My Best Friend's Brother

by Chrissy Fanslau

  We soon stood before a comforting sign that read,

  Warning: Experts only beyond this point!

  I was no expert, but Luke obviously had some faith in me. It probably helped that I got the hang of stopping.

  I moved my fingers in and out of a fist to get the blood pumping back to my hand. It was at least ten degrees below zero. We were both bundled up, except for the snow pants. Since I didn’t have a pair, he wore polyester pants like mine. He didn’t bring his goggles, either, because unless it’s snowing or he’s planning to go super-fast, he thinks they’re cheesy.

  “So, you’re absolutely sure you’re comfortable with this trail? Because it’s dark now, this is harder than the other trails, and I’m willing to take an easier one!”

  “I’m fine!” I assured him, “I have a helmet!”

  He laughed. “Okay. But let’s start out slow. I’m kind of worried.”

  At the top, we were at about a 7,000-foot elevation and much of what the snow covered was rock.

  There were cliffs and spruce on either side of us, and at one point my faith in stopping just wasn’t there—though I was up for the challenge, mostly to impress him.

  We went easy until the halfway mark. We got there at arms’ distance. When the slope got a bit safer and the cliffs not as steep, I actually grew the courage to push him into the snow and take off.

  He got to his feet laughing and began the chase. I could barely contain my excitement. I used my poles to pick up speed, squealing so loud when he closed in on me I thought I’d cause an avalanche.

  “This is crazy!” he laughed, falling a third time as I pushed him down, barely evading him.

  I slowed for him. My lungs hurt from the frost engulfed in them.

  “You okay?” he asked as he caught up.

  “My lungs hurt.”

  “Where’s your scarf?”

  “Don’t have one.”

  “You’re lucky this isn’t the Alps! You wouldn’t make that mistake if it was!”

  I raised an eyebrow, still short of breath. “You skied in the Alps?”

  “And in Chile, too, when I was ten!” He laughed. “I was born on skis, didn’t you know?”

  “Ever ski anywhere basic?”

  “Colorado, Canada, Montana, Vermont… I don’t know, are those basic?”

  I giggled. “Not really.”

  Before long, we were three-quarters of the way down. It was very dark, cold, and serene. I skied the bends, in the lead when I suddenly saw a dark flash. He screamed, “Watch out!”

  I froze, colliding without a chance to avoid it. I fell and struck snow-covered rocks with the ends of my skis, whirling around like a frisbee. Luckily, the very end of a fence stopped me—I would have gone over the cliff if my ski didn’t get caught in it!

  My face was covered in dry Alaskan snow, which is incredibly cold and sandy. It felt like it had gotten into my coat, too. But the adrenaline masked the cold for a while.

  “Adonia!” he gasped as he dropped to his knees and reached for me. “Don’t move, okay, so you don’t fall!”

  Wow, I’d cheated death by about six inches! My heart pounded. The drop below seemed steep, but I couldn’t tell by moonlight alone. “What did I hit!” I screamed his way in a daze.

  “I’m pretty sure you hit a moose!”

  I hit a moose? That’s what that was? He grabbed my hands and pulled me to flatter ground.

  “Where did it go?”

  He looked around and pointed north. “I think it crossed your path and trotted off the cliff.”

  “What!” I screamed in shock.

  “I’m serious! I think it was suicidal!”

  I laughed so hard I could barely get to my feet. And even then it made us giggle once we got going again. It was unbelievable—we both had to have missed what really happened. Why would a moose trot off a cliff?

  Then again, they are pretty dumb.

  It was manageable for a while, but the cold caught up to me. Snow had definitely seeped into my gloves, jacket, and boots when I fell, and I was really beginning to feel the chill. I slowed and uttered, “I’m cold.”

  He stopped me and we embraced. “It’s okay, we’re almost down.” His arms felt really good around me. “Come on,” he breathed, pulling me along, “let’s get you warm.”

  He bought me hot chocolate at the ski lodge. We talked by the fireplace for a little while, and headed to his black Jeep Wrangler. The engine roared to life and, once warmed up, Luke turned on the heat full blast.

