Page 62 of Just Shred

“How many are dropping in?”

“Fifteen, I think.” I stare at the huge sign for Monster Energy at the top of the slope. The contestants going down look like tiny specks, jumping high in the air to do some mind-boggling rotations, turning a couple of times high above the people lining the halfpipe on either side, before they stick their landing.

“Damn, look at that guy,” Shane says, pointing to one rider who flips three times in the air and lands perfectly.

“They’re fearless,” I whisper. Somehow, the picture of Jesse standing at the base of a pipe like this with the American flag wrapped around his shoulder, and a gold medal hanging from his neck, pops into my mind. Wait, what if he’s a trainer of one of the guys here? Would that mean he’s here?

“I thought you didn’t like going to stuff like this?”

“Trust me, I’d much rather watch the women’s ski final,” I counter. “But even I have to admit, those guys can board.”

“Want something to drink before it really starts?”

“I’d love something hot. I forgot how cold it can be here,” I say, the chilly air filling my lungs.

“I’ll be right back,” he says, disappearing between the mass of people.

I grab my phone from my pocket and it buzzes with an incoming text from Jesse.

Are you playing hard to get, babe? If that’s the case, it’s working.“Okay, fuck it,” I huff and start typing while the roar of the audience grows in volume.

I would really like to see you again.I grit my teeth. No, that’s teenage stuff. I hit delete. If you’re still here, come by. I hit delete again. I miss your dick. I snicker. Definitely not. I kind of miss you, snowboard guy. Before I can change my mind, I hit send. And watch the second guy make his way down the slope. He’s apparently one of the best, judging by the roar of the audience, and the statistics the commentators are shouting.

He gets a score of ninety-five, then poses next to a couple of beautiful girls for the camera. My phone buzzes, and I scan Jesse’s text. Kind of miss you too, babe, and your sweaty hands. I grin, putting the phone back in my pocket. I look up when the commentators announce the next rider. “Next up is one of the best riders on the circuit! With more wins under his belt than anyone, and a silver medal at the last Olympics, this rider is the pride of Aspen!” The crowd cheers, and the sound is deafening. Shane hands me my drink and looks at the screen. “Uh… Ace, isn’t that your snowboarder?”

I look up and stare at the screen. “Fuck me h-h-ard,” I stutter. Suddenly my throat feels dry and my heart hammers in my ears, drowning out the sound of the audience and the music blasting from the speakers.

Pictures of him accompanied with his stats appear on the screens surrounding us, and they even play a little clip from a couple of his previous winning runs. “Holy shit,” I mutter, my breath hitching in the back of my throat.

“Everyone, give it up for Jesse Winchester. Let’s find out if he can bring home the gold this time!” The crowd explodes, along with my heart, as I watch him get ready at the top of the hill.

The asshole lied. Or was I too blind to see what was right in front of me?

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