Pride

Beth’s heart plummeted as she pictured herself in a broken heap at the bottom of a snow-covered cliff.

“It’s going to be fine,” Kane assured her, catching her look of terror. “I just want you to learn from the best. This way, I can get some good boarding in-and then we’ll have all afternoon to spend together.”

“Okay,” she agreed. She leaned over to try to give him a quick kiss through his ski mask, and practically toppled over into the snow. “And Kane?” she asked as he steadied her. “I’m sorry again about last night.”

“No apology necessary. And I’m glad I got the chance to go to bed early, for once. You were right-we have a big day ahead of us!” he said heartily, and with that, he grinned and glided away, waving in farewell as he careened down the slope.

Beth took a deep breath and inched her way toward the sign marked WHITE STONE SKI SCHOOL: BUNNY BEGINNERS. If she was having this much trouble on flat land, she wasn’t too eager to find out how she would fare on the slopes. But she supposed she didn’t really have another option.

Beth took a place next to Miranda, the only person in the lesson she recognized. They exchanged a quick glance-the disappointed Oh, it’s you vibe was palpable.

But there was little time for disappointment or hostility, not when the instructor, a chipper young woman in a fluorescent orange ski suit and matching skis, had already started rattling off instructions at lightning speed.

Knees locked, knees bent. Shift your weight. But not too much. Hold your balance. Ski poles down. Arms out-

It was far more than Beth could take in, and by the time the instructor began offering tips for slowing down, Beth was half ready to throw her ski poles off the mountain and spend the rest of the day reading in the lodge. Somehow, the instructor’s suggestions-“Line up your skis like french fries to go fast”; “Angle your skis like a slice of pizza to go slow”-didn’t inspire her with much confidence that, when plummeting down the hill toward a giant tree, she’d be able to avoid it.

“Okay, bunnies, time for our first run!” the instructor cheered. “Just push off-and… go!”

As the students around her launched themselves into motion, Beth looked dubiously over the lip of the so-called bunny slope. It suddenly looked like a ninety-degree angle.

“You have got to be kidding me,” Miranda muttered under her breath. She looked about as confident in her abilities as Beth felt.

After a moment, they were the only two students left at the top of the hill. Miranda gave Beth a half smile.

“It’s going to be pretty embarrassing if we give up now, isn’t it?” she asked sheepishly.

“Embarrassment never killed anyone,” Beth pointed out, “whereas skiing…” It was a long way down.

“On the count of three?” Miranda suggested.

Beth nodded and, hesitantly, quietly, they counted off together.

One.

Two.

Threeeeeeee…

I’m not going to die, Beth repeated to herself aloud as she hurtled uncontrollably down the hill. The wind whipped past her face, the bumpy ground skidding beneath her feet.

French fries. Pizza. French fries-no, pizza, she mumbled to herself, trying to force her skis into the proper angle, whatever that was. But it was no use-her skis were going wherever they wanted to go. She was just along for the ride.

It seemed to take forever-then, suddenly, miraculously, she was zooming toward the bottom of the slope, toward a crowd of waiting skiers, unable to stop or turn, snow flying from her wake, until finally, in desperation, she spread her skis into the widest angle she could and slowed to a stop, tumbling over into a blessedly soft mound of snow.

Alive. And safe. And totally ready to do it all over again.

“What a rush!” Miranda cried from a few feet away. She too was flat on her back in the snow, one ski lying by her side, but her face was flushed with happiness.

“A few more runs and we’ll be ready for the Olympics,” Beth boasted, in a still shaky voice.

Miranda, having picked herself up, offered Beth a hand. “A few thousand more runs, maybe,” Miranda corrected her. “I don’t know about you, but I thought I was going to die pretty much the whole way down.”

“I’ve never been so happy to stop moving in my life,” Beth admitted.

“So… you ready to go again?”

“Again?” Beth brushed some snow off her face and planted her ski poles defiantly into the snow as if staking a flag into the ground of a newly discovered land. “What are we waiting for!”

“Are you sure you don’t want to try a lesson first?” Adam asked again.

At least he’s talking to me, Harper thought. It was a small but crucial step in the right direction, given that their morning had consisted largely of Adam refusing to meet her gaze. When he’d had to ask her to pass the salt over the cafeteria breakfast table, he’d first turned bright red, stuttered a few incoherent syllables, and finally spit the words out only by looking fixedly down at his lap. Suffice it to say, they hadn’t spoken yet about the equipment malfunction of the night before. Fine with Harper. She was more than happy to put the episode far behind her. And judging from the look on his face after it had happened, when she’d tried comforting him (“Don’t worry, it happens to everyone”), he was eager to do the same.

The thing was: It didn’t happen to everyone. Or, at least, not everyone who was with Harper. No one had ever had any problems in that department when it came to her-so what was going on with Adam? Was there some part of him, deep down, that didn’t want to be with her?

Stop obsessing, she told herself. Once they’d gotten out of the lodge and onto the slopes, Adam had relaxed, grateful for the chance to focus on something other than their nonexistent sex life. Harper forced herself to do the same. Unfortunately, that meant focusing on skiing… and for Harper, that was proving to be almost as unpleasant a topic.

“Who needs lessons when I’ve got you?” Harper asked, trying to ignore her clenched stomach and rapid pulse. Their chairlift swung gently in the wind, and Harper grabbed the metal guardrail a little tighter, refusing to look down to the ground below. Way below. Instead, she focused on how good the two of them must look together in their ski gear. Harper’s shopping expedition had paid off, and she was sporting a svelte, dark green ski jacket with matching ski pants. She looked good.

In all her fantasizing about this trip, she’d almost forgotten about the whole skiing component-athletic endeavors were so not her thing. But really, how hard could it be? You just point your skis in the right direction and let gravity do the work. Any idiot could figure that out. She wasn’t about to be one of those wimpy bunny slopers that the real skiers just laughed at. No one laughed at Harper Grace. Besides, Harper planned to spend the entire day by Adams side-especially after last night. She didn’t want him to spend any time off by himself. Thinking.

The ride ended far too soon, and Adam pushed her off the lift just in time. They paused at the top of the slope. Harper tightened her grip on her ski poles and focused on the little kids zipping back and forth across the mountain- if they could do it, so could she.

“You ready?” Adam asked dubiously.

She nodded.

“You sure?”

She nodded again.

“Just remember what I taught you, okay? And I’ll be right behind you the whole way down.”

“Don’t worry,” she assured him. “I’ll be fine…”

She pushed herself off down the hill and, suddenly, she was flying through the snow, her hair streaming out behind her, faster and faster. She shifted her weight to the left, to the right, to avoid crashing into someone, veered around an icy patch, and still, faster and faster-

I’m skiing, she marveled, and I’m awesome.

And that’s when she hit the bump.

And her skis flew up off the ground, taking her with them. She soared through the air, her arms and legs waving wildly, helplessly, and for a moment she felt weightless-and then the ground returned.