  I unzipped my jacket. Beneath it was my formfitting blue turtleneck.

  “Feeling better?” Luke asked, handing me what remained of my hot chocolate and sipping his. The car was dark except for the red lit-up buttons inside and the headlights he’d turned on, which illuminated the landscape. Outside was a glistening winter wonderland. The parking lot was covered in fresh snow with a handful of cars scattered about. An occasional skier waddled by, tugging at the ski pass on his zipper.

  “I’m great, thanks. Maybe we could just talk for a while,” I breathed. I didn’t want to go home.

  I threw the jacket in the back seat. His eyes were focused on me. His hair was gelled back, giving it a suave look; his lips turned upwards to form a sweet smile. Everything about him was perfect, even his skiing was perfect. “I’m really glad you took me skiing today. I would never have learned otherwise.”

  He grinned. “You never would have hit a moose, either! You’re really lucky you got away without even a scratch! That thing could’ve easily trampled you to death!”

  “Or sent me over the cliff!” I giggled.

  He pulled his jacket off and rested it on his seat. He wore a gray fleece sweater with black pants. After turning down the heat and turning off the headlights, he moved his arm around my seat and smiled seductively. I saw him only by moonlight, and I really liked it.

  “It’s good you didn’t get leather seats, they suck in forty below,” I said to break the silence.

  “Do they?” he breathed.

  “Yeah, they get all slippery.” I paused briefly. “You’re lucky your dad spoils you! What did your mom say when you got it?”

  “She expected it, she just didn’t think it’d be so soon after I got here!” After a second, he reached over, touched my lip, and whispered, “Chocolate.” I felt a dab of chocolate on my lip from my drink.

  He moved his head forward. I shifted toward him. When his lips touched mine, I closed my eyes. He opened his mouth and I opened mine.

  We kissed. Eagerly. Barely even stopping for air.

  His pulse raced through the side of his neck. I reached with my other hand and pulled him closer, wrapping my arms around him. As I slid under him, he moved over me. At first it was a bit awkward, being so cramped in that front seat, but I quickly grew comfortable.

  He ran his hands through my hair and down my shoulders and sweater, breathing in my ear. When he slipped his fingers up my sweater, my breath caught in my throat.

  “You okay?” he whispered. His eyes twinkled.

  I nodded, a bit scared.

  “Do you want to stop?” he asked in a quivering voice so low I could barely hear him over my heartbeat. He was trembling.

  After brief hesitation I shook my head no.

  We kissed again. I sort of hoped he’d stop, because I was on the fence about it and didn’t entirely trust myself to. I hadn’t known him very long, but being with him was so comfortable; it was hard to want him to stop.

  It may sound crazy, but I feel like I’ve known him forever.

  He started sucking my neck, so I started sucking his. He slipped his fingers farther up my sweater, until his fingertips reached the underwire of my bra. Then they stopped. Shy eyes met mine. He breathed fast. He had a gleam in his eyes and a trace of a smile. His cologne—or aftershave, or whatever it was—smelled amazing. I could feel his hair prickling my forehead.

  I boldly pulled his shirt off. My hands glided over his abs. Did skiing do all that?

&n
bsp; He wore a soft smile. “Can I tell you something?” he breathed.

  Our eyes met.

  “I think I’m in love with you.” His forehead touched mine. Beads of sweat from the tips of his hair gathered on my forehead.

  I felt weak. Breathless. And nervous, because I did not know what to say.

  So I blurted, “I hate pepperoni.”

  “What?”

  I stared at him stupidly. Again I did not know what to say.

  “You know,” he smiled, “a taste for pepperoni isn’t the first thing I look for in a girl.”

  I groaned. “I need to stop blurting stuff out.”

  He laughed. “Why do you do it?”

  “I dunno. Sometimes I don’t know what to say so I say the first thing that comes to mind, and other times I think with my mouth. It mostly happens when I’m nervous, or upset.”

  He grinned and squeezed me tight. “Well I think it’s cute.” He winked.

  “That’s because it doesn’t happen to you!” I assured him.

  “Hey, if people knew what was going through my head half the time, I’d be in some serious trouble.”

