Page 17 of Seduction on the Slopes

“Eric, good to see you again, thanks so much for having us.”

“Thanks for coming on a little early, Miles. It’s great to have both of Team USA’s top alpine medal contenders onstage at one time. Quite the treat.”

“Actually, Marissa Jennings and Tempe Doyle on the women’s team are also good bets for the podium. Don’t leave them out.”

Eric’s eyes bug slightly, and then dart to someone in the wings. Maybe the producer who’s now scrambling to get Marissa and Tempe in here as soon as possible.Do your homework, guys.

“Of course. The ladies are also looking good, and we’ll be talking to them later on.” Sure you will. Now. Jackass. “Anyway, we’re switching things up a little today because we’ve heard some rumors about the two of you.”

He gestures with a finger between me and Crash, and my heart entirely bypasses my stomach and drops straight onto the cheap carpet. What the hell? My head swivels to glare at Crash, and I’m sure my face says it all.What the fuck have you said and why?I didn’t think I had tosayto keep our pre-press sexing on the DL, but apparently—

“You have kind of a special relationship.”

Oh my god. My soul has become a gelatinous pile of green ooze, which is now leaking onto the floor into a mortified puddle. My parents will no doubt watch this interview when it airs. I do not need them to learn that I’m . . . fucking around with my roommate, my teammate, and my goddamn mentee. Crash is a dead person. When I get through with him, there’s going to be nothing left but a pile of curly dirty-blond hair and the vague scent of patchouli. That fucker. After everything I’ve done for him, this is how he pays me back? With sex gossip?

But when I look more carefully at Crash, he also looks surprised. He didn’t see this coming. How did the press find out about this? And why are they bringing it up now? Sure they love romance between the athletes or athletes and celebs—our luger Rowan Andrews and some boy-bander have been all over the news because apparently they’ve been k-i-s-s-i-n-g—but if it’s just sex? Everyone here has sex, and if you keep it in the village, no one usually cares. I think our speed skater Blaze Bellamy has banged just about everything that moves in the village and some things that don’t and I haven’t heard a peep about it anywhere outside the village. Isn’t this show supposed to be family-friendly?

But when the screen behind us lights up with something other than the show’s standard SIG backdrop, I turn. It’s a picture of me at a competition just after my first SIGs. Not that I remember it super well, because it was almost twelve years ago, but I know because there’s a sign next to me proclaimingMeet SIG Gold Medalist Miles Palmer!I’m shaking a boy’s hand and smiling. I’m not so hot with how old kids are, but he’s probably ten or so? Kinda scrawny, unkempt, and . . . holy shit.

Eric Colton is beaming at us. “Isn’t that something? Miles, you look the same, but Crash . . . you’ve grown up quite bit since this picture was taken.”

Yes, I’m well aware that I’m older than Crash, and not by a little bit. But we’re still peers. World class athletes who are on the same team, and for the most part that’s what matters. Yes, I mentor him, and yes, I feel somewhat protective of him, but not in a fatherly way . . . Images of earlier this morning flash through my mind, and no. Parental is the last thing I feel toward Crash.

I’m usually good with the press. Great, even. But at the moment, I’m frozen. What am I supposed to say about this? Yep, just twelve short years ago I’d just turned twenty, was on top of the world, and Crash hadn’t even hit puberty. It suddenly adds a whole new layer of pervy to what’s going on between us, and frankly, that was entirely unnecessary. Quite pervy enough, thankyouverymuch. Not to mention the passage of time that this photograph makes unnervingly obvious is making me feel my mortality. Real hard.

On top of all this, is Eric’s unknowingly awkward questioning going to activate Crash’s upchuck reflex? Because that would make this even worse.Your best hope for medals in the alpine events, ladies and gentlemen: a dinosaur whose knees are going to give out any day and a kid who can’t keep his breakfast down.Ted is going to die and then send his ghost back to murder me. Before I can say or do anything, because my reflexes have been dulled by my freak-out, Crash is jumping in.

“Oh, man. Where did you even get that picture? I look . . . Wow, is that a Nickleback T-shirt I’m wearing? That’s embarrassing. Almost as embarrassing as my hair.” Crash punches me in a bro way on my shoulder. “But you, dude. He’s right, you look exactly the same. Lucky you. Nothing humiliating for Miles.”

I look at Crash’s face, and he’s . . . encouraging me. Trying to tell me it’s okay. Which it is. There’s nothing compromising or suggestive in this picture at all. Nothing that’s going to tell the world that I am now jerking off the kid in that photo—and even worse, I want to be doing more than that.

Don’t worry. No one knows.That’s what Crash is saying with his slightly raised eyebrows and his goofy smile. He’s nailing this, and he’s trying to help me nail it, too.

So I dredge up something to say. “That is from . . . let’s just go with back in the day. I mean, I know I’m the old man on the team, but that’s making me feel like I’ve overstayed my welcome.”

There’s a dip of Crash’s head and then he turns his attention back to Eric. “You know, even back then I remember telling Miles I wanted to be just like him when I grew up. Even though I was some random-ass kid, he took a few minutes to talk to me, encourage me. I really appreciated that, and I think it’s part of the reason I’m here today.”

There’s a swirl of guilt in my stomach, because I don’t remember that at all, but it was apparently a highlight of Crash’s peripatetic childhood. I probably said the same thing to a hundred other kids that day, and none of them are here, so I sure as hell didn’t have anything to do with Crash fighting his way to the top. But it’s adorable and touches my heart more than I’d like to admit that he’s giving me some of the credit.

“Now that I’m on the team, I have to say Miles has been the best mentor a newbie could ask for. I mean, he’s answered all my questions, even the stupid ones, helped me improve my technique. Really made me feel welcome on the team. So he’s not just a phenomenal skier, he’s a good guy, too. Now I want to be even more like him when I grow up.”

Crash punches me again, in the same damn spot of course, and I have to grit my teeth so I don’t sayow.Eric seems pretty interested in this line of talking, though, and leans forward toward both of us. “Sounds like you two have developed a great sense of camaraderie. Is it going to be hard to go after each other on the slopes?”

The filthy part of my mind supplies that it hasn’t been at all difficult to go after him in the shower or against the bathroom door, so the slopes shouldn’t be far behind, but the professional in me, the lion’s share of myself that knows I’ve been working toward this one thing for my entire life, shakes my head.

“No. We may be on the same team, but we’re still competitors. Professionals. I may not have knees like I used to, but I’m going to be gunning hard for this one, and I’ve got experience on my side. Wait your turn, whippersnapper.”

I’m only half-kidding as I wag my finger at Crash, and from the injured look on his face, he knows I would push him off the highest point of a chair lift if it meant I could have those last two medals.

“No way, old-timer. Time for you to make way on the slopes for the next generation.”

Outright aggression isn’t the most natural fit for Crash, but he makes it work, and Eric is clearly entertained. “Seems we have a rivalry on our hands, and I for one can’t wait. Makes me wish you were in the parallel slalom so we could really see you go at it.”

Oh dear god. More dirty thoughts, such dirty thoughts of me and Crash not competing head-to-head, but doing other, much less public things. Game on, Crash.

Chapter Eleven

Miles

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