Chapter 11 Ryder #2
I’m vaguely aware of Frosty muttering about me trying to squash him to death as I stare up at the clear blue sky, praying for patience, which is fucking ironic since I don’t pray.
When I’m sure I won’t actually try to squash him, I unhook my back foot and stand up.
Coming around in front of him I offer my hand to try again, this time bracing a foot on his board so I can help push it to the ground as he stands.
It's awkward as fuck, but I finally manage to get him upright. When he’s settled on two feet, he beams at me as if the simple act of standing wasn’t just the biggest shitshow ever, and I lock my jaw to keep from snapping at him while I strap back in and offer both my hands.
He stares down at them, brows drawn. “I saw you do this with Max, but it won’t work with me.”
“Why?”
“We both ride with our right foot in front. I can’t mirror you if we ride the same direction.”
I’m actually impressed he came to that conclusion without any help from me, not only because he’s right but because it means he’s already clocked which is my dominant leg.
Admitting that will only make him more insufferable though, and this day is undoubtedly going to be long enough already.
Instead, I twist so my left leg is pointed forward and ride the board in an elongated arc, circling around until I’m back facing him with my arms outstretched. “I can ride with either foot forward.”
“Showoff,” he mumbles under his breath as he takes my hands.
Now that our dynamic is back to normal—him finding fault with pretty much everything I say or do—I’m in a better headspace. “Shift your weight forward. Don’t lean, just carry your weight on your front leg.”
“How do I do that without leaning?”
“Pretend like you’re standing on one leg.”
“Both legs are literally strapped to a board. It's impossible to only stand on one of them.” He speaks through gritted teeth with both eyes shut.
“I didn’t say to stand on one leg, I said pretend like you’re standing on one. The front one, so your weight will guide you in the direction you want to go.”
“Pretend I’m not five and logically know I can’t stand on one leg if they’re both attached to the board.”
I inhale as deeply as possible and count to three, so I don’t just aim him down the mountain and shove. “Imagine your back leg is hovering off the ground. You can’t lift it, obviously, but you can hold your weight off center just enough that you could lift your back foot up an inch.”
I can actually feel the eye roll that’s hidden by his goggles, but at least Hayden does what I ask, and we start to drift forward. “Oh my gosh, we’re moving. That’s it? That didn’t seem so hard.”
“Calm down, Frosty, this is just gravity. The hard part is turning.”
“How do we do that?” His voice has a tinge of anxiety as we reach a slight decline and start to pick up speed.
“Without shifting your weight forward or back, try to lift your toes. Don’t rock back on your heels, just put more pressure on them than your toes.” I do the opposite, “lifting” my heels, which steers us to Hayden’s right, bringing us to a stop with his toes pointing down the mountain.
“That wasn’t so bad either.”
“That’s because leaning on your heels is a natural braking motion.
Now, let's try turning in the other direction. Shift your weight forward so we start moving, and this time try to lift your heels.” I help us by angling downhill, then lean on my heels to force us to turn in the opposite direction.
The action causes us to point straight down the mountain, just for a fraction of a second, but—predictably—Hayden starts to physically lean away from the slope, putting his weight on his back leg, which makes us pick up speed.
I have to really dig my heels in to complete the turn.
When we come to a stop with his toes pointing up the mountain, I drop his hands. “Still easy?” I know it wasn’t, but I’m gonna make him say it.
“Not as easy as the first turn.” He swivels his head, tracking the path we made through the snow. “It felt like it took longer to come around.”
Perceptive. I was expecting him to bitch instead of analyze, and I damn sure didn’t expect him to come to the right conclusion.
“It did take a little longer. That’s because you put your weight on your back leg, but it’s your front leg that does the steering, remember?”
He holds his hands out with a determined nod. “Yep. Let’s go again.”
We make our way downhill like that, facing each other, so I can take over if he runs into trouble. He’s a little wobbly—having both feet strapped onto a board takes some getting used to—though he never fully loses his balance, his concentration never wavering.
