Chapter 50
Ida feels a little guilty as she sits down opposite Gustav. She ought to go home and relieve her mom. She promised to be back by five at the latest, and it’s already quarter to.
But it’s wonderful to sit in the afternoon sun with a glass of foaming lager. They’ve had a fantastic day on the slopes, skiing like crazy people, as if it were the last day of the season.
Her body is exhausted, but her heart is full of joy. She can’t remember the last time she had so much fun.
“Sk?l,” Gustav says, raising his glass to her. “I’m so glad we bumped into each other. It must be fate!”
His smile is infectious. He has taken off his helmet, and his curls hang loose over his shoulders. They are like a halo around his head, shimmering in the sunlight. Gustav’s hair makes most girls sigh enviously; Ida used to laugh and say it was wasted on a guy.
“You’re an amazing skier,” he goes on. “So confident, brilliant technique.”
Ida feels her cheeks flush red. She competed in the slalom as a child, like many others in the area, but stopped in her teens when other interests—like boys and clothes—took over.
She never really had the competitive edge that would have made her willing to sacrifice everything for training, but she still has the technique.
“I guess it’s just muscle memory,” she mumbles into her glass. The unexpected praise warms her heart. She rarely feels . . . cool.
Or openly admired. There is no doubt that Gustav likes her, she can see it in his eyes.
The sun is still warm, and melting snow drips from the gutters. VM6 is no more than a hundred yards away. It has just closed for the day, and the chairs are on their way down from the top station. Ida can see the last of the skiers skimming down Stj?rnbacken, the piste above the restaurant.
The DJ changes the track to “Jump” by Van Halen, the music pumping from the speakers. Ida gets the urge to leap up and dance.
“We should do this again,” Gustav says, winking at her like he did on the chairlift when they met a few hours ago. He takes a swig of his beer, and a little of the foam sticks to the corners of his mouth. It’s kind of cute.
Something within Ida comes to life.
Gustav puts down his glass and reaches out across the table. He takes her hand between his, gently runs his fingertips over her palm, lingering on the sensitive skin in the center.
His touch burns like fire, and a shiver of excitement runs through Ida’s body.
He leans forward until his face is only a couple of inches from hers. His lips are slightly parted, and he doesn’t take his eyes off her.
What the hell is she doing?
Ida yanks her hand away. She picks up her phone to check the time, making it impossible for Gustav to misread the gesture.
“I’m sorry, but I’m afraid I have to go,” she says a little breathlessly.
“I understand.” He looks disappointed, but not annoyed. Maybe curious, as if he’s not prepared to give up so easily.
Quickly Ida gathers her things—her helmet, her ski gloves, the back protector she wears for off-piste runs.
She promised Daniel she would never leave it at home.
Once again her guilty conscience kicks in, and she gets to her feet. “Thanks for today.”
Just as she is about to leave, Gustav raises his hand as if he wants to ask a question.
“By the way.” He gives her his most disarming smile. “Do you still have the same phone number?”
Ida hesitates, she ought to say no. Whatever it was that just happened, it can’t happen again. It’s been an enjoyable but completely innocent day. That’s all. Now she is going home to Alice and her partner.
Nothing happened.
Then she nods.
“I do.”