“Interesting…” He trailed off. If he was expecting me to say more, he wasn’t going to get it. “So what does she want you to teach her?”
We pulled up to the top of Snowmass park. There were a good number of riders on the park already. Today would probably be the last day I could sneak Zack onto the trail with me; not a big deal, he had friends—and now, apparently Ally—to keep him entertained.
“Triple Cork,” I replied as I bent down to strap in. Even though he skied, Zack knew exactly what I was talking about—some trick names were universally known throughout both sports.
Zack laughed and I should have known where this was going. “Yeah, I bet you want to triple cork her.” I shot up and whipped a snowball at him, which he easily dodged, beginning to head down the slope as he yelled behind him, “That’s the one where you flip her over…” Dick. I tried to stop the laugh that was coming at his ridiculous insinuations. “And then spin her…” His voice echoed up the slope.
“Fuck you, Zack!” I yelled down after him. I slowed my board knowing that if I tried to catch him I was going to miss the entire run. I chuckled again. That was my brother, fucking dick.
I couldn’t say that he was completely wrong though. I’d basically been in a perpetual state of arousal since last night. No, since the moment I’d met her.
Angling my board towards the next kicker, I aimed for the take-off, flying off the edge into the trick Zack had just mocked.
Weightless. Carefree. Alive. Up in the air. Just like everything was between Channing and me.
Now, all I needed to do was convince her to want to fly, rather than to be afraid of the fall.
Tomorrow.
My stomach was even tighter about the prospect that it had been the night before the Open.
I tossed and turned onto my back for about the fifth time, my body trying to get comfortable in my own bed; it wasn’t the bed that was the problem. I pulled the note he’d left me off my nightstand, reading over it again. I’d replayed what had happened between us over in my mind probably a thousand times already today—from the conversation, to the point where I almost gave into wanting him. The torture of having him standing in front of me, feeling that we both wanted the same thing, and knowing that he was waiting for me to make it ok… it was like I’d been trapped on the lift, above the slope I so desperately wanted to be on, but couldn’t get there.
I groaned, thinking about how foolish I’d been to think that trying to take gold in the Men’s Slopestyle competition was going to be the hardest thing about the X Games. No, the hardest thing wasn’t going to be winning when I currently couldn’t; the hardest thing was wanting Wyatt when I shouldn’t.
Maybe it was his attraction to me that kept drawing me in—the unfathomableness of it all; that I could meet him with my damp hair in disarray, wearing a t-shirt and yoga pants, and the man looked at me like he wanted to rip everything from my body, strap me to my board, and have his way with me.
Clearly, my mind had also replayed what hadn’t happened between us—but what could have.
After trying to keep the conversation on Ally’s date with Zack last night, I still couldn’t escape her interrogating questions about what happened with Wyatt. Especially since they’d come home to me passed out on the couch, Wyatt—who’d covered me with a blanket by that point—still gently rubbing my feet as movie credits were just finishing. She’d said that Zack had started to have a good laugh until she threatened to make him do the same thing.
“Did he complain when you put that on?” Before I even got out an answer she continued, “I can’t believe you picked The Notebook! I knew I should have warned you about him coming. You could have totally scared him away, Chan.”
If only it could have been that easy… Except this was Wyatt ‘Always Wins’ Olsen and right now, he wanted to win me.
Then, I had to hear her drone on about how incredible and sweet Wyatt was. She swore to me that Wyatt had no idea that I had had no idea that he was coming; it had been completely her and Zack’s plot. I still couldn’t even get in a word to scold her about that before she was on to how happy she was for me. Her final thought on the subject was to insist that I not do something stupid, like try to break it off with him for my “own dumb reasons”.
Apparently, I was only allowed one stupid idea at a time and currently that position was filled with my impersonation of Chance.
“You didn’t tell him, did you?” Her head had spun to me so fast I thought her neck was going to snap.
I shook my head frantically. “No! Of course not. Are you kidding? I can’t tell him that I’m his competition…” I blurted out. “Especially not after I ask for his help.”
