Chapter 25
HANNAH
If I had bet my entire life savings that Noah was still going to be late after I gave him a five-minute warning, I could’ve quit my job and hid out in a cabin deep in the woods for the rest of my life.
Odds were definitely in my favor today.
At the top of the hill, I stand at the beginning of the halfpipe, counting down the minutes for him to join me, and sure as shit, the snail is late.
Finding this a complete waste of my time, I’m just about to leave, when Noah startles me, clearing his throat.
“What the hell!” I yelp, almost dropping my snowboard.
Noah has a sour look on his face. “I’ve been standing here for five minutes wondering when you were going to look up from whatever the hell you were doing.”
“I was counting, and you were almost late…again.”
He simply strolls over to where I stand, looking down at me like a little kid. “Does it matter as long as I show up to your stupid lessons? I’m perfectly capable of getting back out there on my own.”
I smirk. “All right, smart ass, prove it. Prove to your coach that you don’t need a push, and I’ll gladly leave you alone.”
His cocky smile is shining bright today as he puts his goggles over his eyes and makes his way over to the starting line.
Well, this is going to be a lot easier than I thought. Maybe today will be the only day dealing with the bastard.
Noah sets himself up, rolling his shoulders before beginning his run, gracefully gliding like he’s on air. His form is quite impressive as he performs his first move, the Alley-Oop.
Waiting for the landing, I notice a shake in his form, botching the move altogether, landing face-first in the snow. I take my snowboard, strap myself in quickly, and coast down, reaching him as he wipes snow off his goggles.
“That was smooth,” I comment.
He rips off his goggles and tosses them aside. “I had it.”
I can’t lie when I say I’m enjoying this side of Noah, watching his feathers become ruffled.
“Really? Judging by your landing, I say otherwise.” I smile big, not even fighting my sarcasm.
He wipes his nose with the back of his hand, removing the bindings from his boots. “You do it, then, if it’s so easy.”
An Alley-Oop I haven’t performed since my high school days? Maybe it will get his ass into gear. “Sure, piece of cake.”
He rolls his eyes and removes himself from the halfpipe, leading the way back to the top. Following with a little extra pep in my step, I set myself up, making sure my bindings were secure and my goggles were on correctly to prevent them from flying off my face.
“Alley-Oop?”
“Yes, Red.”
I giggle, finding his annoyance a joy to experience.
“You’re stalling,” he mutters behind me.
I flip him off and say, “And my name’s not Red, it’s Hannah.”
Ignoring whatever he’s trying to yell at me as I start, I focus on gaining the right amount of speed, keeping focus on the lip of the pipe. I need to make sure my shoulders are turning uphill; otherwise, I’m going down and breaking a bone or two.
The motion is seamless, like riding a bike, the twist completing just before I hit the ground, my hands releasing from the board. Wind blows across my face from the acceleration, then I hit the ground in a flawless finish.
A rush of excitement runs through my body, feeling proud of myself for performing a move I haven’t done in a few years.
Rolling with the high of my performance, Noah comes down on his board, shaking his head. “Your twist was too late.”
I tear off my goggles. “Excuse me? That was perfect.”
He moves his goggles down to hang around his neck. “No, it wasn’t. Your turn was slow. Granted, your landing was good, but your turn needs work.”
“I’m not arguing with a grown man who most likely uses a two-in-one shampoo,” I snipe.
“And I’m not arguing with a grown woman who probably doesn’t know what a dipstick is. Your twist was too late.”
“Says the one who can’t complete it!”
“I can!”
“THEN DO IT AGAIN!” My voice echoes off the mountain; I might’ve possibly woken every guest.
I try to calm myself down, pulling back the Velcro on my bindings, ignoring his judgmental stare, except I peek and find him already walking back up the hill.
Shit. Grabbing my snowboard in haste, I move aside, trying to reach the top before he starts. I barely make it when he sets off, mimicking the exact movement I just showcased, but his results aren’t successful, once again landing face-first in the snow.
I barely move, watching him toss his goggles across the halfpipe, shouting, smacking the snow with his gloved hands. It takes me a minute to register the sinking feeling in my chest, the realization of what’s happening right in front of me, to Noah himself.
There’s only one other reason he can’t do the Alley-Oop, and something tells me his team already knows why.