  I grinned. “Luke?” I whispered. “I am so lucky I met you.”

  He nibbled my earlobe. “I’m lucky you met me, too.”

  “I think Lilly will adore you,” I continued.

  He looked thoughtful. “Her approval’s important, huh?”

  “Well, we’ve been best friends forever!”

  He looked skeptical.

  “Okay, not forever. But she’ll love you! I think you’re perfect for me. She’ll think you’re perfect for me!” And she’ll think you’re hot.

  “What if she doesn’t think I’m perfect for you?”

  I frowned. How could anyone in their right mind not think he's perfect? He’s fun, he’s sweet and he’s seriously HOT. But I figured maybe it’s important to guys. “Oh my God, why wouldn’t she?”

  “Let’s say she doesn’t approve—for whatever reason—would you still want to be with me?”

  I grinned and pulled him into an embrace. “Yes!”

  He pulled away again. “Are you sure?”

  I pecked his cheek. “I’m sure I’m sure!”

  He wrapped his arms around me and gave me one explosive kiss after another.

  I ran my hand over his body. His skin was so smooth. His shoulders and arms were curved in all the right places. He felt incredible.

  His finger pulled on the belt loop of my pants. He pulled my body toward his, all the while kissing me. Sweating. Panting. He was at least as nervous as I was, if not more.

  He felt like a dream. I could hardly believe I was there with him.

  But our fun ended abruptly. Because he suddenly gasped, “Holy shit! What time is it?”

  He reached and hit the button to turn on his radio. We stared at the red digital numbers in horror. It was 11:18.

  I scrambled to get him off me, then moved into my seat. He sat up in his and buckled his seatbelt.

  I reached into the backseat for my coat. I dug into the pocket for the cell phone. Four missed calls—and I was afraid to listen to even one of them!

  “I need to get home. Fast!”

  He backed the Jeep up with a jolt. “If I hurry, we might make it in half an hour.” He turned out of the lodge parking area and rushed toward the highway. “Man, how the hell did it get so late? Your dad is going to kill me!”

  He stomped the gas, spinning rubber on ice. He sped up to pass a few cars. If I wasn’t so worried about Dad killing me, I would’ve worried about Luke killing me instead.

  I wanted to ask him to slow down, but if he did, I’d be even later, and probably dead anyway.

  At 11:50 we pulled into the driveway. Dad appeared just as we exited the car. His glare could freeze hell over. “Where were you? I was on the phone with the police!” He hung up the cordless and stomped back inside. We followed him in.

  I stood in the foyer, scared stiff. I wanted to apologize, but I knew it wouldn’t matter and I was too scared to even open my mouth.

  “It’s my fault, Mr. Morrison, we were skiing and lost track of time. We went on a more difficult trail.”

  Dad pointed to me. “Did she get that hickey on the trail?”

  Luke gawked at my neck. I hoped Dad wouldn’t ask about the one on Luke’s.

  Luke looked at my father, obviously short of words. “I’m sorry, sir, it won’t happen again. I swear… never…” He crept back, closer to the door.

  “Dad, he’s telling the truth,” I lied.

  “You are grounded for a week! After that, I want you home at eight o’clock every night!” Dad turned his finger to Luke. “And if this happens again, you will not be allowed within a hundred yards of my daughter!” Dad looked at me like he barely knew me and motioned toward the stairs with the cordless. “Get in bed!”

  I glanced at Luke and hurried upstairs.

  Dad talked quietly. I sat at the top of the stairs and struggled to hear for exactly seven minutes. Then Luke said “Good night, sir,” and left.

  I got to my feet before Dad could see me and hurried into my bedroom, in tears. How would I manage a full week without him? I knew I couldn’t.

  ~ ~ ~

  My missed phone calls:

  6:43 p.m. It’s me, Lilly. What’s up with this, no one I call ever answers anymore! Just wanted to let you know the beach is great, almost as great as the mall! I wish you could see it. Met a really cute guy from Orlando today, his name’s Jason Steinbeck. I highly doubt I’ll ever see him again, though, because he vanished after he went for a dive—either he really wanted to get away from me or he was eaten by a shark. I’m bothered! In any case, call me! It’s been forever! Need gossip! The number at the hotel is with your dad, I called your house earlier. You seriously have to tell me about that guy you met, you’re killing me!

