Rush
rush
. . .
T he powdered snow flies in front of me and ends up coating my goggles. People around me cuss. I ignore them. I don’t understand how people can complain about the snow spray while on the mountain. If they don’t like it, why in the hell are they here? I turn and face the hill and spot my best friend, Boomer, coming toward me. When he’s within a few feet, he does the same thing. I raise my hand in a high-five. “You just wasted that dude.”
Boomer lifts his goggles. “Did you see the bowling pins? Who the hell stops on the slope? That shit is dangerous.”
“It’s vacation,” I point out. “Lots of noobs out there right now.”
“Yeah, well, they need to stick to the bunny hill or some shit. Leave the real stuff to the professionals.”
Boomer’s angry. I get it. It’s hard when you’re a professional and people who aren’t as good as you get in your way. Their lack of knowledge on the slopes could cause an accident, and the last thing either of us needs is to get injured. We have goals, and those goals include five rings, our flag flying, and our national anthem playing when we win gold. Thankfully, we don’t compete in the same disciplines because I’d hate to go against my best friend.
“Come on, man,” I say as I pat his back. “Let’s grab some lunch.” I raise my googles and reach down to release my bindings. Boomer and I carry our boards toward the lodge, and once we’re inside, we shuck off our jackets. The lodge is pretty warm, and we don’t want to overheat. We’re taken to a table near the large hearth and told our server will be with us shortly.
“Rush, look.” He nods toward the table next to us, and thankfully I’m sitting at the perfect angle to follow his gaze.
Her eyes meet mine, she smiles, and it’s like I’m soaring through the air, free-falling without a care in the world. I can’t take my eyes off the girl, even when her friend leans in and says something. We continue to look at each other, and I do my best to memorize what I can. All I can see of her hair is what hangs down her back. She has it in a braid—typical skiing fashion—and she wears a tuque that matches the jacket hanging on her chair behind her. I tilt my head, and in response, she bites her lower lip, looks down, and then back at me. Shit.
“Rush?”
I can hear Boomer, but his voice is fuzzy like he’s underwater.
My chair jostles, and I glance at my friend. “What?”
He hands me a napkin. “Wipe your drool.”
My eyes go to the dark cloth in front of me and then back to Boomer’s. “What are you talking about?”
Boomer laughs and nods toward the table. “You’re staring like a kid at the ski swap.”
“Am not,” I say but look back at the table. She’s still looking, but so is the guy at her table. I frown and pick up the menu.
“Do you know who that is?”
I shake my head. “No, why should I?”
Boomer leans closer. “If I’m not mistaken, that’s Eden Davis, that surfer girl I follow on Instagram.”
I give Boomer a look, letting him know I have no idea who he’s talking about. He rolls his eyes and pulls his phone out and presses a bunch of buttons, and then shows me his phone. I watch the video playing and am wholly impressed by what I see.
“There’s no way they’re the same person.”
“Totally same. I’m telling you, that is Eden Davis, and she’s like legit legit when it comes to surfing.” Boomer is so excited that I can’t help but laugh. I hold my menu up and look at this Eden again and find not only her but her friend staring. The girl next to her is cute as well but looks younger. I’m thankful they can’t see me smiling because then Eden may figure out that I’m attracted to her.
The waiter comes, and we place our order. I do everything to avoid looking at the table across from ours. The paper from my straw is now in tiny little pieces, and I have turned Boomer’s into a snake. I’ve folded and refolded my napkin, trying to turn it into a boat or sailor hat, but to no avail. I’m interested in what’s happening at the other table, curious to know what they’re talking about, and I want to ask her if she is this Eden person that Boomer seems obsessed with. Yet, I can’t or won’t. I’m not the type of guy who is forward with girls, at least not since winning the Snowboarding World Championship in the half-pipe. Since then, the female population finds me. If it’s not on the internet, it’s at school. Right now, the only place I feel safe is on the mountain.
Our food arrives, and it’s a welcome distraction from the tension in the air. Every so often, I can’t help but look at the other table, hoping she’s still sitting there and also wishing they’d leave. Boomer clears his throat, and I glance at him. He’s holding his phone up for me to see. “What?”
“She just posted that she’s here. It’s definitely her.”
“You’re obsessed,” I tell him.
His mouth drops open, and he says, “Yeah.”
“Why?”
He shrugs. “I guess it’s the water aspect. She shreds those waves. And this one time, she posted a video of a shark behind her. It’s fucking crazy.”
“All I hear coming out of your mouth is how snow is safer.”
Boomer laughs. “For us, yes.”
“Maybe she’ll teach you to surf.”
“It’s not me she’s interested in.”
