Chapter 31 #2
So much for us not getting in the way of my training. All I see when I carve down the mountain is his ass, which works to slow me down because I could follow this view all day, but I pay absolutely no attention to where his board is.
The what the fuck look on his face as he looks back up the mountain at both sets of tracks almost makes me laugh until he says, “The longer it takes you to get the hang of this, the longer it’ll be before I’m demanding entry into your ass again.”
I snap to attention, ready to ace this fucking test on the next run.
This time, when we drop in, Connor cranks the speed up a little, which is nice, but it also makes it harder to follow him exactly.
I still don’t understand what it is I’m supposed to be achieving with this, but it’s kind of fun…
like that time I went to the beach with my grandma, and as we walked in the sand, I tried to keep my footprints inside of hers.
I’m still reminiscing when I realize, almost too late, that Connor has stopped in front of me, and I spray snow on him with my abrupt halt.
“Sorry about that.”
I expect some kind of lecture about having my head in the clouds, but Connor stays in coach-mode, pointing up the slope at our tracks.
“You see how each of your lines is either shorter or longer than mine? On the short ones, you anticipated, but guessed incorrectly and started the turn before I did. On the longer ones, I got the jump on you and made the turn before you saw it coming.”
I huff, “What does it matter? It’s not like anyone’s actually going to be able to get in front of me, anyway.”
“That confidence will get you killed,” Connor says.
“That confidence is why I win,” I fire back.
“Eventually, your ego is going to write a check your ass can’t cash.”
“My ass can cash any check,” I say, leaning in. “You should know that after last night.”
“We’re riding again,” he says, not taking the bait. “This time, I want you to watch my hips. Study my movements. Anticipate my pattern. Predict what comes next based on the direction I’m leaning and where my weight is on the board. I’ll go slower, but pay attention to my lines.”
All I do is study Connor’s lines. On his hips, on his abs, the lines in his deltoids, his back.
As he takes off, I follow closely behind him.
His quiet confidence is alluring. Whereas I dominate my way down the mountain, taking from it, forcing it to give me what I want, Connor does it in a way that makes it feel like the mountain gives itself to him, like they’re working together, coaxing more from each other.
Maybe he’s on to something after all.
I glide behind him, not watching his board at all.
About halfway down the mountain, I’m starting to pick up on the slight shifts and subtle changes in his stance he was talking about, and I begin to mirror them in time with him.
It’s exhilarating learning his exact style.
It’s as if he’s teaching me to write or play the piano, and his hands are controlling mine, making the letters and hitting the notes.
This time, as we look back up the mountain, there is only one track in the space where both our boards traveled.
“Good job, hotshot. That’s how aware of your surroundings I want you to be when you board with others,” Connor praises, slapping me on the back.
Once we’re back at the top of the slope, I’m really starting to get into this when Connor says, “On this run, I’m going to catch up and intentionally try to block you. You have to either beat me or get around me…safely.”
Now we’re talking. This is going to be so much fun.
“If you give me a head start, this race is over before it even begins,” I warn, confident there is no way he could catch up, even if he is Connor Lang.
“Why don’t you let me worry about that? I just want you to focus on finding a way around me.”
I huff a laugh. “Look who’s cocky now.”
“Are you ready?” Connor asks, not even cracking a smile. Shit. He’s serious.
Trying like all hell to refocus my attention on the slope in front of me and the task given to me, and not on the way he looks in his boarding gear with his goggles on, owning that Vertigo board like he’s the snowboarding legend he was five years ago, I nod.
“Ready.”
Conner up-nods me, telling me to go as he says, “See you soon, sweetheart.”
Dick.
I pump my legs, doing my best to gain speed early. This slope isn’t closed to the public, so I can’t just ride the fall line because skiers and boarders are crossing it as they zigzag back and forth in their controlled descents.
I ride the slope on the far left by the tree line because most people tend to stay in the middle and leave the steep sides clear for fear of hitting the trees.
I’ve got my eyes in front of me, but keep risking glances to my right, waiting for the moment I catch Connor in my peripheral vision, but he isn’t—
“What the fuck!”
Connor catapults out of the trees to my left, and he’s fucking flying. I’ve never seen him board this fast. Hell, I’m not even sure how someone boards that fast.
Really dialing in, I haul ass after him. Right as I’m about to pass him, he cuts in front of me, pushing me back toward the eastern boundary.
Fucker.
I’m riding my edge as hard as I can to give me the least amount of surface area in contact with the snow as possible in an effort to gain speed. Is it safe?
Not by a long shot.
But Connor isn’t looking behind him.
I’m equal parts furious and awestruck when he beats me to the bottom.
“Again,” I snarl, not stopping to congratulate him, but riding all the way to my spot in the lift line before looking at him. “Shut the fuck up,” I say as he comes to a stop next to me. “I’m going to decimate you this time.”
It’s clear Connor’s trying not to laugh as he holds his hands up. “I didn’t say anything.”
“That stupid smirk you’re wearing says everything for you.” Maybe I should ease up a bit, but I fucking hate to lose. I don’t really know how to be a good sport because I’ve never come in anything but first place.
Until now.
“You didn’t seem to mind this ‘stupid smirk’ last night,” Connor says, crowding my space, clearly jubilant in his victory.
“That’s because your cock was in my ass…therefore, I was winning,” I reply.
“Duly noted. And I agree. It’s always better when we both win.”
This time, I don’t waste the head start he gives me. I drop in on the fall line, low and fast. I move out of it only when absolutely necessary and call out to several others that I’m passing them, but I’m already next to them by the time I get the words out.
I’m also anticipating Connor from the trees and the open slope this time.
It’s not until I hear, “Fuck, you make me hard,” that I realize he’s on my six. Connor is directly behind me and gaining speed.
How in the fuck?
Jesus Christ. It’s like he’s wearing a goddamn jetpack. Connor swings out around me and is riding a line parallel to mine until I have to move out of the way for a dad teaching his kid to ski.
When I get back in the fall line, Connor is ahead of me.
I hear his voice in my head. Watch my hips. Anticipate my movements. I actually let him gain on me just a little more, so I can actually see his hips. The movement is slight, but when he zigs to the right, I zag to the left and cut back to the middle before he does, getting ahead of him this time.
Of course, he knows that move himself since he taught it to me, and it’s a fight to the finish line the whole way down the mountain.
By the time we get to the bottom, we’re both panting with our hands on our knees off to the side of the main slope. I push my goggles up onto my helmet and watch Connor do the same. It was too close to call, but I’m pretty sure that if I finished first, it’s because he allowed it.
Connor offers me a fist bump and a smile. “Now that’s how you race.”