by Piper Rayne
“Morning,” I nod.
She takes off her goggles and shoots me a dangerous smile. A smile that could make me grab her and push her up against a tree, kissing her until she forgot why she hates me, and why a piece of me hates myself every time I look at her.
“You’re late,” she says, and I grit my teeth but don’t bother responding with the reason why. “I hope you don't mind, I woke up early.” She glances behind her to the driver of the snowmobile and the two people at the bottom watching our interaction with curiosity. “I just thought—”
I rise to my feet, towering over her. “No problem. I offered it up, glad you're taking advantage.”
Grabbing my board, I wish I wouldn't have called off my own team today. I’d thought it would just be the two of us and I’m not sure why I’m bothered that it’s not.
“Well, your turn,” she says and I watch as she runs ChapStick across her full lips. The way she purses them out a bit makes me want to find out what flavor she uses—with my tongue.
“I'm still setting up, you go ahead.”
“Great.” With her board under her arm, she heads the last few steps to the drop in of the halfpipe before strapping herself to the board.
I wait, this time up on the hill, watching her do the same shit she just did a second ago.
Strapping on my helmet and my goggles when my turn comes, I let the music lead me. I mix up stunts I've been trying to perfect. Allow the freedom of flow to rule my tricks. Then I try the one trick I'm only ready to land in the airbag and a pillow of comfort catches my fall that would have been on my head had I tried it without.
The snowmobile guy rides me back up the hill, which is nice of him guy since he's only supposed to be here for Mia. She waits for me instead of heading down right after.
“Are you planning to do that at the Winter Classics?”
“We'll see.” I shrug. “I'm not sure it will be ready.”
She nods. “Is that your order of tricks?” I can't pinpoint what it is about her voice. Intrigue, but something else, maybe self-confidence.
“Nah, I freestyle it until the last few weeks and then coach and I will decide on the order. I tried to just do the same order time and time again, but I got bored with it and I think I lost my flare.”
She nods, staring down at the halfpipe, her teeth biting down on her lip.
I lean in close over her shoulder. “You wanna know what I think?”
She cringes, stepping away from me. “I’m sure you’ll tell me anyway.”
“You play it too safe.”
“Who asked you?” She straps both her feet on her board.
“Do one trick that you don't normally try into the airbag.”
Without responding, she places her earbud in and slides down to the starting point.
Still stubborn as a fucking cat.
Her board slides down into the halfpipe and she does the same old shit.
Knowing she doesn't give a crap what my opinion is, I head down right after her.
And that's our first hour. Her dropping in, me dropping in right after. No conversation, no talking, just two athletes doing what they do best.
Then after a particularly challenging run, I find her waiting for me again at the top of the pipe, her goggles resting on her helmet, her teeth biting down on her bottom lip again. The snowmobile driver speeds back down the hill, picking up the two other teammates and they disappear, leaving us alone. I tense, getting the feeling that this is more than just break time.
“Hey,” I say, placing my board in the snow and taking off my gloves.
“Can we talk for a second?” she asks.
I sit down on the snow. “Sure.” My stomach clenches, prepared for a conversation like this since I found out we were going to be thrown together.
“Can we call a truce?”
My tense shoulders relax a bit. Not at all what I was expecting.
She picks up a handful of snow, pats it into a ball and throws, shockingly not at my face, but as far as she can behind her.
“I don't hate you, Mia, so I don’t really need a truce.”
She nods, her eyes concentrating on her mitten-covered hands piling the snow into another ball.
“Well, I hate you... at least I did.”
“Mia?” She looks up, those brown eyes so similar to her brother’s focusing in on me. “I get it. I’d hate me, too. We don't have to be best friends. You can use my pipe as often as you like without me even here. I don't care about that.”
“What am I missing?” she asks, raising a brow.
“What do you mean?”
“Never mind.” She shakes her head, second-guessing whatever it was she was going to say. We’re both silent for a minute before she spits out, “I play it safe because I'm scared.”
Shit, I should’ve kept my mouth shut, but it's hard when I see the talent she has wasted in simple tricks she perfected over a year ago.
“I know,” I say softly.
“Aren't you? I mean you were there, you saw it.”
Now it's me diverting eye contact and playing with the snow. I’ve avoided talking about that night with any of the Salters for four years. I’m not sure I can handle it.
“Yeah, but I love it. I’m myself out there and not all up in my head. It’s like an itch I can’t ever fully scratch. It took me a long time to realize that if I fear it, I'll never be successful.”
“My parents aren’t exactly thrilled about me continuing in Brandon’s footsteps. He tries to explain the pull to them, but they aren't listening.”
“If you didn't snowboard, what would you do?” I ask the tough question I had to ask myself. Is this worth losing it all?
“Nothing.” She shrugs. “I love it, but I miss the adrenalin rush, you know? The feeling when you nail a trick you've been trying for months. You're right that I play it safe because I don't want the I told you so from my family should I slam.”
“Then get up on there, and try any trick you want and land in the airbag.”
She looks up from the snow in her hands, her eyes glowing with excitement.
