Page 70 of A Beginner's Guide to Forever
Alessia:Can I call you later? I won’t have much reception on the mountain. About to hit the slopes!
We set out for the base village and are soon riding the lift up to the top of the twelve-thousand-foot mountain. The views are breathtaking—the bright-blue cloudless sky provides the perfect backdrop for the snow-covered peaks. Abluebird day, my dad would call it.
Whit yodels on the chairlift, causing us all to laugh. Hart pulls out his phone and snaps a selfie of us. With our helmets, mufflers, and goggles, you can barely tell who’s who in the photo, but our smiles are unmistakable.
I didn’t realize Hart snowboarded. The rest of us have skis, but watching him carve his way down the mountain effortlessly riding the edges is captivating. His tall frame easily maneuvers alongside me. With his black helmet, blackout goggles, and face covered with a muffler, I can’t actuallyseeany of him, but he gives me a thumbs-up, which I return, laughing.
We have an absolute blast, skiing blues and blacks and playing follow the leader all the way down the mountain. Vaughn isfastand sets an impressive pace. Usually followed by Hayes, then Hart and me. Whit takes his time, sailing smoothly behind us. For once I don’t feel my age. I easily keep up with the group, laughing and enjoying myself as I cruise down the breathtaking mountain.
We stop for lunch at a slope-side bistro tucked away on the mountain that offers panoramic views and a casual setting. I see two more missed calls from Joslyn, but when I try to call her back, just like I predicted, I have no service.
We pile our helmets and gloves on an extra chair and order more food than we have any hope of eating. Hart’s hair is exceptionally messy, and I take a picture of him with my phone.
Vaughn runs her fingers through her own tangled locks, laughing. “Ski hair, don’t care.”
Even Hayes seems to be playing nice. “Anyone want some of these fries?” He shoves a basket of fries to the center of the table. “Alessia?”
Since I know the value of playing along, I accept, taking a single fry.
After lunch we bundle up in our gear and head back outside to clip into our skis. Vaughn asks a nearby skier to take a photo of our group. Then she asks for my phone number and texts me the picture. I hear my phone chime in my zippered pocket and remember that I need to call Joslyn back later. Curving to the left through a grouping of pine trees, we make our way to a run the guys have been begging to try. Whit’s eyes are filled with mischief like he’s up for a wild adventure, and I brace myself for a challenge.
We make it to the base, and this time, I find myself riding the chairlift with Whit. I wave to Hart, who’s behind us.
“That run was wild. I think my legs are numb.” I groan.
“I believe the words you’re looking for arethank you, Whit.”
I laugh.
“He’s different around you, you know?”
I didn’t expect we’d talk about Hart.
“Is he?”
He shrugs, shaking a hand-warmer pack. I wait to see if he’ll say more. He shoves the packet into his mitten and looks out at the horizon.
“Vaughn told me he’d been through a bad breakup and could use a little fun.” The words taste bitter in my mouth. I’m downplaying our connection. It stopped beingjust funweeks ago. Being near him, laughing with him, looking into his eyes, I realize I’ve done something I didn’t mean to do. I’ve fallen in love with him.
Whit gives me a serious look, his jaw flexing. “I hope you know what you’re doing. His parents will not be as accepting as his friends.”
His words are ominous, and my stomach drops, and not from our gain in elevation.
Toward the end of the day, the guys want to take one more run, so Vaughn and I head back to the hotel. Après ski is enjoyed with a mimosa by the fireplace in the living room and girl talk.
Vaughn folds her legs beneath her and gives me a long look. “You two vibe well together. Better than I’ve ever seen him with anyone else.”
“I’m sorry?”
“I wasn’t sure at first. But you’re great for him. I just thought you should know.” Her face holds a satisfied little smile.
Her words shouldn’t affect me like they do, but she’s right. Whatever roadblock I might try to invent, there’s no denying that impossibly, unfeasibly, wearegood together. I try to push the words Whit said to me on the chairlift from my brain.
“What about you? Are you dating anyone?”
She scoffs. “Absolutely not. Guys my age arehorrible.” She seems to catch herself. “Except Hart, of course.”
Of course.Yikes.