“Wait. What?” She crossed her arms, her eyes narrowing on me. “Do you mean you asked him for help with the competition?” I just swallowed, trying to think of the best way to answer the question. “Do you mean that you asked the guy that you like to teach you, unknowingly, how to beat himself?”
“Maybe,” I mumbled underneath my breath; the way she put it did make it sound kinda-sorta-really bad.
Shit.
A million reasons had flown through my head, a million excuses to give - “I needed help and he was the one who offered” or “He might be interested in teaching riders after this year, so I thought I would give him a chance to practice” or “I really wanted to see him again but I couldn’t admit that to myself, so instead, I asked him to help me thinking that it would be a legitimate cover-up for my embarrassingly incapacitating desire to be close to him no matter the cost to him or me.”
Ok, not the last one because the last one was the truth and the truth was only getting in the way of my target: winning. Even though I’d inadvertently admitted that I would be seeing him again, I still ended up cowering away from revealing to her that there could be nothing between Wyatt and me—and that I’d told him just as much. Maybe if I had told her that, she wouldn’t have looked so disappointed in me as I ran out of the house.
Although, as I lay in bed tossing and turning for the better part of an hour, my mind tried to figure out a way for that not to be the case. I had to ask myself, what was going to be the worse distraction—continuing to deny the desire between us or diving in with the hopes that it would release its hold on me?
Maybe if I just fucked him and got it over with, I could move on with what was really important to me. Riding. Winning.
Back and forth. Heel to toe. I carved through the options in my head. Why couldn’t everything be as simple as the mountain?
Tomorrow, I had to see him. Tomorrow, I was going to be alone with him again. My only saving grace was that we would both be covered with layers of clothing on the side of a mountain instead of comfortably clad in the seclusion of my kitchen with the suggestive undertones of a chick-flick to incite poor decisions.
Tomorrow my two biggest desires became one. The man and the mountain.
As I drifted off to sleep, I wondered who would come out on top?
MY TEETH CHATTERED TOGETHER AS I jogged towards Cup of Joe with my board. I was two minutes late, but it was So. Freaking. Early. I swore that there was more than an hour’s difference between six and seven AM because I felt like a zombie. I prayed that the instant coffee I’d chugged on the drive over would kick in soon.
Of course, Wyatt was already there waiting for me, his pristine white jacket and black pants blending in with his surroundings. His held his board on one side of him, leaning casually against it as I approached. My stomach tightened familiarly. Maybe he should consider modeling.
“Sorry,” I mumbled when I got close enough. His eyes took me in—over-sized gear, no makeup, and my skin flushed from the cold and, well, him.
“Couldn’t wake up this morning?” He teased.
“Something like that.” I set my board down and zipped my jacket up higher. “Although this cold is doing a pretty good job.” He chuckled as we both bent down to strap in.
“I can help with that if you want.” His gaze
caught mine and I knew we were both remembering my ridiculous suggestion of kissing to keep warm. No kissing, Channing. I was about to reiterate my ground rules when he reached in his pocket and held out his hand to me. “Hand warmers. If you want them.”
Oh.
I smiled slightly and took them. I didn’t really need them at the moment; I just wanted the excuse to touch him. We pushed over to the Village Express lift in silence, my eyes looking around to see that we were legitimately the only people here aside from the two guys working the lift. The Express could seat six, so I made sure to sit a reasonable distance from him on the bench. Although, if I had sat closer, I might have been a little warmer—the cold air biting into my skin as we flew up the side of the mountain.
“How were your lessons yesterday?” He asked, watching me through his goggles; I couldn’t see them but I’d felt his eyes since we’d sat down.
I’d been staring out towards where the lift would drop us off, still acutely aware of every slight movement of his body. When he spoke, I forced myself to keep my focus off of him even as I answered. “Good. Busy. There are always a lot of people who come in for the Games, so the lessons get filled up quickly.”
