CHAPTER SIX DIEGO #2
She narrows her eyes, then accepts the cup. As soon as she turns it, she sees my messy handwriting and the huge ‘I’m sorry’ scribbled on the side.
I bury my hands in the pockets of my snow pants to fight the urge to rub the back of my neck. “I went to the Latte Lounge for you and asked Gaby to make your usual order.”
What I don’t reveal is that my sister made me beg before she agreed to make Alara’s drink. Friends can do nice things for their friends, right?
Alara blinks at me, astonished, which makes me chuckle. “If you’d told me you drink plain milk,” I begin, “I would have brought my own carton and heated it up here. Would have even poured it in a mug for you.”
“It’s a dirty chai latte with oat milk and extra cinnamon,” she retorts, lifting the lid to inspect my present.
“Yeah, it’s milk.”
Though she rolls her eyes, the furious blush lighting up her cheekbones is proof that she’s affected by my gesture. “Thank you.” The way she says it so earnestly and how she gazes up at me makes me think she isn’t used to people being kind to her – or at least to receiving freely.
“You’re welcome,” I murmur, and look around her place again. I point to the small plastic Christmas tree placed on a low bookcase under the mezzanine, lights wrapped around it. “Is that a fake tree?”
“Tabitha,” is her answer, as if it explains everything. She takes a sip of the latte, her eyes closing as a low hum rumbles in her throat.
The little sound of pleasure she emits should not have affected me, yet here I am imagining how she would sound if I—
“Cats and lights and Christmas trees are not a good combination,” she states, oblivious to the way my face is flushing.
I clear my throat and look away. “See? Demon.”
She chuckles and grabs her phone from the kitchen island. “Ready to go?”
Nope, but I don’t have a choice. “Born ready.”
Thankfully, the morning goes as fast as lightning, and by the time Lou tries to hug me goodbye, I feel reluctantly alright.
Today my little student learned how to decrease her pace and stop.
I’d be lying if seeing her smile didn’t make pride flare inside my chest, but I’m trying not to grow attached – to this job, to this town, to these people.
“That girl likes you,” Alara points out, as we collect our belongings and head toward the parking lot.
“Can’t blame her.” From the corner of my eye, I see Alara huff at my smug answer. “I’m a very likeable man.”
“That’s debatable,” she mumbles.
I cup my hand around my ear. “What’d you say?”
“That you’re irritating,” she bites out, with a smile playing around the corner of her mouth.
I shrug. “Yeah, well, annoyance looks rather cute on you.”
I can’t help it – flirting with her is such a fun form of entertainment.
Alara doesn’t reply, but the sight of her crimson cheeks causes me to hide my grin behind my hand while I pretend to run a palm over my stubbled jaw.
“Do you want to stop at your place to change?” She glances at my snow pants.
I shake my head. “I left a bag with spare clothes in my locker at Rock Snow.”
She eyes me, a hint of surprise gleaming. “Smart.”
“Stop it with all the compliments.”
“Do you want me to insult you?”
“I’ll pass. But I appreciate you asking.”
As I settle in the passenger seat and crank the heater up, Alara and I agree on grabbing lunch at the Latte Lounge.
We drive back into town in a comfortable silence, Sabrina Carpenter singing about an older man buying her Christmas presents on the radio.
Just as I tear my beanie off to ruffle my hair, a sharp pull in my shoulder makes me wince.
Today’s the kind of day when my body screams at me to take it easy, but I don’t listen.
I never listen to my body, and that’s undoubtedly why it’ll take time to fully recover.
When I meet up with Dr Ellis, I’m torn between being entirely honest and lying about my pain.
I find myself lying more often than not, telling him I’m fine and nothing hurts, but I think he sees right through me.
I mean, I’m not being smart enough. My injury happened less than a month ago, so there is no way I could already feel like I’m ready to train and perform like I used to.
My biggest issue is that I don’t trust him – not completely.
