Page 30 of Winter Break Up

But goddammit, I need a release, and it needs to be something that doesn’t involve Emily Palmer in any way.

Frustrated is an understatement, and after being stuck in a car with her for the morning and then the house for a little of the afternoon, I need cold air and fresh powder to calm me down.

My snowboard glides down the trail I chose, flecks of snow flying up at my helmet as I swivel my hips to stay upright. It’s been a while since I’ve been on a mountain, but it’s like riding a bike. The smooth journey of my descent is a balm to my nerves, which were pretty close to feeling shot when I was holed up in that house.

The entire group of twenty or so people ventured out to the mountain, and it’s about time to pack it up. Charlie came with me for two runs on the snowboard and then went over to the tubing hill to join most of the group. They were pretty rowdy coming out here, to begin with, so I can only imagine what’s going on over there if they’ve been dipping into the spiked hot apple cider that the lodge serves.

Coming on the snow tubing trip wasn’t really something I was up for after everything that’s happened with Emily, but it’s not like I could tell Charlie that. The plan is to keep my distance, drink enough to put me into a deep sleep, and get through the next two days. Oh, and hope my coaches and trainers don’t find out about the snowboarding because they’d definitely kill me for this.

Damn, I hate that Emily was right about this decision. It burns my veins even more than knowing I can’t start shit with her. I can’t yell and scream, I can’t kiss her, I can’t even pick a fight for fear of something happening.

When I watched her fall apart in the break room, it was like my world was crumbling. I panicked, going into fight mode for her and only her. I’d have done anything to stop the fear and hysteria in her eyes.

The last thing I wanted to do when she woke late in the night was pile on to her anxiety further. Listening to her talk about her ex made me murderous, but the broken tone of her voice was what sent me over the edge.

I’m terrified, sad, disappointed, yearning … and telling her about any and all of those things will only make me feel like a huge tool. Emily has clearly been through it this past year, and I had no idea. I was so focused on my injury, on loathing her for how she broke us, that I haven’t really looked at her to notice the cracks.

And now I’m angry at both of us. Me for not trying harder all these years when I am clearly not over her. And Emily, because she’s so buried in the aftermath of her breakup, it wouldn’t be fair for me to ask her to start another relationship yet. Yeah, I know that’s not her fault. I shouldn’t blame her for it. But I’m pissed off, and that anger has nowhere to go, so I’ve been an asshole the last couple of days, taking it out on her.

Ignoring her feels like the easiest way to go, but I realize how immature that is. I’m not proud of it.

My board reaches the bottom of the slope, and I get on the lift to ride back up, my lungs burning from the rush of energy and adrenaline. I’m an endurance athlete; running up and down a field for ninety minutes is my game. Working out my issues on the slopes today feels like coming home in a sense, and my head and heart are clearer as I get on the lift to take me back to the lodge.

Our party of friends is at the bar when I arrive, and it figures my eyes dart directly to Emily.

She’s in a camel-colored sweater that looks so soft I want to peel it off of her. All of that chocolate hair is spun into two braids that make her look like some kind of sexy schoolgirl, and she’s sipping on a steaming hot drink while her nose remains pink from the cold.

Fuck, she’s so beautiful that it makes it even harder to stay away. I’ve always had this problem when it comes to her, and I have to fist my hands until my nails bite into my skin to keep myself from walking over to her.

“Dude, how you feeling?” Zach, the owner of the house we stay at, claps me on the back.

“Pretty good, was nice to get back out there.” I join him and Charlie at the bar.

“You missed Gen and Zoe flipping over on their tube, it was hilarious. They ate it.” Charlie laughs, and I see Zoe flip him her middle finger.

“Want a drink? We were finishing up and going to go back to the house to get the party started, but …”

I can tell the group is looking to me to make sure I don’t want to stay for a drink. I hate this social pressure, but I’ve grown accustomed to it. Because I’m good on the soccer field, people look to me to be an entertainer. It feels like this expectation to be the ringleader when, most of the time, I want to sink into the background and blend in. Some of my teammates who have already gone pro have told me it only gets worse, this pressure of celebrity when all you want to do is be an athlete.

“Whatever you guys want to do, I’m following your lead.” I try to put on a genuine smile, but it doesn’t feel right.

Honestly, now that I’m off my snowboard, not much feels right. Part of me wishes I didn’t come, but I’m here, so I might as well act the part.

The minute we arrive back to the cabin, everyone starts grabbing mini bottles off the Christmas tree Emily’s college roommate decorated.

“Everyone grab one, we’re having a toast to our first night!” Zoe demands.

Reluctantly, I grab a bottle of vodka off the middle of the tree and thank my lucky stars it isn’t rum. Twisting the cap off, I gulp it down when Zach says cheers, and the rest of the group hollers with excitement after we’re done.

Across the circle, Emily gives me a tentative smile. I see the hope there, in her hazel eyes, and all it does is scare me. Once upon a time, she ended us for much less than the future we’re facing now. With her mental health, it’s probably the worst timing to start something. I don’t know if I’d survive her dumping me again.

That thought sits like lead in my stomach, and when everyone moves to the kitchen for snacks and more mixed drinks, I sneak off upstairs. The room I’m sleeping in just so happens to be the same one Emily and I shared for two years straight.

Nothing about it has changed, and the memory of us in here haunts me.

Downstairs, someone is singing Christmas karaoke into a microphone, and I hear another person shout about trying to make red and green Jell-O shots. Considering those take hours to set, and everyone is pretty hammered already, I chuckle at how bad of an idea it is.

We’re so close to Christmas, and I feel more down than I have in months. I guess this is why experts say the holidays are the most depressing time of the year.

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