Page 24 of Catch Yourself a Snowmance
~ A Charlie Brown Christmas
Carson is a trooper. We spent most of the day together, him falling left and right, over and over. And he never threw in the towel.
Sure, I’d love to ride down a bigger hill, feeling the wind in my hair, the board under my control as I lose myself in the rush of flying down the slope. But being with Carson felt right. I couldn’t imagine leaving him there to learn alone. Besides, we shared a lot of laughs, and he did improve. No one starts snowboarding without their share of wipeouts.
We approach the lift together. The attendant sees us coming and signals for the worker in the booth to slow the chairs. I let Carson shuffle-hop over to the spot where he can wait. Then I slide over and stand next to him. The chair roundsthe control booth and hits the back of our thighs, gently knocking us into the seat and we’re off, headed up the hill to the top of a green run—one designated for beginners, but far more challenging than the bunny hill.
Our thighs touch, and when I look over, Carson has his goggles perched on his forehead. He’s staring at me with a soft smile. His cheeks are rosy from the winter wind, and his warm brown eyes sparkle. There’s something comforting in his gaze.
I’m not sure what we’re doing. I’ve been on the sidelines for a while. Is this what it feels like to want more with a man?
“Thanks,” he says.
“For?”
“Hanging out with me instead of going with the rest of our defecting group.”
“It was fun.”
He looks down at his lap. “Watching me soak my jeans through to my boxers is your idea of fun?”
I laugh. “Definitely.”
The treetops pass underneath us, and before long we’re at the top of the lift.
“Ready?” I ask Carson.
“As I’ll ever be.”
“Put your foot down—the one with the board, like you’re skiing. Then you just set your other foot on the board and slide over to a clear spot.”
“Got it.”
He’s all focus.
Our chair reaches the end of the lift. I board away to an open spot, mostly concentrating on getting out of Carson’s way. When I turn, he’s sliding straight for me, but he’s got this.
“You did it!”
“Are you always this easily impressed?” he asks with an adorable smile on his face.
He drops his goggles over his eyes.
“I’m usually really hard to impress. Be forewarned.”
“Okay. Well, I figure I can only go up from junk food spills, total uncoordination on the slopes and unfavorable choices in s’more preparation.”
I don’t know what to say. I’m already impressed with him. More so the more time we spend together.
“Let’s do this,” he says, pushing away from me.
“Okay,” I say, heading to the top of the hill and boarding down. I pass Carson, realizing too late that I should have waited and followed behind him so I could see if he needed any help. I drag my board to slow so he can catch up. Now we’re sliding down the hill, me in front, him right behind me.
“Great view!” he shouts.
I smile since he can’t see my face. That’s flirting, right? He is flirting. The view includes me—or it is me. Or maybe he actually meant the scenery.
The next words I hear are “Whoa! Whoa … whoa … whoooooaaah. Watch ouuuut!”
