Page 44 of Racking Up Penalties
I push off, sliding next to Ethan. The slope stretches before us, a pristine canvas yet untouched by our boards. I take in a deep breath, trying to shake off the unease coiling in my stomach.
“Let’s not hang back, alright?” Ethan’s voice cuts through my thoughts, his brown eyes glinting with a challenge. “You can keep up, can’t you?”
“Try me,” I retort.
We push off together, cutting through the fresh powder. The swish of our boards meld with the rhythm of the mountain, and I feel the apprehension start to slip away. Maybe it’s the adrenaline or the sheer beauty of the winter scene around us, but I find myself gliding closer to Ethan, matching his pace.
I want to honor what Tessa asked of me.
We reach the bottom of the run in tandem, a pair of tracks behind us weaving a story in the snow. I catch Ethan’s eye and, for a fleeting moment, there’s a flicker of something like respect. Or maybe it’s the reflection of my own newfound appreciation mirrored back at me.
“Nice run,” he says simply, but his tone carries weight.
“Thanks,” I reply, my lips curving into a genuine smile. “You’re not too shabby yourself.”
This unexpected camaraderie is disarming. As we queue for the lift, I realize that Ethan’s easy grin and the rush of the descent have started to chip away at the icy wall I’ve built between us.
I’m carving a path through powder on the next run when it happens—a sharp jolt, and then my right foot is suddenly free. I twist, trying to compensate, but physics has other plans for me. I go down hard, a tangle of limbs and board, my breath punched out in a white cloud against the blue sky.
“Shit,” I mutter, half-dazed as the slide halts. Tessa and Tristan are just specks below, too far to notice. My heart hammers, not from pain, but frustration. I’m about to sit up when a shadow looms over me.
“Crash landing, Johnson?” Ethan’s voice teases, but his hands are already at work on my boots. “You’re supposed to keep the board on your feet, you know?”
I push forward to sit up.
“Ha-ha, very funny, Matthews.” I can’t help the smirk that quirks my lips as he crouches beside me, deft fingers assessing the damage. His close proximity doesn’t feel as invasive as I’d expected, instead, there’s a sense of camaraderie I hadn’t realized we were capable of.
“Looks like your buckle decided to bail on you.” He messes with it. “Good thing I know how to fix it.”
“And you’re going to help me?” I quip, even as relief floods me. He doesn’t need to stop; he doesn’t need to help me. But here he is. I watch him work, and something shifts in the way I see him. He’s not just an asshole with a chip on his shoulder or the rival on the ice.
He’s being nice and helping me when he could have raced right past.
With a click, the buckle is secured again, better than before. “There you go.”
“Thanks.” The gratitude is genuine, warmth blooming in my chest. “I owe you one.”
“Deal.” He winks and offers me a hand up.
I take his hand, surprised at the strength in his grip as he hauls me to my feet. We brush off the snow, and for the first time today, I feel an easy smile stretch across my face.
“Ready to catch up with Tessa?” he asks, tilting his head toward the slope, all traces of mockery gone.
“Absolutely.” And I mean it. The day stretches out before us, unexpectedly bright. Maybe it’s the adrenaline, maybe it’s the simple act of assistance, but the barrier between us seems less insurmountable now. Maybe we really can have a fun day together.
“Race you to the bottom?” I challenge, feeling lighter, freer.
“Bring it on,” Ethan answers with a grin, and we push off into the descent, side by side.
Snow sprays out in graceful arcs as we carve down the slope, Ethan a few paces ahead. His form is impeccable, knees flexing rhythmically with the terrain.
He probably had lessons growing up.
“Nice moves,” I call out, pushing myself to keep up, surprisingly eager to match his pace.
“Thanks!” Ethan shouts over his shoulder, his voice carrying on the wind. “Hockey isn’t the only thing I’m good at!”
I take a particularly steep turn, trying not to focus too hard on how natural being with him feels.