I don’t know why I expected anything less—Frosty is nothing if not serious—but the fact he diligently follows each and every pointer I give has me a little off balance.
Metaphorically, of course. I’m too stable on a board to get physically tripped up over someone’s unexpected attitude, but I definitely went into this looking forward to giving him a hard time, and it’s hard to be the asshole when he’s making a sincere effort.
When it comes to riding, I respect hard work, so if Frosty is genuinely willing to learn, I can be genuinely willing to teach him.
Once we reach the bottom, Hayden mimics me as I unstrap my back foot and push toward the chair to take another run. He’s less graceful of course, pushing forward in small increments rather than coasting along, but at least he didn’t try to carry the board this time around.
“Is this how you learned? Someone held your hand and guided you through the motions?” He breaks the silence on the chair.
I shake my head back and forth. “This isn’t exactly a standard way of teaching, it just seems to work well when you’re one on one. And it shortens the learning curve if you understand what it feels like to turn before doing it on your own.”
“Do you teach a lot of people?”
“Not anymore.” I can tell he’s waiting for me to elaborate, but I don’t want to talk about it because it reminds me of how Chase liked working as an instructor.
“How long have you been riding?” He tries again, and I gnaw on my lip to bite back a heavy sigh.
I fucking hate small talk. I’ve never been a fan, though I hate it even more now that it always has an undertone to it.
Most of the time that’s pity or concern—people aren’t as subtle as they think when they try to get me to open up about Chase—and literally every conversation invokes him or his memory despite the fact his name is rarely mentioned.
Frosty’s attempt to avoid the silence is no different, he just doesn’t realize it since he doesn’t know me.
And since he doesn’t intend for his questions to have an ulterior meaning, I figure I should answer.
“Since I was three.”
His lips morph into a frustrated line, but hey, I answered, and without the nickname to boot.
Bonus, my failure to elaborate means those lips hold that little pout, and they look even fuller and pinker when he pushes them together.
I may hate what comes out of them most of the time, but the guy’s got nice lips.
“So.” Hayden turns his head forward, toward the approaching exit. “Is it too late to point out I still have no idea how to get off this thing.”
“At the top let the board drag along the ground while you get your back foot into position, braced in front of the rear binding. When our chair is at the front, right at the top of the ramp, push to standing and let gravity do the rest.”
“Okay.” A tooth nibbles on his bottom lip as he gets ready, and it's so fucking distracting I almost forget to get off the chair. When I finally remember to move, I get the crazy idea to help him by putting my hands on his hips and guiding him down.
“Don’t touch my ass.” He swipes his arm behind him to move mine out of the way.
“I’m not.” I yank my arms back and accelerate down the ramp with ease, muscle memory kicking in while my brain was momentarily offline, and spin around to watch him dismount.
Despite following my instructions, he loses his balance since he’s flailing his arms while he’s not strapped in—saw that coming—and ends up in a heap on the ground.
I don’t even try to hide the knowing smirk on my face. See if I offer to help you again...
Cheeks pink with embarrassment—or maybe cold—Frosty averts his eyes as he tries to right himself, and whether because I’m stung by the way he waved me off or my subconscious realizes it’s a bad idea to intervene, he does so without any help from me.
It’s not until he’s finally vertical, breathing heavily from the effort, I remember I’m not supposed to be acting like a dick.
“Don’t worry, Frosty. You can’t claim to ride if you haven’t fallen off the chair at least once.”
The resulting scowl tells me he didn’t take that the way it was intended.
“I’m serious, we’ve all done it before,” I try again. “You okay?"
“I think so.” He dusts some lingering snow off his knees. “This thing is a whole lot easier to balance on when you’re attached to it.”
That shouldn’t be true given that your front leg does all the work, but since he’s doing better than expected, I don’t feel like knocking him down a peg. I’m actually starting to get curious about how much he can pick up in a day.