“I thought about what you said.” Oh boy. I’d said a lot of things.
“I’m afraid to ask—but which thing in particular are you talking about?” Hopefully, not about the kissing—or no kissing. Or touching. Or coffee. Or dates.
“Not that. Don’t worry, Channing, I’ll respect your wishes.” I swallowed over the lump in my throat, partially relieved and partially disappointed by his words. “I meant about teaching.”
“Oh. That.” I’d almost forgotten about that.
“Yes. That.” He laughed. “I’d really never considered it before—I’m not sure why, but now I can’t seem to let the thought go. But if I’m seriously contemplating it, I want your honest opinion when we’re done with this if you think I’m any good at it.”
“You want my opinion?”
“Of course.” His tone suggested how ridiculous he thought my question was. “I mean, I appreciate that Zack and my mom both think that I would be good at it, but they are family; they don’t count.”
“You told your brother and your mom?” I squeaked out, praying that he didn’t tell them that it was my idea.
“Is that a problem?” I could hear the confusion in his voice.
“No. Of course not. I mean… I’m just wondering… did you tell them it was my idea?”
“Well, it was your idea…” True. “Zack says ‘thanks’, by the way. I think I’ve annoyed the living shit out of him trying to decide what is next for me.” I sat there in silence. “Is that not ok?”
Why was I making a big deal out of this?
Because Wyatt was making a big deal out of me, I answered myself.
“No. Of course, it’s ok,” I answered quickly. Lie. I didn’t want to be thanked for a future that I couldn’t be a part of.
The end of the lift approached, so we swung the safety bar back above us and glided easily off the chair.
“Ready?” He turned and asked as he strapped himself into his board while I sat down quickly to do the same. I nodded. Wyatt immediately turned and moved down the Sunnyside trail towards where the entrance to the terrain park broke off. I pushed myself back up and began to follow.
Even though I quickly gained speed, I was still several feet behind him.
“What—Where are you going!” My head jerked to the entrance of Snowmass as it flew past me on the left. He’d blown right by past the trail. There was no question in my mind that I needed to continue to follow him… wherever he was taking me. Finally, he began to carve and slow down to the point where I could yell to him. “Did you fall asleep there, Olsen? The park is back that way.”
“I thought you wanted me to teach you?” Came his cryptic response, as he veered to the right and stopped in front of the Big Burn lift.
“I do…” I muttered, quickly unstrapping as he was already moving to catch the next chair. This one only sat four, which meant that when it captured my seat, I was much closer to Wyatt than before; and my body immediately reacted to the difference. “But last I checked, the triple cork required a kicker and all of those are in the parks… and we just passed the entrances to all of the parks.”
His arm came up to rest along the back of the lift, partially around my shoulder. “Channing, do you trust me?” Our heads were close, encased in helmets, and covered with goggles, but none of that mattered to my traitorous body and the desire that rolled through it.
“Yes,” I replied quietly. I just didn’t trust myself.
“Good.” He smiled. “Because we aren’t going on the park today.”
“What?!” I exclaimed, shaking my head. No, no, no; this wasn’t right. I needed to be on the park. “I need to learn the triple, Wyatt. I don’t have time to waste doing… whatever it is--” I broke off when his left hand turned my helmet to face him, his helmet clanking against the front of mine. I froze even though I knew there was no way it was physically possible for him to kiss me right now with all of our gear in the way.
“Channing, calm down.” He stared at me—into me—and I swallowed the rest of my protests. His hand held me there.
“Tell me what happened.”
“What do you mean?” I whispered.
“At the Open.” Oh. My body shuddered at the memory I kept trying to suppress. Our breaths mingled in the few inches that separated us, the warmth clearly visible in the cold air surrounding us. I wasn’t cold though. Losing myself in his eyes, I began the story that had yet to be spoken from my mouth.