With zero hesitation, I glance toward the other table, and sure as shit, she’s watching me. Maybe she watched the championship and is trying to figure out if I’m the same guy who won. She’s not on her phone, at least not at the moment, unlike Boomer, who hasn’t put his down.
“You should talk to her.”
My head moves side to side, slowly. “I’m not interested.”
“Yes, you are. And I’m not saying you need to hook up and declare your love for one another. Just talk. She seems like a kick-ass chick, and honestly, you could use some fun in your life.”
“I have to train. Unfortunately, the powers that be don’t care if I won Worlds. I still have to try out for the Olympic team.”
“So does she, in a sense. According to her website, she’s heading to Australia soon for some big surfing competition, and everything I look up says she’s going to win.”
“How come surfing isn’t an Olympic sport?”
Boomer shrugs. “Why are you asking me?”
I go back to my food and try to forget my surroundings. Stowe is my preferred mountain when I want to remain anonymous, and it’s the only place that I purposely stay away from the half-pipe. As much as I love flipping in the air, the pipe here is a free for all, and there are too many people trying their own tricks. It’s a recipe for disaster. Besides, if someone knew I was there, they’d all flock to that side of the mountain, and I wouldn’t get any time on my board.
The three people across from us finally stand, grab their jackets and head out the door. Eden leads, and our eyes lock on each other’s. It’s then that I see her stunning blue eyes that look just like the ocean. She smiles, does the head tilt thing again, and it’s like all is right in my world. It’s like I can see for miles and miles, and there isn’t anything in my way. My heart pounds, and I watch her walk out of the restaurant. When I turn back around, Boomer is laughing.
“Shut up.”
His eyes move to space in front of my plate. A piece of paper sits there, and I reach for it. Inside, she’s written her name and phone number.
“What’s her name?” Boomer asks. I feel like I should make up something to get him off his high horse, but her name falls from my lips before I can stop them.
“Eden Davis.”
“I knew it,” he says as he pumps his arms in the air. “I told you.”
I nod and study the paper. It’s like I’m trying to memorize a number I’ll never use, but I can’t take my focus off her handwriting. It’s small and dainty, and she connects her letters in a way I’ve never seen. It’s different from what mine or my sister’s looks like.
“She’s not from here,” I state.
“No, she lives in California,” Boomer says.
“No, what I mean is, she writes like she’s from another country.” I show him the piece of paper, and he nods. “I’m trying to place who writes like this. I’ve seen it before, on the circuit.”
“Why are you deciphering her handwriting?”
I shrug. “I’m just taken aback by it, I guess.”
“Go talk to her.”
“No,” I say to him. “First of all, I wouldn’t know what to say. I’m not some charmer or some guy who is quick on his feet; and second, I’m on school break, and I’m assuming she is as well. Just by what you’ve said shows me that neither of us has time.”
“For what, a friendship? A relationship?” Boomer tosses his napkin onto the table. “You know you can be friends with someone and not be in a relationship. From what I see, you have a connection, and that is something you should explore, and you’re both busy, so at best, you have someone to chat with when you’re in your bunk at night. It’s not a crime to get to know someone of the opposite sex. Your coach isn’t going to make you run laps because you’re talking to a girl.”
“My dad will.”
Boomer waves my statement away. “Rush, you’re on vacation. Live a little. Your dad is thousands of miles away. He can’t stop you from chatting with someone, especially someone like Eden Davis. She’s a knockout and seems to have eyes for you.”
He pushes his chair out and stands. “I’ll meet you outside.” Boomer leaves me there, still staring at the paper with her name and number on it. I slip it into the side pocket of my snow pants and make sure I’ve secured the button. While I don’t plan to call her, I don’t want to throw her number away.
When I get outside, I find Boomer chatting with the trio. He looks over his shoulder at me and has the biggest shit-eating grin I’ve ever seen on his face—bigger than when he won Worlds in slopestyle.
I have two choices. Grab my board and head toward the lifts, or go over there and introduce myself. The first is obvious. Snowboarding makes me happy. The second option makes my palms sweat and my knees weak.
“Shit,” I mutter as I make my way toward the group. Again, as soon as my eyes meet Eden’s, my entire body feels like it’s vibrating, the same way it feels when I’m about to drop into the half-pipe and go for the win.
“Hey, man,” Boomer says as he puts his arm around me. “This is Rush Fennimore, and this is Eden Davis, Paige Westbury, and Mack Ashton.”
“Nice to meet you.” We shake hands, but either me or Eden make sure we’re the last ones to do so. The moment her hand is in mine, I feel a zap of energy and enlightenment. I hold her hand longer than customary and watch her, looking to see if she feels the same spark between us. I’m probably imagining all of this.