Chapter 18 Connor
Connor
There are equal amounts of joy and terror coursing through my veins right now; a desire to celebrate and a desire to throw up.
The visceral reaction to being on this board is hard to overcome, but just when I’m about to say ‘fuck it’ and unclip, Vox brings his board to a stop right in front of mine.
My body responds instantly as his features come into view.
I calm myself by counting the faint freckles on his cheeks and across the bridge of his nose.
Using both gloved hands, he cups my face.
“Everything is going to be fine. I’ll be right behind you the whol—”
“No!” I yell. The volume is unnecessary since he’s so close. Lowering my voice, I practically beg, “Stay in front of me. You have to stay in front of me. I need to be able to see where you are the entire time.”
“Okay,” he says, holding his hands up. “Okay, relax. I’m not going to ruin this for you. I’ll make sure I stay in your line of sight, okay?”
My teeth are chattering, but I’m not cold. Still, I stay unmoving, not giving him a response.
“How about we take it twenty feet at a time?” he suggests. “Nice, wide, slow turns. I’ll go first, then you board down to me.”
Finally, I nod.
That’s skiing and snowboarding one-oh-one: break the big hill down into manageable, bite-sized chunks.
Twenty feet at a time.
“Just focus on me, okay?” Vox instructs.
I nod again and watch as he effortlessly scoots his board forward until he tips over the edge. My heart is pounding as he travels a short distance before digging his back edge into the snow, coming to a complete stop.
I close my eyes now that it’s my turn.
Fuck. I can’t do this.
“You can do this,” Vox says out loud, not knowing he’s combating my inner monologue.
“I’ve watched you win the X Games, the FIS World Cup, the Burton Classic, and an Olympic gold medal, bab—uh, Connor.
And although I recognize that this bunny hill is probably the scariest challenge you’ve faced in your career, I know you can claim this victory, too. ”
As I stand there, desperately trying to get my shit together, three things occur to me: one, Vox damn near called me baby; two, I really fucking liked it; and three, he’s talking about my snowboarding career as if I still have one. He’ll never know how much that last one means to me.
Thinking about those three things alone, I hop my board forward to drop in. The slope on this hill is hardly big enough to produce any kind of speed—which is the point of a bunny hill—but it feels like I’m flying as I move toward him.
The smile on his face as I come to a stop next to him is the most genuine I’ve seen yet.
Grabbing my shoulders, he gives me a little shake. “That’s it, man! You did it! You good to go another twenty feet?”
I nod eagerly, desperate to feel the snow under my board again.
And so it goes until we reach the bottom of the hill.
Vox unstraps from his board, racing over to me and enveloping me in a hug. I’m a lot thicker than he is, but he manages to get his arms all the way around me and hoist me straight into the air, board and all.
“Hell, yeah, Connor! How did that feel?” he asks, setting me back down.
I let out a nervous laugh because I’m trying to process that ride as well as the feeling of being in his arms.
“It felt…like I was flying, floating, and peering through a window, finding a piece of myself I’d lost. It felt like I was right where I was supposed to be.”
I’m not even sure my words make any sense, but Vox is staring at me like he understands every emotion behind the confusing declaration.
“Fuck, I really want to kiss you,” he says.
Riding the high of my first run back on a board, I take a deep breath. “Maybe just one more wouldn’t hurt. You know, to celebrate?”
“You’re back to swerving in my lane, Connor,” Vox says with a grin. “But for the record, I like it when you’re here.”
He grabs the back of my neck and hauls my mouth to his. I’m thankful neither of us is currently wearing helmets, so my face can actually reach his.
Groaning against my mouth, he mumbles, “You taste like victory,” before pulling away all too soon.
I reach for him, intoxicated by his talented tongue, and he clucks at me, diving out of reach.
“Uh-uh. You said one kiss.”
It appears Vox has far more control than anyone’s given him credit for.
I roll my eyes. “You’re choosing now to follow my rules? Fucking hell, Vox.”
Laughing, he takes off for the magic carpet again.
“Tell you what, I’ll kiss you after every successful run,” Vox wagers.
This is a terrible idea. I’m supposed to be cutting this thing between us off. Shutting it down. Ending it for good.
“Deal,” I say, making my way over to the electronic walkway and preparing for my next kiss…I mean run.
The team looks good. They’re actually getting along like a team—including Vox—and he and I have found a rhythm.
He’s still arrogant as fuck and only listens to half of what I say, but I’ve grown to like it.
Plus, he does a pretty decent job of reading me, which means he knows when he can get away with a comment here or there and when he needs to pay attention.