I’m scared he’s going to tell Coach that I’m not ready to go back, that I can’t compete for another six months or, worse, a year.
Can you imagine? Fuck that. So, that’s why those little white lies escape my mouth when he asks if my shoulder or leg hurt.
“You’re hurting.” Alara’s observation echoes softly through the car, and even if I’m compelled by the tenderness in her tone, I keep my eyes on the moving landscape.
I’m positive that I barely pulled a face, so the fact that she knows I’m in pain even while she’s driving and focusing her attention on the icy road is beyond me.
“I’m fine,” I say, more coldly than intended.
I shut my eyes, relieved that she doesn’t press the subject or try to find out more about the injury that might cost me my entire career.
“Have you ever considered coaching?” she asks, after another beat of silence.
“Snowboarding?”
She gives her head a little nod. “Or skiing.”
She’s probably asking this because she noticed the way I’ve been with Lou.
I’ve been patient and considerate and helpful, but that doesn’t mean I suddenly want to make such a massive change in my life.
Or maybe she’s asking to help me open my eyes to other options if I ever have to stop riding at a professional level.
But even the thought of that makes anger rush down my spine and my chest constrict.
“Not in my plans.” I don’t want anything else other than to be a professional athlete.
By the bite in my tone, she can tell I’m keen to change the subject.
I don’t want to be a dick, but I also have to keep a certain distance between us.
Her being able to read me is terrifying enough as it is, so I can’t let her see more.
Can’t give her my broken pieces, because it wouldn’t be fair on her to lay everything out and expect her to fix me.
That’s not what I’m trying to get from this growing friendship.
I have no choice but to be here, and it might not seem like it, but I’m grateful to be in Alara’s company. I could’ve been stuck with some silent, bizarre teenager, but instead I have a pretty girl who’s not afraid of putting me in place when I need it.
I’ll be her friend, but that is where I draw the line.
She points to a bakery I haven’t seen before. “Have you had the chance to test out their donuts yet?”
Surprisingly, I’m not annoyed by our small talk as we continue the drive through town, and I find myself slightly disappointed that we’re almost at our destination.
Being at work means talking to people, socializing, and stocking up a ridiculous amount of gloves. And it means our bubble has to burst.
Alara parks the car in front of the gear shop, then we cross the road to head into the Latte Lounge.
The café is packed. I spot Gaby running left and right as she processes the orders with her co-workers.
“Should we eat in the staff room?” Alara asks.
“I was thinking the same thing.”
Once it’s our turn to order, Gaby looks between her best friend and me with a cheeky smile – one I half want to wipe off her face because there’s absolutely no reason to grin like that.
Alara orders a veggie sandwich, and I ask for a salmon bagel, before having a quiet word with my sister while Alara is distracted.
Gaby then takes the cash I throw down, slides the paper bag across the counter, and extends her palm. “Plus VAT and tip.”
“It’s already included,” I tell her blandly.
Because Gaby is annoying as fuck, she doesn’t relent, so I slap another twenty in her hand. She beams. “Thank you. Have a lovely day, my friends.”
I don’t want to keep the other customers in line waiting, so I lead Alara out of the café with my hand on the small of her back, Gaby’s soft laughter following us until we’re outside.
“Did you pay for me?” Alara peers up at me from over her shoulder, her brows bunched together.
I’m no longer touching her, but the warmth of her body still lingers on my fingertips. “Yes.”
We cross the road again, and her hazel eyes narrow on me. “What do you want?”
“What?”
“You clearly want something from me, so ask away.”
It takes me a moment to understand where she’s trying to go with this as I open the door to Rock Snow and let her go in first. “You think I’m asking for something because I bought you lunch?”
“Yes.”
Fucking hell, has no one ever been kind to this selfless woman?
“God forbid I’m nice to you,” I grumble, as we walk to the back of the store.
Joe waves at us, a gesture we return in sync before disappearing into the staff room, which happens to be empty.
There’s a round table in the center of it with enough chairs for all staff members.
