Page 23 of See You Next Winter
“Yes, he’s on the same course as me.”
“Are you going to marry him?”
She scoffs, and starts stacking the dishwasher, her back to me. “I'm twenty, Ryan, give me a break.”
“But what if you do?”
What if I never get to touch you again?
We still hang out a bit, still race each other all over the mountain, still catch chocolate coins fromPère Noëlat the parade, but everything is different now. So when a pretty Italian girl tries to kiss me at Rico’s, I don’t say no. And when she invites me back to her hotel, I don’t say no to that either.
Chapter 18
Ryan
Kayla and I skiedtogether on Boxing Day, but she's leading a tour today, and Hannah's taken Cameron out for more ski practice. I've chilled out at home all day.
We've barely had any time for the three of us to hang out and race each other like old times, but I guess that's my fault for bringing a beginner to the mountains.
It's probably a good thing he's here to keep my sister company. Once Kayla and I struck up our deal, we used to feel guilty about ditching Hannah. Until we had our hands down each other's ski-pants, that is.
I need the rest after our last two nights together, anyway. Nights where we stayed up for hours, talking and laughing until someone’s hand landed on someone’s thigh, or our mouths got too close and conversation turned to kissing without us even noticing.
Every day with Kayla is better than the last. Before this trip, one of us has always had to sneak out, so we’ve only slept over a couple of times. Getting to hold her all night, her ass pressed against me, my nose buried in the nape of her neck was fucking heaven.
So why do I feel like utter shit? Seeing her cry when she discovered my tattoo was awful, but finding out she has an almost identical one hurteven more.
Skipping Christmas two years ago wasn't an easy decision, but I thought it was for the best for both of us. Knowing she’s struggled to move on too makes me see what a huge mistake that was.
I could have lost her, lost everything, but I don’t know where we go from here. We can’t be together, but we clearly don’t want to be apart.
All Kayla has ever wanted is to live in the mountains. As soon as she was old enough, she was passing all kinds of instructor qualifications to build a life out here.
And ever since Dad took us along to the film sets of some of his more famous clients, all I’ve ever wanted is to work in the industry. Could I move here? It’s unlikely. This is Hollywood, for fuck's sake, there’s no other opportunity like it.
I work hard, I’m reliable, and good at what I do. I’ve made good connections in the industry, and I think my workload could stay steady for as long as I want it to. My French isn’t good enough to make it over here. There are studios in London, but is that any better? It’s not like we ever entertained the idea of doing a long distance thing when I lived in London and she lived in Edinburgh.
What’s the point of being in a relationship if they aren’t close by? I don’t want to be with someone I can’t hold at night, can’t cook dinner for, can’t curl up with on the sofa at the end of a long day. Still, if there was one thing worth giving all of this up for, it would be her.
After a dinner of leftovers, we hang out on the sofas, but our quiet contentment doesn’t last long.
“For God’s sake, Ryan,” Mum says, fussing around with the curtains by the window that overlook the ski slopes.
“What did I do now?”
She points one angry finger at the ground. “Why is there a condom wrapper on the floor over here?”
“That’s not mine!” I protest. Hannah and Cameron look mortified and when they both say‘it’s mine’, I put two and two together and see red.
While I’ve been trying to fix things with Kayla, my best friend has been fooling around with my sister? The man who tells the world about his sexual exploits for a living, and my little sister who’s had her heart broken so badly she couldn’t get out of bed for weeks?
My sister?
Absolutely fucking not.
I’m on my feet in a heartbeat, there’s a scuffle and screaming, and the next thing I know, Dad is dragging us both out to the balcony.
“I’m not wearing shoes!” I yell at him, but he clicks the closed door behind him and leaves me and Cameron out in the cold. Cameron backs away one hand up in surrender, the other rubbing the spot where my fist connected with his ribs. Or was it my knee? Either way, both hurt.