We’ve managed to find time in his training schedule to hit a few of the easy trails together. Vox used his golden boy reputation to request closure on them just for me, and I can’t wait to tell Sam that I was finally able to get back on a board.
The gripping fear I once felt when strapping in has turned into excited anticipation. Of course, I have a long way to go yet before I’ll be able to ride with anyone other than Vox on terrain rated higher than easy, but it’s a start I’d never thought I’d achieve.
And it came just in the nick of time.
As practice becomes more involved, I’m not sure how much longer I can avoid getting on a board in front of the others. Both Fuller and Montoya have been instructing in the field since the start.
After practice today, Vox boards over to me, and based on the look on his face, I already don’t like what he’s going to say. Spraying me with snow, he leans forward to unclip and motions me toward him for a private word.
“Come down the mountain with me.”
“Vox, no. I can’t risk freaking out in front of everyone here.”
“You’ve already done this run like five times,” he points out.
“With no one else on it!” I remind him.
“Everyone on the team is wrapping up and going in. It’s a light day since most of them just got back from Utah. No one will even know we’re still out here.”
“Except the rest of the resort guests hauling ass down this slope,” I say, raising my hand and gesturing at the others on the mountain.
Grey must misinterpret our exchange as a heated argument because he steps over to where we’re standing.
“Everything okay over here?” he asks gruffly. “Vox, you aren’t giving Coach Lang a hard time, are you?”
Before Vox can answer, I do it for him.
“No, Grey, he’s fine. We’re just bickering over semantics,” I lie.
Grey looks back and forth between Vox and me, and I don’t love the look of curiosity on his features. Like he knows I’m lying and wants to know why.
“Well, ask me. Maybe I can help.”
Shit. My mind goes blank.
“I want to ride a different board, and Con—I mean Coach Lang—told me it’s too close to the event to switch it up now,” Vox interjects quickly.
Grey turns his attention to Vox.
“What do you want to ride? I’m sure we have it in stock and can get it here in time,” he says proudly.
Without batting an eye, Vox says, “I want to ride Vertigo.”
Grey cuts his eyes to me like he thinks this is my fault before sliding them back to Vox. “I thought we were past this. You had your turn with Vertigo. You ride Patterson now.”
“But what if I ride better on a Vertigo board?” Vox argues, not dropping it. “I’ve been begging your guys to take away that stupid hybrid camber forever, and they refuse.”
“It provides necessary control,” Grey says through gritted teeth, making me wish Vox wouldn’t push so hard.
But then…he wouldn’t be Vox.
“Control comes from the rider, not the board. I need a board that will give the control over to me.”
“Finish practice. We’ll talk about this later.” Looking at me, Grey says, “So will you and I.”
“Yes, sir,” I reply. As soon as he’s out of earshot, I turn on Vox. “Why the fuck did you have to say that?”
Vox shrugs like it’s no big deal.
“Because it’s true. I owe Grey a lot, but he can be a stubborn jackass sometimes,” Vox says, rocking on his board. “Your board is fucking insane, and it’s the one I want.”
“Wait…you want to race with my Vertigo board?”
“That’s what I said, isn’t it?”
“No, smartass. You said you wanted to ride a Vertigo board, not my Vertigo board. And now Grey thinks I put you up to it.”
As we get closer to the competition, every sports broadcaster will want face time with Vox.
He’s the reigning champion as well as the expected winner this year.
The first thing they’ll ask him is what board he’s riding.
Someone will make the connection even if he doesn’t say my name, and I’m not sure either of us is ready for that.
Deciding I need to pump the brakes on this decision, I tell him, “Let’s table this conversation for another day.”
“Fine. But it won’t change what I want.”
“Fine,” I parrot. “But it doesn’t mean I have to grant you access.”
I’m talking about my board, but his eyes darken as he leans in.
“What if I promise to make it worth your while?”
It’s the first sexual comment either of us has made since that day on the bunny slope, and it catches me a little off guard. Dumb, I know. But today is a new day, and I can’t keep allowing this to happen between us. So, I do what I should have done that day on the bunny hill.
“Vox, I fucked up. I crossed lines and blurred the boundaries. We’re making progress, and with me finally able to get on a board again, I think I can really help you. Can we please just put the rest behind us?”
His jaw clenches like he doesn’t like what I’m saying.
Neither do I, but it has to be said. Hell, it has to be done.
“Sure,” he says in a clipped tone. “Consider it all behind us. Grab your board. We have a ride to take.”
If I survive this man, it’ll be a miracle.