Page 29 of The Lodge

I manage to regain my balance, avoiding a fall. It’s a good thing this slope is relatively gradual:transform self into crumpled pile of skin and broken bonesis very much not on my list of goals for this month.

“Nice recovery,” he says once we make it to the bottom, grinning.

“Thank you,” I say, trying to figure out exactly how ridiculous I looked, flailing down the mountainside.

I can’t quite see his eyes through his Oakley goggles, a single reflective lens that reminds me of a fiery sunset, but I’d put money on it that they’re doing that cute crinkly thing right now.

“Probably should’ve gone over this yesterday, but—”

A split second later, Tyler slumps over, falling sideways into the snow. It’s so shocking, so fast, and I kneel down as gracefully as I can in my snow gear to check on him.

“Tyler! Tyler?”

I put a hand on his shoulder—histhickshoulder, muscles clearly defined even under his ski clothes—and that’s when I realize he’s shaking.

Withlaughter.

He rolls over, and I playfully swat his chest.

“You nearly gave me aheart attack. What was that?!”

“Just showing you how to fall if you have to.”

“With exaggerated drama?”

“To theside,” he says. “You’re less likely to break or twist something if you fall sideways instead of backward.”

“Yeah, see, all I got out of that was ‘Top Ten Ways to Terrify Someone.’?”

“Sweet of you to worry,” he says, still laughing.

“What kind of person would I be if I didn’t?”

“I’m glad I don’t have to find out.” Tyler sits up, and now we’re face-to-face. The snow is cold under my knees, even through my thick ski pants, but the look he gives me is hot, hot, hot. “Any chance you’d let me take you out to dinner tonight to make up for scaring you?”

Dinner is harmless. I have to eat, right? And eatingwithsomeone beats eating alone. Not me crashing his place unannounced because I’ve locked myself out—but us going somewhere together, on purpose.

The thought of going out to dinner with Tyler is… yes. He’s funny, he’s thoughtful, he’s kind. He’s patient and considerate—the sort of guy any girl would be lucky to spend time with, romantically or not.

“Only if there’s no naked spinach involved,” I reply, downplaying my excitement.

“I’ll make sure any spinach we encounter is completely, decadently clothed,” he says, and suddenly all I can focus on is his mouth, full and tempting in its playful smirk. “I promise.”

“Okay, then,” I say. “It’s a date.”

After my lesson ends, Tyler walks with me back to our building so we can both freshen up for tonight. The clouds have edged outthe sun for the first time since this morning, and it looks like snow might not be out of the question.

Tyler offered to store my ski gear with his at the ski school so I won’t have to keep hauling it back and forth, and it’s amazing how much more pleasant this walk is now that I don’t have to juggle it all. Quicker, too—and with infinitely more opportunities for his hand to brush against mine (threetimes, so far!). He’s giving me a mini tour along the way, pointing out notable spots in the ski village, all of them picture-perfect and straight out of a travel magazine.

We wind down the path, passing the ice-skating rink and the café and all the other village shops, as well as the place where another path splits off toward the main lodge. It’s getting darker by the minute. Between the fiery lanterns and the globe string lights everywhere and the way all of it makes the snow sparkle, this place feels incredibly magical: the perfect setting for a first date.

Adate, I mean.

His hand brushes against mine again, and he’s so close now that our arms brush, too.

What have I done?

I told myself I would take the Chloe approach to hanging out with Tyler—nothing too serious—but the more time I spend with him, the more I wonder if I’m capable of Chloe’s level of chill. Maybe it would be possible to keep my heart out of it if Tyler were less handsome, less thoughtful—if he never made me laugh, never put me at ease.

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