Page 49 of The Mountain
“Thank you so much for agreeing to come with me to the Canyons,” Jackie says, her eyes fixed on her daughter, Mari, and her daughter’s best friend, Indie, as they traipse off to the lift line, skis tucked under their arms. “Indie’s family were skiing here today and apparently it was a matter of life or death that Mari go with her,” she says dryly, giving me a wry smile.
I grin, but a pang of longing shoots through me when my mind darts instantly to my own friends. To Henry and Ethan, and Summer and Lani—and even Dylan, but he’d been a year younger than us—and how inseparable we’d been growing up, running barefoot through our sleepy beachside neighborhood, then tumbling dirty and hungry into each other’s houses.
“I get it,” I tell her. “I was the same when I was that age.”
Not to mention, I get paid wherever I teach, whether it’s at the mountain or here. And at least here, there’s the chance I mightrun into the guys at some point, since they’ve all backlined to make the most of the fresh powder.
Jackie snorts and I give her a quizzical look. She lifts one brow, her lips quirked with amusement. “That was, what, five years ago?”
I narrow my eyes at her in mock offense. “Eight,” I retort. “I’m twenty.”
I’m secretly pleased by her teasing though—that she feels comfortable enough with me to drop some of that corporate veneer from her first day, alongside the lipstick and perfectly coifed hair. That she trusts me.
Jackie rolls her eyes, then pats me on the shoulder. “Right. Sorry. Big difference.”
I laugh, knocking my shoulder against hers. “Careful, or I’ll take you down a black diamond run next.”
She shudders in mock horror, but I don’t miss the glimmer of excitement in her eyes, or the flush of color on her cheeks as she glances longingly up the mountainside looming above us. At the fresh white runs snaking down between emerald pines, and the chairlifts bobbing daintily up the steep mountain face. Runs that, days ago, seemed like an impossibility to her.
“I think we should head up this way,” I tell her, pulling the map from my pocket and unfolding it between us. My gloved finger traces a black line representing a small, two-seater chairlift off to the right of the resort—a less-frequented area with lots of blue runs. “It’ll take a bit to get over there, but once we do, we can stay there most of the day.” I shoot her a teasing grin. “There’s even a decent café there. For once I wear you out.”
She huffs, squaring her shoulders. “Good luck with that. I’m riding until lunchtime today.”
And I believe her. Yesterday, she didn’t complain about being tired once.
“Guess I’ll just have to push you harder, then,” I tease as we make our way through the lift line. “Because I’m in desperate need of another coffee.”
“Oh, really?” She gives me a sidelong glance, eyes sparkling with mischief. “And why is that? Too much partying? Or are your roommates keeping you up?”
I choke, my own saliva catching in my throat. “I… uh…”
My cheeks burn as the memory of last night rushes to the fore. Of me on my knees, taking Antoine and then Matty in my mouth, of the taste of them mixing on my tongue. Of Liam’s rough caresses, bringing me over that blissful edge. Of Seth’s stifled moans as he came in his hand, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment. Of Eddie’s irritated outburst when he woke up to the sight of all of us.
And then, after, that blissful night spent cuddled between Seth and Antoine, with Liam at Antoine’s back.
The chairlift comes up behind us, hitting the back of our knees and sweeping us upward, thankfully saving me from needing to answer.
“I’m sorry,” Jackie says, giving me a smile that says she really isn’t sorry at all. “I shouldn’t tease you. I just know if I was your age and living with five cute guys…” She gives an unapologetic shrug, then adds: “Let’s just say, I hope you’re making the most of your time here.”
I press my lips together and grin against the inside of my scarf, hoping the soft fabric hides the dopey, lovesick expression that I’m certain will give me away. Because there is absolutely no way I can tell Jackie that,hey, yes, actually I’m exhausted because I had a small orgy last night with my five boyfriends.
“Oh, look,” I say, pointing to a death-defying mogul run off to our right. A double-black diamond, most likely. “I think that’s our next run.”
A pair of skiers are currently making their way between the giant mounds, their knees bending like springs as they power down the run. I wrinkle my nose, wondering what on earth they are doingthatfor on a powder day.
“I would die,” Jackie deadpans. “Also, look at their legs—how are they even doing that? I’m pretty sure my joints are disintegrating just looking at them.” She gives me a worried look. “Please tell me you don’t do that in your spare time.”
I huff and shake my head. “Moguls aren’t my favorite,” I admit, then point to the distant ridgeline now visible to our left. To the sweeping run below it, white and smooth with a night’s worth of fresh powder, the crest of the mountain glistening gold in the rising sun. “I think I like backcountry more…”
Jackie squints into the sun, leaning forward against the bar of the chairlift as she stares at the distant ridgeline. “Are those people hiking up there?” she asks, sounding slightly awed.
I follow her gaze, to where the minuscule silhouettes of two separate groups are making their way along the ridge. Presumably toward Backyards, the same run I did with the guys all those weeks ago. Warmth flutters low in my belly at the sightof them, at the thought—no, the almost certain knowledge—that at least some of those distant figures are my guys.
“Yep. They’re probably hiking to that run there.” I lift one gloved hand, pointing to the open run, easily identifiable by the large boulder sitting at the base. “That’s Backyards. It’s just out of bounds of the Canyons.”
“Wow,” Jackie sighs, her breath clouding the air in front of her. She’s silent for a long moment, the only sound the grinding of the cable above us, the squeaking of her leather gloves as she grips the safety bar. “Is it crazy that I can see myself doing that?” she asks finally, her voice tinged with vulnerability. “I know I’ve only been snowboarding for a few days, but… that just looks incredible.”
I shake my head. “It’s not crazy. You could definitely do that.” And I mean it. She might be in her forties, but she’s fit. Not to mention, she’s got the money to pay for lessons and—eventually—for a guide to take her backcountry.
