Page 63 of The Season
Something that looks a lot like disappointment flashes in Liam’s expression, and I swallow back the guilt that rises up in response. He probably wanted to walk me to the lineup—no doubt felt some sort of obligation to show me around, since he’d been my trainer for two weeks. But Tessa already offered, and I don’t want to offend her.
“Um, see you after work,” I add, shooting Liam a parting glance over my shoulder. “I can give you guys a ride home.”
Despite my resolution to put space between me and my roommates, I felt awful not giving the guys a ride in to work this morning and leaving them at Tom’s mercy.
Liam gives a tight-lipped smile in return but doesn’t reply, and my guilt deepens.
“You’ll probably get given a beginner group lesson,” Tessa explains as we leave the muggy warmth of the changing rooms. Our boots crunch over freshly groomed snow as we make our way to the lineup, to where instructors mill about next to theLessonssign, waiting for the ski-school managers to assign them their classes. “You’re rostered on for group and private lessons for the adult school—that’s ages thirteen and older, by the way—but you’re unlikely to get a private lesson, not unless you get a special request from a student. Or if it gets really busy, which it will do around Christmas.”
Christmas. It’s hard to believe that’s only a few weeks away.
My eyes dance over the lineup as we near the lessons post, searching for a familiar face, recognizing one or two of the guys I trained with. I’m not surprised that Matty, Antoine, and Eddie aren’t here—Matty told me the day we passed our exam that he’d been allocated to the kids’ school with Antoine and Eddie. Still, there’s a pang of disappointment at not seeing them in the lineup.
Tessa pauses, pulling me toward her and giving me a conspiratorial look.
“Trust me, you want to get private lessons if you can. That’s where all the money is—in the tips. Our wages are shit—even for the upper-ranking instructors, but the tips are amazing. Last year, one of Stephanie’s students gave her a car at the end of the season as a tip.A car. And even Liam manages to get fifty to a hundred bucks for every private lesson he teaches—which is honestly a miracle considering his personality.”
“Does Liam usually teach private lessons?” I ask, remembering Liam’s disappointed expression in the changing room earlier.
Tessa gives me a strange look, then shakes her head. “Yah. Pretty much exclusively.” She purses her lips, gaze going distant. “He’s a good guy. Comes across as an asshole, but actually a real solid bloke, you know? Surprising considering everything…”
She trails off, giving my expectant look a sympathetic smile. “Come on.” She nods toward the growing cluster of instructors. “Let’s see who you’re teaching today.”
* * *
By the timefour o’clock rolls around, my body is aching, my brain feels like soup, and I’m fantasizing about what I could possibly put with the instant ramen waiting at home for me to make it more filling.
I taught two three-hour lessons, one in the morning, one in the afternoon. Two groups of ten teens and adults of various levels of fitness whose only common denominator was that they had never been on a snowboard in their entire lives.
There had been a marathon runner who was doing S-turns within an hour, and a fourteen-year-old gamer who lacked the leg muscle required to rise from sitting to standing. A father with his two teenage sons, who seemed to be in an unspoken competition the entire lesson, and a thirty-something-year-old bartender who had just broken up with her boyfriend.
In between it all, I ate the plain bagel I’d tucked away in my pocket, and nothing else.
Still, despite my hunger and dwindling bank account, I feel a sense of hopeful independence that I’ve never really experienced before. At university, I’d always depended on someone else—on my parents, my grandparents, on student loans. Now I don’t have any of those things, and while the complete absence of a safety net is terrifying, it’s liberating too, knowing that everything I’m doing, I’m doing for me. Because of me. Without owing anyone anything.
“You okay there, Miss Hawai’i?”
I’m startled from my reverie by Pete’s voice and realize I’ve been standing in front of my locker, my jacket half-off, my helmet and goggles clutched to my chest.
I shake my head, and put my helmet in my locker, then unzip my coat. “Yah. All good.”
Black and white spots dance across my vision, but I blink them away, quickly stripping off my sweat-soaked thermals and stuffing them in my duffel to take home, then pull on my jeans and sweater.
“You look a little pale,” Pete comments.
I turn to narrow my eyes at him, but the ground shifts beneath my feet, and I find myself slumping onto the bench instead, my eyes closing as if of their own accord.
“Did you drink enough water?” Pete asks, though he doesn’t sound particularly alarmed. “Don’t want to mess around with altitude sickness, you know.”
“She’s been at altitude for two weeks. Of course she doesn’t have altitude sickness.” Liam’s voice is sharp, full of the no-nonsense tone I heard him use with his class.But never with me, I realize with a smile. He never really used that tone with me.
I feel him slide onto the bench beside me, close enough that his arm brushes against my own. “What did you eat today?” he asks, his voice a low growl.
I sigh, trying and failing to ignore the way that growly tone affects me, how it has me feeling even more lightheaded than before, how it sends heat rushing through my icy, tired limbs.
“Lily…”
Strong fingers grip my chin, and I blink in surprise as he pulls me to face him, his gray eyes full of flinty fire as he stares me down, silently demanding an answer.
