Page 44 of The Season
And then she’s pushing off, a strangled shout dying in her throat a moment later as she drops out of sight, followed by a gasp of surprise when she lands, and then the sexiest fucking laugh I’ve ever heard.
Her laugh in that moment—it should be illegal. It’s deep and breathy, reminiscent of whiskey bars and sunlight, and it goes straight to my dick.
“Clear!” she calls out, her voice still rich with laughter. “Holy shit that was amazing. Oh my god. This snow…” Her words dissolve into laughter again, and I look over in surprise when I hear Antoine chuckling at the sound of it.
I don’t think I’ve ever heard Antoine laugh. Not sure I’ve seen him smile either. He usually frowns, looks at things or people in distaste, and occasionally smirks.
It’s like her happiness is some sort of contagion.
“Right, I’m coming,” Liam calls out, before effortlessly throwing himself over the edge after her.
“That’s what she said,” I say, loud enough that I hope he’s heard me. Maybe it will be enough to distract him from making his landing.
“Fucking dork,” I hear him mutter, the words guttural as his board hits the snow. I grin in reply.
“Do you want to go next?” Antoine asks, staring at the space Liam just vacated, as if it’s some sort of black hole that will destroy him if he passes through it.
“Sure thing, mate,” I reply with a smile.
He doesn’t need to ask me twice. I’m not one of those guys who will say “oh, no, you go” just to seem nice. I’ve waited up here long enough that my fingertips are icy and stiff inside my gloves, my toes pinching in my tightened boots, and my blood thrumming with excitement for the run I know I’m going to have.
And fuck, if it isn’t the run of a lifetime.
I know it the second I drop over the lip of the cornice, the two-meter drop making air sing around my ears, making my stomach flip deliciously, before I land in a cloud of fresh powder.
Snow flies up around me as I sink in, temporarily blinding me in a cloud of white.
Champagne powder, that’s what we call it back home. Back home, it’s the stuff of dreams, the holy grail of skiing, the thing every Kiwi kid wonders about as they’re earning their stripes on windswept ice and crud.
It’s why I turned down Uni and did a ski instructor’s cert at the Polytechnic, much to my parent’s dismay. This, right here, this is what I live for.
Gravity pulls me free, and I’m flying, floating through fresh powder, my skis almost a soundless whisper at my feet. I keep my turns open, gentle, settling my weight back just enough to keep the tips of my skis from diving down and sinking me.
“Wahooooo!”
Lily’s ecstatic cry echoes around us, and I look up to see her several turns ahead of me, with Liam close at her heels. She turns onto her toe edge, just enough so that she’s looking back up the slope, a smile lighting up her face at the sight of me behind her.
“Eddie!” she calls out, lifting one gloved hand to wave furiously at me. “Oh my god, this is amazing.”
“Eyes ahead,” I hear Liam say, that familiar edge of irritation back in his voice. “There’s no prize for getting the most injuries in a season, you know.”
His words don’t seem to have a dampening effect on her mood, because her laughter is back, singing around us with the sound of skis and boards on powder, dancing with the sound of our own joy.
She laughs when the terrain gets steeper and when her board cuts through a massive drift, sending snow flying over her head. She laughs when Matty lets out a string of noncurses up ahead of her, and when Liam snarks from behind her, telling her to stay focused.
By the time we reach the boulder and turn toward the base of the resort, I can feel my own cheeks burning, my mouth dry and teeth cold from smiling the entire run.
Somehow, I close the distance between us, passing Liam’s grumpy ass so that I’m skiing next to Lily, floating just a couple meters away from her. It’s the perfect place, because now I can see her smile while I ski, can see the way her whole face lights up with pure unbridled joy.
“This is so awesome,” she breathes, her smile wide. “I can’t believe I’ve never done this before. Thank you guys so much…” She breaks off, focusing on the snow, on her turns, her lips parted with exertion.
When her gaze drifts back to me again, I reach up, tapping the handle of my pole to my helmet like I’m some gentleman tipping my hat to her. “Anytime,” I drawl. “Thank you for letting us take your backcountry virginity.”
Ahead of us, Matty makes a choking sound. Liam groans from somewhere behind me.
“You’re ridiculous,” Lily retorts, shaking her head, her cheeks pinkening—though that could be from the cold and the wind and all the snow that’s been flying at her face.
She turns her attention back to her riding, but doesn’t look annoyed. She looks beautiful and alive.
