Page 31 of Can I Tell You Something?
“I think that’s why Ryan pulls the big brother act sometimes. He, my most recent ex, was a friend of Ryan’s, and I think he blames himself for what happened.”
“Did this guy hurt you?”
“Not physically, no. And honestly, I am fine. I’ve been with a few other guys since—”
“OK,” Cameron interrupts, laughing. “That’s enough about the dumb idiots you’ve dated. I’m here to rescue you now.”
“Oh thank goodness,” I fawn, mocking him. “My knight in shining ski gear?”
“You’re so fucking cute, you know that? Come here.” He reaches for my cheek and leans in for a kiss, but our helmets bump together and when he tilts for a better angle, we butt heads again.
“Stupid helmets,” he laughs and I can’t help the smile that spreads across my face. “I’m banking that kiss for later.”
“Promise?”
“Hannah, I want you naked the first chance I get. If we weren’t on a chairlift right now, you wouldn’t have a scrap of clothing on you.”
“Oh.”
“And hey, the scenarios are made up, but the moves are all mine. I promise I’ll take good care of you.”
Ohhh.
Chapter 20
Hannah
I’maddingTheMarmotto my list of Happy Places.
Specifically, the deckchairs on the balcony at The Marmot, with a belly full of hearty French onion soup topped with gooey Gruyère toast, and the low buzz you get from precisely one glass of champagne.
It’s a perfect bluebird day, with not a cloud in the sky. I bask in the warm sun as the beats of Lo-Fi house music float down from the bar slightly up the hill. Cameron has thankfully kept his hands to himself over lunch, bar the occasional knock of his knee against mine when nobody is looking.
Even if he’s not touching me, I’m tuned into his presence. Those soft waves springing back after a morning underneath his helmet, the furrow of his brow when he looks my way from behind his sunglasses. The fullness of his lower lip, the back of his neck, tan from our days beneath mountain sunshine. He kept up with me all morning as we worked our way down a few of the easier red runs, but, always cautious my brother could appear out of nowhere, I couldn’t bring myself to do more than sneak a few quick kisses.
The tension between us is thrumming, so electric I could pick him out in a room while blindfolded.
When everyone has finished their drinks and taken a bathroom break, we carry our skis to the top of the Lièvre run and get ourselves clipped back into all our gear. I feel high and giddy. On thin mountain air, fizz, my family being all together, Cameron, and life in general.
We usually race to the bottom, but today I’m in no rush, wishing I could bottle this feeling and keep it with me as long as possible.
“Last one to the bottom is a rotten egg!” Mum shouts, zooming off before Dad even has his ski poles in each hand.
It used to drive me bananas when she said that. What kid wants to be a rotten egg? Now though, I like that she still says these silly things from our childhood, and in hindsight I can see it made us better, bolder, faster skiers.
“Oh, soI’mthe rotten egg? Very nice, Cheryl!” Cameron shouts after her. Ryan and Dad follow her, leaving Cam and me alone at the top of the run. He bumps his shoulder with mine and I feel like perhaps I could lean in and kiss him. “Want to make a new rule?”
“Depends on the rule.”
“Last one to the bottom gets a kiss?”
“Deal.” I stamp my ski poles into the snow, fold my arms across my chest, refusing to budge an inch.
“You’re not even gonna make me work for it?” he laughs.
“Nope.”
Cameron ducks his head to angle it below my helmet, and then his mouth is on mine. Soft, warm, a moan slipping between his lips and into mine. “I want you so much.”