On the wall, there’s a white board with our monthly schedule and other paperwork I’ve barely looked at. “A simple thanks would suffice.”
Alara smiles timidly and sits down, unzipping her coat. “Thank you.”
I wink. “You’re welcome.”
Truly, it baffles me to think she’s been taken advantage of so much that she isn’t used to someone being kind to her without expecting something in return.
That also makes me feel worse about the way I treated her last week.
After taking a seat across from her, I give her her sandwich then unwrap my bagel. I swear my stomach is growling so loudly that Alara can hear it from the other side of the table. Her amused smile tells me she’s heard it.
But then, when she murmurs my name while lifting her sandwich, my own amusement dies.
Gaby has scribbled the ‘I’m sorry’ like I asked her to in the café, except she’s drawn hundreds of mini hearts around the two words.
I’m going to kill her.
Alara bursts into laughter, but her cheekbones are flushed in the most endearing way. “You’re not done apologizing, are you?”
“Not even close.”
We spend our break exchanging anecdotes about Gaby while eating.
At one point, Alara is curled over the table, hands clutching her stomach as she laughs so hard it becomes silent – the best kind of laugh, and it triggers mine.
But before I realize it, my chuckles die in my throat, and I find myself staring at her.
At the dimple popping by her mouth. At her bright smile and the stars twinkling in her eyes.
At the sheer joy apparent in her face. I commit the sight to memory, unsure of what I’m going to do with it, but Alara smiling is not an image I can simply let go of.
“What’s the plan for this afternoon?” I ask, once she’s calmed down. I’m leaning back in my chair, spinning a half-full bottle of water between my hands. I don’t want to go to work.
Alara checks the time on her phone. She sighs, and I wonder if she also wishes time could go slower so that we don’t have to go out there. I like her company. She’s easy to talk to, easy to tease, but she’s quick to snap back at me. “I actually have to work in the office today.”
“Yeah? Why?”
“I manage the store’s social media, so I have to focus on this week’s content.”
I nod. “Okay, that’s really cool.”
She shrugs, then leans her chin in the palm of her hand. “You look disappointed. Did you want me to sit at the front desk so that you can stare at me instead of doing your tasks?”
God, she pisses me off with her witty banter and teasing smile. She’d make things so much easier if she truly hated me.
Crossing my arms over my chest, I smirk. “What can I say, Alara? You’re pretty to look at.”
That thing I said about drawing a line between me and my best friend’s sister? It’s already shot to pieces. But I quickly recover by not commenting on the way she furiously blushes.
Alara shakes her head, like she’s exasperated. “Okay, superstar. Listen, I have an idea I’d like to run by you.”
I arch a brow in curiosity, which gives her the go to continue.
“What if you helped me with the social media content?”
“How?”
“Well, you’re quite popular—”
I grin. “That I am.”
“And you’re presumptuous and cocky” – she throws a wrapper at me that I dodge as I chuckle – “but you could, for example, wear some gear and then I’d promote the new arrivals like that. We could find some other way to boost our accounts too.”
That’s tempting. She’s been helping me, so I owe her that, don’t I?
The excitement lighting up her face takes my breath away. All the coherent thoughts forming in my mind suddenly vanish, and I almost find myself agreeing.
But I want to annoy her for a while, so I shake my head. “Can I think about it? I don’t really like cameras and all.”
She scoffs. “Says the guy who signed several five-figure deals to feature in ads and magazines.”
“Did your research on me?”
“Had to prepare myself to get used to your theatrics.”
A laugh spills out of me. “I’ll think about it.”
Standing up, she dumps our empty wrappers in the trash can before collecting her belongings. Her smile feels like a warm blanket wrapping itself around me. “You know where to find me when you change your mind.”
Then, she exits the room, and I realize I’ve been smiling for the past ten minutes. I realize I haven’t felt this genuinely carefree in forever. I realize that nothing hurts anymore, until her absence washes over me like an icy breeze.