“Nope. I’ve skateboarded before. I used to do it all the time.”
“Right. But you said you haven’t since you got hurt,” Christopher pointed out. “So maybe trying it again could count as a new thing.”
I was touched he remembered, but I couldn’t imagine trying to skateboard on the always-wet-and-icy pavement outside the resort. Besides, I had promised myself never again after enduring that horrible pain and spending all those weeks in a cast. Thinking about it now, though, I did wonder what life would be like if I’d never given it up. Would I still be entering competitions? Would I have, I don’t know…gotten somewhere with it? Won trophies? Competed at Nationals? I had been pretty good at stunting. For a ten-year-old.
The sliding doors to the lobby opened, letting in a whoosh of cold air, as well as a large group of loud, healthy-looking twenty-somethings toting their skis and boots. I watched them until they rounded the corner toward the Alpine Bar & Grill at the far end of the airy lobby, an odd pang in my chest. Would I ever be that confident—that comfortable in my own skin? When I returned my attention to Christopher, he was watching them too—wistfully.
“It must really suck, being stuck here all day watching everyone go in and out to their activities,” I said.
“It’s not the most fun I’ve ever had,” he said. “But I gotta say, this last hour or so has gone by pretty quickly.”
“Yeah?” I said, feeling warm.
“Yeah.” He lifted one shoulder. “Thanks for including me in this. It’s fun.”
Someone dropped their skis with a clatter, and a few people laughed and cheered. “Okay, there is one daredevil-ish thing I’ve never gotten up the guts to do around here,” I told him.
“What?” Christopher looked intrigued.
“I’ve never skied one of the black diamond slopes.” I bit my bottom lip, already regretting having said it out loud. Because now he was typing it into his computer. And I was terrified of the black diamond slopes. The one time I had skied over to the top of one of those trails, the wind had whipped up and pelted my face with a spray of ice pellets, as if the gods themselves were trying to warn me away. I had retreated to the Little Green Lodge for some soup and then taken one of the yellow trails down.
But every year since then I’d promised myself and my dad and Lauren that I was going to try, and every year I’d backed out. It was starting to get old.
“That is the perfect number nine,” Christopher said.
“That’s not how you broke your leg, is it? Was it on a black diamond?”
Christopher kept typing rapidly, as if he were writing the great American novel, rather than adding one item to a short list. His eyes were focused on the screen, his brow creased adorably in concentration.
“Christopher?”
“I’m trying to pretend I didn’t hear you,” he replied.
“Ugh! I knew it! Take it off. Forget I said anything.”
I got up and made a grab for his computer, but he pulled it away, holding it up and out of my reach with his broken leg propped up between us.
“Nope! Nuh-uh! No take-backs!”
“We never said no take-backs! What is this, second grade?” I reached across his body, trying to avoid knocking into his cast, but that tipped me off-balance and I tripped. My stomach swooped and I tried to stop myself, but there was no good spot to brace my hands, and just like that, I sprawled across Christopher’s lap.
Oh, God. Oh, GOD!
“Too bad you didn’t put this on your list,” he joked. “Because I bet you’ve never face-planted on a dude with a broken leg before.”
Heart pounding, I carefully pushed myself away and sat down next to him on the couch. Our shoulders were touching, and my skin felt like it was on fire underneath my sweater. “Nope. Definitely never done that before. Sorry.”
“It’s really okay.”
He put the laptop down on his other side and looked over at me, and I realized our faces were only inches apart. I could see every little line on his lips and smell the berry-licious scent of his shampoo. My pulse ticked up and then, out of nowhere, someone started singing directly into my ear.
“On the first day of Christmas, my true love gave to me a partridge in a pear tree.”
Startled, I turned around and grabbed the back of the couch with both hands. There was a group of eight carolers, all decked out in ugly Christmas sweaters, busting into song in the middle of the lobby.
I locked eyes with Christopher, and we burst out laughing.
“Christmas is over!” he shouted.
“SO over!” I added.
But the carolers just kept singing jauntily, huge grins plastered on their faces.
“Ugh, how can anyone be that happy?” I grumbled, sinking down on the couch until my butt was practically dangling off the edge.
“It should be outlawed,” Christopher agreed jovially, scooching down next to me.
Our shoulders pressed together again, and just like that, I couldn’t stop myself from smiling.
“Look, if you must know, I didn’t break my leg because of the black diamond slope,” he said. “I broke my leg because I went skiing with a couple of idiot kids I barely knew, and one of them decided it would be funny to play bumper boards.”
“What? Someone pushed you off the trail?” I demanded. “Who? Did you murder him?”
“Ummm…no. I wasn’t really in the condition to take someone out right then.” He chuckled. “But my parents are trying to get him fired.”
“Wait a minute. He works here?” I sat up straighter, indignant. “Where does he work? Is he our age? Do you want me to talk to Loretta?”
“No! No, no, no. Honestly. My parents are all over it,” he said. “And besides…I kind of think the whole thing is stupid. My parents are being super dramatic about it, and I wish they’d just let it go.”
I blinked. “So, you don’t want him fired.”
“No. I mean, yeah, I guess. The guy’s an asshole, seriously,” he said. “And I hope I never lay eyes on the jerk again. But…I just don’t feel the need to make a big thing out of it, you know?”
“But he broke your leg.”
“Yeah, and it sucks. But it’s not like I’m looking for revenge or something. I don’t know. It’s just not me.”
“Wow,” I said. “You are very evolved.”
“Not really. I still like a good fart joke now and then.”