We get set again, face-to-face with our hands joined in front of us, and shift our weight forward enough that we start to slide down the hill. I call out what side of his body he should turn to, toe side or heel side, and he leans forward or back with me to complete the turn.
“It’s sort of like dancing, except colder.” He grins as we glide down the hill.
My nose wrinkles with disgust. “It’s nothing like dancing.”
“Sure, it is. You’re leading and we’re turning, only on a mountain instead of a dance floor.”
I don’t care if he does sort of have a point, you can’t make that connection. It’s just wrong. “Compare this to dancing again and I’ll let go so you have to get down on your own.”
“Fine. Ice skating then. All that’s missing is you throwing me over your shoulder and spinning in really fast circles.”
I can’t see his eyes under the goggles, but the wry grin says he’s trying to bait me, as if I won’t really leave him to fend for himself. If he wasn’t getting the hang of boarding I wouldn’t, but since he is…
“Heel side.” I give him a final tip and drop his hands, drifting away so he has to do the turn on his own. His arms circle comically in the air as he struggles for balance, but a second later he finds it and leans back on his heels, completing the turn and coming to a full stop.
“You ass, I wasn’t ready,” he huffs as I glide toward him.
“Since you didn’t land on your ass, I’d say you were.”
His mouth snaps shut as he takes stock of his surroundings, a proud smile spreading across his face. I almost smile in return, but I don’t want to give him a reason to be any more cocky. Besides, he’s still got a lot to learn.
“Toe side,” I bark when we get going again.
Hayden goes through the motions to make what’s considered the harder turn to learn, but chickens out and shifts his weight to his back leg before he gets all the way around, recovering only when he rocks back on his heels to slow his speed.
I’d have been shocked if he nailed that turn on the first try, but I’d be lying if I said part of me hoped he would.
Hayden’s a quick learner, and I appreciate his determination.
I won’t tell him that, of course. Admitting I have respect for him is a slippery slope that could make him hate me less, and that’s probably not a good idea, especially since I’m kind of enjoying myself right now.
“Don’t say it. I know what I did wrong,” he warns, knowing all too well the joy I’d get out of pointing out his mistake. The joy he thinks I’d get, if I didn’t approve of his effort.
“Need me to help or are you gonna finish yourself?” I come to a stop in front of him, crossing my arms in front of my chest. Okay, I’m taunting him, but only because I think he can actually do it.
Hayden pushes himself up to standing on his own. “I’ve got it.”
It takes the better part of thirty minutes to cover the last quarter of the hill, but by the time we reach the bottom he’s consistently turning to his heel side without help, and he’s nearly completing the toe side turns. I did not see that coming.
Feeling something like pride in my teaching, or maybe guilt since I’m the reason he’ll be sore as hell—despite the padded pants—I offer to carry his board back to the locker room.
He worked hard and deserves a break from my attitude.
A little one. I almost don’t even mind him rambling about much fun he had as we walk, and feel myself fighting a reluctant smile, up until I come face-to-face with Blake.
Shit - I was too distracted by Frosty to notice where I was going.
The almost grin melts off my face as I realize he’s not moving. “What do you want?”
“It’s good to see you on the mountain,” Blake says.
“That’s all you have to say?”
“What else do you want me to say?”
I’m sorry I kept my life a secret. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you when you needed me.
I’m sorry I wasn’t there for Chase. The things I’d been hoping to hear one day rattle around my head like the little silver marble in a pinball machine, yet Blake’s mouth is shut, his eyes laced with a mixture of confusion and concern.
A quick glance at Hayden, whose goggles are on his helmet instead of covering his eyes, and I realize his expression matches Blake’s. Fuck this. Blake should know what I want to hear, and Hayden shouldn’t care since we’ll probably go back to hating each other after this.
“You know what, forget it.” I shake my head and sneer, storming off to the locker room without a backward glance at either of them.