“It's safe. Just see how it feels.”
For a second, the silence around us feels oppressive and I second guess pushing her. Maybe she's not ready, but she surprises me when she stands and straps herself to the board with a short nod.
Without a word, she dips into the pipe, doing her run of the mill tricks until her final one when she tries a triple cork. She lands in the airbag, but she was close to nailing it.
Since the snowmobile isn't down there anymore, I hop on the one I rode up on and meet her at the bottom to bring her back up.
“How did it feel?” I ask, waiting for her to hop on.
She holds her board in her lap, smiling over at me. “Awesome. I want to do it again.”
“Then we’ll do it again.”
I race us up the hill and for the rest of the day, she tries to nail the triple cork. For the first time in over four years, I laughed with a Salter and I'd be lying if I said it didn't make me feel both good and…undeserving.
Chapter Nine
I walk into the meeting room in the ski lodge pumped for the day. Today we’re doing the Kids Day Out program, where we talk to underprivileged kids before they spend the day out on the slopes.
I always look forward to these…nothing can beat the look on the kid’s faces when something you say to them clicks, or when they discover for themselves that they have a natural aptitude for the sport. It’s like I’ve helped to open up a world of possibilities for them.
“Here you go.” Candice shoves the bag full of hats for the kids into my arms then scurries off to talk to the program director before I can thank her.
I slide into the chair next to Mia who has a cup of tea sitting by her row of markers. As always, she has that faint smell of honey. I can’t help but think that it’s not normal to notice this. I mean, I can’t remember thinking about what a girl smelled like ever before.
“Good mo
rning,” I say.
“Morning.” She leans back in her chair. A pair of skin-tight leggings adorn her legs and she’s wearing a sweatshirt with the logo of one of her sponsors on it. She's killing the endorsements, that’s for sure.
“So, what's the drill?” she asks. “Just sign anything they bring up?” I think this is her first time doing anything like this.
“First we give speeches.”
She cringes.
“It's not that bad. Usually the kids are all in awe, their mouths hanging open, that I'm not sure they even hear anything. Speak from the heart and you'll be fine.”
“No one told me there was a speech. I would’ve prepared.”
I sip my coffee as the kids begin to file into the room. Boys are whispering and pointing to me. “It's Grady Kale,” I overhear a few of them say.
“You'll be fine. Just convey your love of the sport. How hard you worked to get here. That sort of thing.”
She nods, but her face pales and for such a confident female. I never would’ve thought a room full of kids would intimidate her.
The manager of the program comes over to introduce herself. “Hello, I'm Georgie.” She holds out her hand, her eyes locked on mine for a few extra seconds. She’s wearing leggings, boots, and a long sweater that hangs open revealing a shirt that reads, Icing Isn't Just for Cupcakes.
“Grady.” I take her hand. “Nice shirt.”
She looks down as though she forgot what she was wearing and then smiles. “Thanks.” Her hand extends to Mia and they shake hands.
“Mia.” She smiles at Georgie, but it doesn’t hold its usual friendliness.
“Can I tell you how excited I am to have you speak to the girls? We've been sharing stories this entire week about your journey to the Winter Classics. The triumphs you've had to overcome.”
Mia's cheek flush the softest shade of pink. “I wish I was better dressed.” The two of us look at her, but I'm pretty sure I'm the only one who has their blood flow being redirected to between their legs.
“You're dressed fine as you are. You’re a snowboarder, that's what they expect.” Georgie's known Mia for two minutes and can calm her down whereas I've known her her entire life and my words did nothing.
“Well, thank you.”
Georgie smiles between both of us and then turns to face the group of kids that are now seated in front of us, legs swinging under their chairs, eyes poised expectantly in our direction.
“And here I thought she was more interested in you,” Mia whispers, choking down her laugh.
“Well, she clearly prefers what you have to offer.”
“Okay boys and girls, as many of you know, behind me is gold medalist, Grady Kale, and Winter Classics competitor, Mia Salter. Let's give them a warm welcome and thank them for having us here!”
Georgie steps aside, clapping on while her eyes are focused in on Mia from the side of the room now. Seems someone might have a crush on my sidekick.
“You go first.” I nudge her on the leg with my pointer finger.
She shakes her head.
“No. You,” she whispers.
“You want to go after the master?” I ask her and she rolls her eyes in a playful way, but says nothing. “Suit yourself, but you'll have a lot to live up to.”
She giggles and I'm starting to like the sound of her happiness more than I should.
I stand and round the table, sitting down on it. My own legs swinging in the same fashion as all the kids.
“Like Miss Georgie said, I'm Grady Kale. I've been snowboarding since I was younger than all of you.”
I talk a while longer, but hands are raised in the air before I give my full spiel. I prefer answering their questions to listening to myself talk so I call on the red-haired boy in the front row.
“Is the metal heavy around your neck?”
I shrug one shoulder. “It’s kind of heavy, but you don't really notice it because of all the adrenaline running through your system when you’re standing up there.”
“Are you two boyfriend and girlfriend?” a blonde girl with pink-framed glasses asked.
