Page 80 of Beautifully Complicated

It’s actually not that steep—the sledding hill might have been worse—so my trepidation isn’t about careening down the hill out of control. It’s about making a fool of myself in front of Aiden’s friends, all of whom are here tohelpme down the hill.

It’s not that I don’t appreciate their willingness to be here when they could be on more advanced terrain, but learning a sport in front of accomplished athletes is a little daunting. At least they all seem like decent, if slightly immature, guys.

“I hope you took a piss already, because it’s gonna take you thirty minutes at least to find your dick under all those layers,” Jagger cackles.

“Can you even lower your arms?” Cam chimes in.

“I can feel them, so no frostbite,” I justify my oversized coat.

“I actually think it’s pretty toasty, and I’m from Arizona,” Liam says.

At least they’re treating me like one of them.

“Did we decide which foot you lead with when we set up your bindings?” Aiden asks as he sets my board on the ground.

Back at the house they had me stand on the board to get the straps over my boots positioned—something about making sure I had the right center of gravity—but no one said anything about leading feet.

“I don’t know what that means,” I tell him.

“Which foot do you want in the front?” he clarifies.

“Which foot do you have in front?”

“It doesn’t work like that,” Cam says. “You have to lead with the foot that feels natural to you.”

“How do I know what that is?”

A firm shove from behind has me pitching forward so I have to take a step to avoid falling.

“Left foot,” Jagger declares, probably because that’s the foot that broke my fall.

“You could’ve warned him, Kitcat,” Cam tells his boyfriend, using some nickname Aiden tells me has a top secret meaning. I assume the guy just has a weakness for the candy bar.

“Warnings defeat the purpose of acting on instinct,” Liam says.

“Exactly,” Jagger agrees.

Aiden gives me an apologetic look from under his helmet and kneels before me to help me get my feet in. When his are similarly positioned he reminds me of the pointers we went over on the gondola on the way up.

“Your front leg does the steering, back controls speed. Keep your weight over the front.”

I lean forward in what’s supposed to be a lunge but isn’t really since both feet are strapped to the board. Before I even move an inch, Aiden is guiding me to stand upright.

“Don’t lean so much, just try to carry your weight on your front leg.”

“How do I do that without leaning?” I ask.

“Pretend like you’re standing on one leg,” Cruz says. I open my mouth to object—I can’t pretend to do that if they’re both strapped down—but he cuts me off. “Don’t compensate by leaning forward, just give that leg your weight. That’ll increase the pressure on the front of the board and gravity will do the rest.”

Despite being mostly vertical, I do slide forward a bit.

A chorus ofniceandgood jobechoes around me, but it’s Aiden’sthat’s it, Maointhat means the most.

As we come to the section of the hill where the slope increases, Aiden instructs me to stop. “Remember to keep your weight forward. If you lean back, you’ll pick up speed.”

“Whenthat happens,” Jagger says, “because it will. Try to center your weight and rock back on your heels. It’s like putting on the brake.”

I get going again, and for a few seconds everything is great. I feel stable, I’m coasting along nicely, and it’s actually fun. Then suddenly I’m going a little too fast for comfort, so I rock back on my heels, turn somewhat left and end up on my ass.

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