  8:33 p.m. Adonia and Luke, sitting in a tree… k-i-s-s-i-n-g—!

  Sullivan acting nine. I deleted the rest.

  10:10 p.m. Adonia, this is Dad. Your curfew passed ten minutes ago. Call me, young lady. We need to talk.

  11:03 p.m. You know who this is. If you don’t get home right now, you will be grounded until the day you leave for college. Do you understand me? You’ve better study hard to make sure that day comes so you won’t be grounded for the rest of your life! Come home the instant you get this, this is not a joke!

  VI

  I didn’t wake up until almost noon, when Dad knocked on my door. “Adonia, you have a phone call.”

  I put on my bathrobe, opened the door and hurried downstairs.

  Dad sat at the kitchen table in a green tee shirt and his striped pajama pants. He was accompanied by his coffee, a pastry, his notebook and laptop. I picked up the black cordless on the counter. “Hello?”

  “Oh, good, you’re still alive! What’s up with your cell? I’ve been calling you.” It was Lilly. I listened to her message after midnight, but I couldn’t call her at four a.m. on the east coast.

  “Sorry, I’ve been really busy with school and stuff,” I uttered, turning to see if Dad was looking. He sipped some coffee, set the large navy mug on the table and kept typing.

  “I wanted to find out about this guy you met. So what’s the deal? What’s he like?”

  I eyed Dad again, unsure how to ask if she could call my cell—I didn’t want Dad wondering what the conversation was about or anything. He eyed me the next time he paused for coffee. I turned away. “Hot?” I said, like I was talking about the weather.

  “You already said that! Looks, please, tell me about the looks.”

  I looked over my shoulder again. Dad glanced back at me, his chin resting on his knuckles. He was most definitely listening. Since I was on a cordless, I decided to head upstairs, but as soon as I took a few steps he said, “It’s okay, sweetie, stay down here. You’re not interrupting me, I’m just editing.”

  I sighed. “It’s hot?” I hinted into the phone.

  She was silent for a moment. “Are y
ou grounded? You’re acting weird.”

  “Absolutely,” I said.

  “Ouch!” She grew quiet for a second. Then she said, “Okay, I’ll ask, you answer. And after that you’ve got to tell me how you got grounded! Hair color?”

  My eyes moved toward Dad again. “Yellow.”

  “Eye color?”

  “Blue.”

  “Height?”

  I pretended he was right next to me. I guess my head came up to his chin. “Considerable,” I said.

  “What got you grounded?”

  I didn’t say anything for a minute, but I finally decided it was probably safe to talk about parts of that story. “Came home late.”

  “How late?” Turns out we were playing twenty questions.

  “Midnight.”

  “You came home late with him?”

  “Yeah.”

  “After doing what?” She giggled. “You haven’t done anything too major in my absence, I hope.”

  “No.” I cleared my throat and changed the subject. “How’s the beach?”

  “Nice. I kinda miss school, though. Plus, my brother hasn’t taken my calls since the day I left! What good is a cell phone if you don’t answer it?”

  “Maybe he’s busy,” I said. My eyes met Dad’s when I turned around to check on him. “I have to go now,” I mumbled. “Call me soon, okay?” And by that I hoped she knew I meant “Call my cell.”

  I hung up and turned to Dad. He looked like he just noticed me or something. “Are you ready for breakfast? There’s some bacon still in the frying pan, and more eggs in the fridge.”

  I walked out of the kitchen. “I’m not hungry, Dad.”

  VII

  “I wanna see you after school,” Luke pressed at my locker Monday morning. He towered over me, his math book in one hand, his other above my head, supporting his weight on the locker.

  I bit my lip in temptation, but unfortunately had to remind him that, “I’m grounded!”

  He sighed. “Then cut creative writing with me.”

  I gave him a look, but he had the sweetest puppy eyes I’d ever seen. I’ve never cut class before, and I couldn’t start now, my senior year!