“Chance and I were both invited to the Open. There was no question that he was going to win it—I mean, you weren’t there—he was—is—so good. I told him I wanted to learn the triple and I remember him turning and looking at me—deadly serious—and nodding as though he expected nothing less from me.” I laughed sadly, not because it was funny, but because the memory of my brother stung. “We rented time at a park that came with an airbag base to practice, and for two weeks he trained me—taught me how to do it. And I did.” I felt Wyatt’s surprise even though he stayed silent; he didn’t know that I’d actually landed the trick before. “I did it; I’ve done it. I remember he was so proud. And then the competition started—men first; Chance took gold.” I swallowed hard, remembering my brother standing and smiling on top of the podium.
“What happened?” Wyatt pressed quietly, bringing me back from the memory.
“Nothing,” I said, blinking rapidly to disguise my tears. “I choked, that’s all.” All he needed to know.
He would have pushed further, but the lift was ending and we had to get off. Slipping onto the snow in silence, we both came to a stop at the top of the surrounding trails.
“Can you tell me what we are doing up here?” I asked, the resignation in my voice clear.
“We are up here to forget about the pressure,” he said simply. I just stared at him like he had two heads. “You’re stressed about nailing this triple and there’s no way that you’re going to land it if you are stressed. If you’ve landed it before, it’s obviously not your skills that are holding you back; it’s your mindset—and having you attempt the trick over and over and over again when your mindset is the problem is going to get us nowhere.”
Interesting. I bent down to strap my back foot in. “So, then what are we doing?”
“We’re going to ride the mountain.” His answer punctuated with that devastating smile. “We’re going to explore the Powerline glades and just enjoy the powder.”
“I don’t know—“ A snowball hit me in the chest. ”Hey!” Without a second though, I bent over, balling snow inbetween my mittens to return the shot. When I stood, he was right in front of me; my breath caught at his closeness.
His hands reached for my hips and my skin burned underneath all the layers I was wearing. He pulled my body against his, the snowball disintegrating in my grasp as my hands came to stea
dy me on his chest.
Again, I knew that there was no way he could kiss me, and yet the realization only made my body ache for it more. Instinctually, my legs tried to close to ease the pressure between my thighs, but my feet were strapped in, preventing me from alleviating the torture.
Even though my arms slightly separated our chests, from the waist down I was flush against him, legs spread, with his hips directly between them. Through the snowpants and jackets, I could feel his arousal, pressing hard against my core.
“What are we doing?” I demanded breathlessly even as my gloves gripped into his jacket, my hips uncontrollably arching against his.
I saw his jaw clench with the restraint it was taking not to break his promise to me. “This morning,” he rasped, “we’re going to forget about the competition, forget about the pressure. This morning, we’re going to just have a little fun.” I sucked in a breath. “Think you can do that, Channing?” He whispered hoarsely, his mouth trapped inches away from mine because of our helmets.
I never dreamt that this was how a helmet would save my life.
I moaned in response, not trusting my words or my body that pressed itself against him. He growled, his eyes darkening with desire. And then he was gone.
He gained speed, flying into the fresh powder and disappearing into the trees. It took me a few seconds to find my wits and catch my breath. It had been weeks since I’d been down any of the other trails on the mountain—and even then, Emmett, Nick, and I usually just did one trail as a warm-up and then stuck to the park. I tried to remember the last time I’d spent an entire day just exploring the mountain. I couldn’t.
The first time, I took the glades slowly, familiarizing myself with the trail and the conditions. Trees and powder everywhere, we carved the first tracks in the virgin snow, and met down at the lift. I could only look at him confusion that my body felt—torn between needing to focus on the competition and wanting to throw caution to the wind and enjoy the day. “Again,” was all he said. The second pass I moved with more speed, slicing a new path down the mountain; that time, when I arrived at the bottom, there was a hint of a smile on my face, my worries becoming buried with each run. The third time, I pulled up to the lift and I couldn’t have wiped the happiness off my face if I tried; that time, I turned to him and insisted, “Again.” Not that he had any other plans.
The Winter Games Page 13
