lyra was the first to grab the rope, and I followed close behind. Slowly we made our way up the gentle hill, reaching the top much more quickly than I would have liked. My nerves were on fire as I stood at the top of the slight slope. The five-year-old climbed up right behind me and went whooshing past us, flying down the hill. His mother reached the top and laughed in adoration. It took everything in me not to tell her and her kid to go to hell.