Page 28 of Winter Break Up

Charlie snickers. “On this, I’ll agree with you. I’m pretty sure Emily made me burn that coat after that winter.”

“It was hideous.” I shudder.

“Are we going to stand around talking, or hit the slopes?” Mercer pulls his snowboard out of the back.

“Should you be snowboarding?” I can’t help blurting it out.

Not only does he seem agitated, but he has an entire career to think about. Snowboarding on a rehabbed ACL and MCL could be detrimental, and I’d hate to see anything happen to set him back further for this season. I know that soccer is what Mercer wants to do with his life, and this seems foolish.

Everyone turns to me like I just stuck my foot in my mouth, and Mercer’s eyes squint in what looks like annoyance.

“I’m fine, thanks. I’ve been snowboarding for years and my knee is fully recovered. You don’t have to be concerned with me, Em.”

The way he says that last part makes it sound deeper than just snowboarding, and a pang of hurt reverberates in my chest. I know we didn’t get to talk about us, and I know he learned the truth about my breakup, but Mercer’s giving off this vibe that he’s pissed off at me. One second, he was in my bed telling me he’d take care of me anytime, anywhere, and now he can’t get away from me fast enough?

Color me confused.

Following everyone inside, I try to separate my feelings about Mercer from the ones of excitement for this weekend and concentrate on the latter.

“There’s my favorite C-cup!” A zany voice penetrates the vaulted ceilinged great room, and I look over to see a familiar face by the cavernous fireplace.

“Zoe!” I cry, unable to hold back my excitement at seeing my roommate.

She decided to come meet us on the trip at the last minute, taking an Amtrak train from DC on a whim. She came last year to experience our snow tubing extravaganza, and I couldn’t imagine this year without her.

“Oh my God, I missed you.” My pint-sized blond pixie of a roommate slams into me, and we embrace like we haven’t seen each other in years.

“Missed you more. I’m so glad you decided to come.”

Hugging someone who has been there for me in the darkest times is a comfort I didn’t realize I needed right now. Zoe was right in the thick of my depression and helped me hang on to hope when I couldn’t see it myself. If I hadn’t already thought so, I know she’s the forever kind of friend.

“Look what I made!” She gestures across the room, and my eyes land on a Christmas tree.

Except, there aren’t ornaments on it. No, the entire six-foot tree is decorated with mini bottles of liquor.

“We have to go level by level and finish them all by the time we leave!” She claps her hands together like the evil mastermind she is.

“Everyone in this house is going to get obliterated.” I shake my head at her nonsense.

“That’s the plan.” She beams. “How was the drive? What’s going on with that?”

She nods her head in Mercer’s direction, and he stomps up the stairs in the direction of the room we used to stay in.

“Ugh, it’s been … well, you got my texts. We need to debrief but not in front of all these people.” Zoe understands me like no one else, and I need her take on this, but not now.

“He sure is gorgeous, especially when he’s pretending not to be in love with you.”

“Zo, you saw him for all of ten seconds.” She couldn’t possibly pick up on that.

My roommate shrugs. “The guy is like a heat-seeking missile to your pussy. I can feel the vibes from here. Through a locked door, even. I don’t need to meet him. You two are definitely fucking this weekend.”

My stomach trips over itself at her statement, and I know for a fact that my cheeks are scarlet. “Your mouth is going to get you in trouble someday, I swear.”

“Already has, babe. Speaking of vulgar mouths, you should just be glad I didn’t make a pornament tree like I wanted to.” Zoe wiggles her eyebrows.

I tilt my head. “A what?”

“A pornament tree, duh. A Christmas tree full of sex toys, maybe a couple of lewd pictures, definitely some dick memorabilia. The star at the top could be like a wedding cake topper, but it would just be people fucking. Maybe doggy style …” She trails off like this is a design decision she’d actually have to contemplate.

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