Page 45 of Racking Up Penalties
We make it to the bottom and see Tessa and Tristan waiting. She looks nervous but smiles when she realizes we aren’t fighting.
“Everything good?” Tessa asks.
I’m embarrassed to admit what happened but surprisingly Ethan covers for me.
“Yeah, we just got behind. I was thinking of maybe doing some jumps. Liam, you in?”
My heart skips a beat — not from fear, but from the buzz of anticipation. “Sure,” I reply, trying to sound as nonchalant as he does. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”
“I want to watch!” Tessa says.
Tristan smiles. “I’ll watch with Tessa.”
“Follow my lead.” Ethan grins, tapping the side of his helmet before darting off toward the snow park.
I tuck in behind him, the cold nipping at my cheeks.
We approach the first jump, and I see Ethan crouch low. He launches into the air with a finesse that leaves me momentarily awestruck. He lands smoothly, a triumphant look flashing my way.
“Your turn!” he calls back, already lining up for the next one.
I swallow the lump in my throat. With a deep breath, I bend my knees and push off, soaring into the air. Time slows as I’m suspended, the world quiet except for the rush of wind past my ears. Then I’m coming down, landing with a satisfying crunch of snow.
“Nice!” Ethan yells, and I can’t contain the grin splitting my face.
“Thanks!” I yell back, borrowing his earlier enthusiasm.
The rest of the course blurs by, each jump a new opportunity to explore this unfamiliar dynamic between us. And by the time we reach the bottom, panting and laughing, I realize today has changed something. Maybe it’s the adrenaline talking, but the confusion over my feelings seems less daunting, overshadowed by the simple joy of sharing this moment with Ethan.
“Good run,” I say, our breaths visible in the frosty air.
“Definitely,” he agrees, clapping me on the back with a brotherly warmth I hadn’t expected.
For the first time, I start to think maybe this could work.
I trudge to the lift line where Ethan waits, a mischievous glint in his eyes that catches me off guard. He’s relaxed, almost carefree, and not in the practiced way he always is.
“Ready for round two?” he asks, the corner of his mouth quirking up as we shuffle forward.
“Born ready,” I reply, trying to match his lightness. The truth is, with each passing moment, I’m less on edge around him. There’s something about the mountain air and the shared adrenaline that’s unraveling the tight coil of apprehension within me.
He’s not as bad as I always thought.
We settle onto the lift, our boards hanging below us as we ascend. Ethan chuckles, recounting an embarrassing wipeout from last season, and I find myself genuinely laughing along. The sound surprises even me—it’s not forced or filled with the usual undertones of competition. It’s real, and it feels good.
The lift reaches the summit, and we push off, side by side. The slope stretches before us, dotted with ramps and rails, begging to be conquered. I follow Ethan’s lead, my heart pounding in my chest as we approach the first jump.
“Go big or go home!” Ethan shouts over the roar of wind and snow.
I launch myself into the air, executing a maneuver I’ve only ever attempted in the safety of my mind. The world flips upside down, and for a split second, I’m flying—truly flying. I land with a jolt of triumph, and Ethan’s whoop of approval echoes across the slope.
“Your turn!” I call back as we race toward the next set of jumps.
Ethan doesn’t disappoint; he twists through the air with a practiced grace that speaks of years spent chasing perfection under his father’s watchful eye. I can appreciate the work ethic in him now, understand it because it mirrors my own drive.
“Show-off,” I tease as we collide gently at the bottom of the run, both of us breathless and grinning like fools.
By the end of the day, my muscles are sore, my cheeks are flushed from the cold, and yet I can’t remember feeling this alive in a long time. As we queue for the final lift ride, the setting sun casts a golden glow over the snow.
