Page 38 of Ski You Later
“No, not really. It’s my third year offirst races, and it feels more chill now.” He looks down at me as we walk to our skis and a little smirk forms on his face.
“Are you nervous, Langley?” The subtle hint of humour in his voice makes me glare his way, but I still hesitate before I answer.
Against my wishes, my stomach roils just thinking of the race. Where an athlete places in the first race will affect them for the rest of the season.
Remembering my inability to even land in the top thirty last race season immediately sours my mood.
I know that I’m a better racer than I was last year, but I’m still so scared. “I’d be lying if I said Iwasn’t a little nervous. What if I do bad like last year?” I unintentionally pull at the end of my braid as I look to Roman to see what he thinks.
His brow is furrowed in confusion, as if my words are having a hard time registering. “What do I see here? Is Rhodes Langley thinking negatively?” He takes the end of my braid from my hand, giving it a light tug as he looks at me. “Don’t think like that ever. It’s a horrible mentality, and I can’t support it.
“You are going to kick ass, Langley. That’s the only mentality you can go in with. Understand?” His face is dead serious as he looks down at me, and he only relaxes once I nod in agreement.
He’s right anyway, it’s no way to be going into the new race season. The mental game is just as hard as the physical one, and I need to stay positive if I want to see results.
“Say it,” Roman says as he looks at me expectantly.
“Say what?” I respond baffled.
“I want you to say, I will kick ass, Roman.” I send him a disbelieving stare, but he only stands taller and crosses his arms.
“Fine. I will kick butt, Roman,” I even punch my hand in the air for emphasis.
His whole face cringes as he puts his hands over his face. “Langley, no,” he groans the words as he tilts his head back, but I hear laughter in his tone. “That was so horrible. I can’t even look at you. Just say ass.” His tone is full of humour but holds a serious quality as he keeps his hands on his face.
“No,” I respond indignantly.
“Why not?” He laughs as he looks down at me.
“Because I don’t want to,” I respond with a shrug. A smile pulls at my lips, but I fight to keep it down. Just because he is a lovely boy who is great at warming up feet, doesn’t mean he can tell me what to do.
“When your friends bully you for sayingkick butt,I’m not going to help you.” He makes his voice high pitch as he says kick butt, as well as adding in a leg kick and a weak arm raise.
I glare at the ease with which he teases me, but I have a hard time holding it as he shoots me a smile. This isn’t just a closed-mouth smile, or even a quick flash of teeth. Roman’s smiling widely, and his laughter lingers in the air between us.
Before I get the chance to comment on this smile, he asks another question. “Are you free tomorrow?”
I narrow my eyes slightly, but keep the easy smile on my face as I tell him that I am.
“I saw a flyer reminding me that the winter festival is coming up, and I was wondering if you wanted to go.” His tone is casual, and he leans against the ski rack as he asks this.
The winter festival is the most significant event for the ski community, yet I’m still surprised he even knows about it. Ski racers of every age and from every club are welcome to the winter carnival, and it’s always loads of fun. There are ski swaps, ice sculptures, twinkle lights, mulled wine, and lots of games.
I hesitate for a second, trying to figure out why he would want to go to this. Roman doesn’t exactly strike me as a guy that get excited for the maple taffy making booth.
It clicks just as quickly; this is another attempt for him to put our relationship out there. Picking an event that’s public and making sure everyone’s there to see us.
I forcibly push away that feeling in my stomach that dips every time I remember this whole thing is fake. No matter how muddled my feelings are getting, I owe it to Roman to stick to my half of the bargain. “Pick me up at seven?”
CHAPTER 14
I’m so nervous. I might throw up.
This is a piece of hot, flaming garbage. I stare at myself in the mirror and continue to critique it from every angle. The cardigan seems to stretch in the chest more than I would like, and I can’t remember my skirt being this short. Twisting my body in every angle, I can’t help but hate the outfit entirely and move on to the next one.
Then the next one, and the next one.
Outfit seven seems to be the most promising of the bunch. A white turtleneck with an oversized sweater on top. Then, my dark blue denim jeans help add causality to the look. With one last glance in the mirror, I smile and nod to myself.