I swear all the kids inch forward waiting for me to respond.
“No.” I look over my shoulder to Mia, who raises her eyebrows.
“But my mommy said...”
Miss Georgie steps up to the girl and kneels down in front of her. “Katie, remember we talked about that? We’re not to ask personal questions.”
Katie leans closer and whispers loudly for all to hear, “My mom told me to ask.”
I chuckle under my breath.
“I know, but we're here for them to tell us how they came to become snowboarders.”
“My mommy says that Mia would be crazy to not want him. That he's so hot she's surprised the snow doesn't melt under his board.”
Mia giggles behind me and I shake my head. “Looks like you have a fan out there,” she mumbles.
“Why don’t we hear about what they hope for in the upcoming Winter Classics?” Miss Georgie suggests.
“Yeah, Grady is going to win gold,” the red-haired kid says.
I jump down and fist bump him. “Definitely.”
“No, Matt Peterson will.” The kid behind him kicks the other little boy’s chair.
“Nuh-uh, Grady's gonna win.”
“Now, now boys.” Miss Georgie has to step in once again.
“Matt is a great rider, too. He'll definitely be a challenge for me.” What I don't say is that I'll still beat him.
“How fast do you go down?” a kid near the back calls out.
“Pretty fast. The faster I go, the higher I get off the halfpipe.” I slide back on the table. “How many of you ski or snowboard?”
A few kids raise their hands.
“They're all going out after this. A lesson on the bunny hill,” Miss Georgie says.
I clap my hands. “Great. Can I join?”
All the kids’ eyes widen. This is the reason I do this.
“Um.” Candice steps forward from the side, her finger up in the air. “You and Mia have to do the promo shoot for that sponsor…”
I stare blankly at her. Does she want to tell these kids no?
Looking chagrined, she steps back until she hits the wall.
I return my attention to the kids in front of me. “Is anyone scared?”
A few kids look away. No one is gutsy enough to raise their hand.
“Let me tell you a story then.”
“Were you scared your first time?” The red-haired kid who might be my biggest fan but did look away when I asked, seems eager for me to tell him some feel-good story about conquering my own fears.
I have fears that these kids wouldn't even understand yet.
“No.” I look over my shoulder at Mia. “I was always a ‘do it now and ask how later’ kind of kid. Whatever my friends did, I did without really thinking of the consequences. Which did land me in the hospital a time or two and I don’t recommend that for you guys.”
They laugh although it's really not funny. I may have learned to play by the rules a bit to keep my career going, but challenge me, and I'm not one to ever tap out. Which can lead to disastrous results…
“This story is about a young girl. She had these two braids that were always uneven with a crooked line down the middle.”
The kids laugh and I hear Mia scoff, which only spurs me to go on further.
“She begged for a board. Her parents said she was too young and asked why she didn’t want to play with Barbies or dolls.”
“She didn't love Barbies?” one girl asks, sharing a look with another girl.
“Nope. She didn't much care for makeup or anything girly. Her brother was a snowboarder and she wanted to be one, too.”
The blonde-haired girl with glasses looks to Mia with a knowing smile. She's a smart cookie and obviously has done her research on our story.
“Did they ever buy her one?” another girl in the back asks.
“They did, for her birthday. H
er brother being a pretty cool older brother agreed to take her out the next day, show her a few tricks, so she went to bed that night with her board.”
“In her bed?” the same girl with the Barbie question asks, eyes wide and again she looks at her friend.
“Yep. Probably hugging and kissing it like it was a boy.”
“Okay, let’s not exaggerate.” Mia stands and slides to the front of the room, joining me on the table.
“The next day her brother and his friend took her up the ski lift which took a lot of convincing. We each took an arm and plopped her down between us.”
“The chairlift can be intimidating at first,” Mia says.
“Getting her off proved just as hard as she fell twice, but we finally got her situated, strapped into her board, standing on top of the smallest hill besides the bunny hill because she,” I raise my hands and do air quotes around the last bit, “didn't need to warm up with babies.”
I take my chances, glancing to Mia who is shaking her head in disapproval at my story. If I had to guess though, the gleam in her eyes makes me think she secretly enjoys that I remember.
“Did she go down?” the red-haired kid asks.
I nod. “After a lot of convincing and holding both my hand and her brother’s halfway down. It took her the entire day to go down by herself, but she did it.”
“Really? Does she still ride?” the Barbie girl asks.
“She does, and you know what?”
They all stare up at me.
“She's sitting right next to me.”
“I knew it!” the red-haired boy screams, his two hands clapping.
“It was you?” a child in the middle row asks Mia.
She nods, knocking her shoulder into me. “I think Grady may have embellished the story a tad, but I pumped myself up for weeks and I thought I was ready. But standing at the top of the mountain is intimidating. It's okay to admit you're scared, but try to push through it because you might discover something great. Something that will change your life. I can't imagine my life without snowboarding now.”
“Mia should be an inspiration to all of you. Sometimes fear can be your biggest motivator.” I look to my left only to be caught by surprise.
