6. Skye
Itook a deep breath as I looked down the mountain. The crisp, fresh air and incredible snow-covered scenery spread out in front of me made me smile. Although, to be fair, it wasn’t just the air and the view that were filling me with happiness this morning.
My gaze was drawn to Brody, adjusting his goggles as he stood next to me. I’d missed hanging out with him like this. A distance had slowly been growing between us, but I didn’t know what was causing it, and I hadn’t knownhow to fix it.
But maybe whatever had been pulling Brody away from me had resolved itself now. I hoped so, because whenever I thought about losing him, it sent a wave of panic through me. Sometimes I worried I was too attached to him. After all, there were any number of things that could happen in this world to separate people. And if Brody moved away—or if I did—if we both got married and our lives took us in different directions, everything would change. But even then, I hoped that our friendship would remain intact.
Now wasn’t the time to be thinking about that, though. Because today, we were here. The sky was clear, the snow was deep, and Brody was grinning at me.
He gestured down the steep slope in front of us, the start of one of our favorite black diamond runs. “After you.”
“No, you go first. It’s the least I can doafter sleeping on you all night.”
“Okay. But only because I know you want to check out my ass.” He gave me a smirk.
Before I could fire off a retort, he tilted the tips of his skis down and tipped over the edge.
For a moment, I admired the tight arc he made through the fresh powder before I leaned forward and took off after him.
Exhilaration soared through me as I raced down the slope. I’d never admit it to him, but my eyes did land on his ass once or twice. I mean, it was pretty amazing, even layered in his snow gear. And just because we were friends didn’t mean I couldn’t admire him aesthetically, right?
A few short minutes later, he slid to a stop at the bottom, pushing his goggles up as he turned to watch me finish my descent. When I reached him, I angled my skis at the last minute to spray him with snow.
It may have been childish—although that had never stopped either of us before—but I couldn’t help the giggle that escaped as he wiped the coating of white from his face.
“It’s like that, is it?” he asked, fake menace in his tone. Then he leaned down and scooped up a handful of snow. Oh shit. He’d always had better aim than me.
I couldn’t move fast in my skis, so I twisted away from him and hunched my shoulders, the snowball hitting my back.
I turned around. “Okay, okay, I deserved that,” was all I had time to say before another freezing ball hit me in the face. The breath I sucked in was half air, half snow, and I coughed as the icy combination tickled my throat.
Playing it up a little, I coughed harder and waited for him to come closer like I knew he would.
A few seconds later, his hand was on my shoulder. “Are you okay?”
I looked up at him with a laugh on my lips, wondering whether I could take him down and shove snow in his face if I grabbed and pulled hard enough.
The laugh didn’t come, though. Because with him standing so close, his brow furrowed and his gray eyes scanning what he could see of my face under my goggles, not just one butterfly, but at least half a dozen, took flight.
That wasn’t good.
The concern in his expression faded, probably because my feigned coughing fit had trailed off. He reached for my goggles and pushed them up on my head, his mouth curling up at the corners. Then he lightly brushed his thumb across my bottom lip. “That’s not playing fair, sweetheart.”
For some unexplainable reason, the gravel in his tone hardened my nipples. I licked my lips involuntarily.
Brody’s focus shifted to my mouth and lingered, prompting a strange, aching warmth to spread through me. The playfulness between us had disappeared, replaced by something new and disconcerting.
His hand dropped to the small of my back. The pressure he put there had my skis sliding a few inches forward, bringing me so close to him that I had to tip my head back to keep my eyes locked with his.
Our breaths plumed in the air, and I felt strangely paralyzed. Was Brody playing with me, or was this turning into more than just a lighthearted moment between friends?
And the scary part was, I wasn’t sure which possibility I preferred.
The warmth that had bloomed in me before continued to spread, now reaching my cheeks. I couldn’t stop staring at his lips, wondering how it would feel to have them pressed against mine. I had a sudden urge to run my hands over his hard body in a way I’d hardly ever let myself think about before.
Then my stomach twisted.
Because there was one sure way of losing Brody forever; blurring the lines of our friendship and having it all fall apart. I couldn’t bear the thought of that happening.
Losing Brody wouldn’t be the same as losing my mom and dad. I knew that. But remembering the pain that had torn through me at the way both my parents were taken from me—there one day, gone the next, leaving an aching void where they used to be—it was too easy to imagine how much Brody’s loss would hurt.
So even though my body was urging me to explore this new dynamic between us, I wouldn’t listen to it. I couldn’t. My friendship with him was far too important to risk on what was probably just curiosity on both our parts.
I swallowed past my dry throat and shuffled my skis back, putting some much-needed space between us.
“Come on, let’s get a few more runs in.” My voice sounded breathless and higher pitched than usual, but hopefully he didn’t notice.
Brody said nothing, just nodded, pulled his goggles down, and pushed off with his ski poles, heading for the lift.
I took a deep breath and followed him.