Chapter 20 Aspen
Aspen
Friends? Friends with Genevieve Brown?
I’m not sure I can handle that, but when I thought I might lose her, that was the first thing that came to mind. I want her in any way I can have her, even if she can’t be mine.
I said it without thinking—just to keep her close, but now it’s hitting me. I don’t want to be her friend. I want to be her everything.
I lie in bed, staring at the stars on my ceiling, admiring their new shape, wondering what the hell I’m going to do. After I hung up with Genevieve, I took down all the stars from my ceiling and rearranged them into new constellations. I now have the most important one on display, Cassiopeia.
This way whenever I look up at my ceiling, I can think of Genevieve.
Ugh, Genevieve.
I stayed up way too late moving them around, like it’d somehow make her feel closer.
I can’t believe I’ve been friendzoned, and the worst part was I did it myself. That’s the last place I want to be.
I could always ask her to come back. Maybe she would, if I told her I have to see her. Which is true, I do have to see her. I can’t let this woman slip through my fingers just like that.
What if she’s the one?
I know she’s in school, so maybe we could plan for her to come back during her next break. But then again, I can’t leave. First, I don’t have the money. Second, I’ve got work and training to do.
I have a good feeling about her—something I’ve never felt for any other girl. The realization hits me hard, and without thinking I leap out of bed scrambling to find my journal filled with poetry. Inspiration has struck again and I have to get the words down before they slip away.
Genevieve, You have a beauty so luscious. So rare. When you smile, your inner beauty flows out. It escapes through your smile. And you can’t help it. It’s remarkable really. Outstanding. That someone with such beauty. Can be more beautiful in than out.
I set the pen down, breathing in deeply then out.
I’m fucked. Totally, completely, and utterly fucked.
One minute I’m convinced I have to ask her.
The next, I’m scared shitless she’ll say no.
If she turns me down, what then? Do I just..
. rot in my room and listen to sad music for the rest of winter?
I bite the hang nail off my thumb. What if she says no?
Then what? Will I spend the rest of my days thinking about her, hoping that one day I’ll wake up and forget she ever existed?
No chance.
I need to ask her. I just have to hope for the best.
I feel the vibration of my phone buzz through the mattress. I pick it up and am repulsed by the messenger.
It’s my father, again. Asking for money, again.
When will he stop?
He knows that I know he has a problem, yet that doesn’t stop him from acting desperate.
I’m about to respond with something I’ll probably regret later when a knock on my bedroom door pulls me from my thoughts.
“Come in,” I call, my voice tight with frustration.
“Hey, man,” Derek says looking like shit.
I sit up a little straighter in my bed as he comes over and joins me at the edge of my stiff mattress.
“What’s up? You look like hell,” I tell him, the guy truly looks defeated.
“My old man got in an accident. Doesn’t sound too good. I’m gonna have to head down to Louisiana for a few days,” he says, his voice thick with sadness.
“Shit, man,” I reply, rubbing the back of my neck. “I’m really sorry to hear that. Let me know if you need anything, alright?”
“Thanks, bro,” he says, slowly making his way to the door. “I’ll let you know.”
“When are you leaving?” I ask him.
He stops and turns back. “Day after tomorrow.”
That’s too soon.
“Get some sleep, buddy. Feel better,” I say.
He nods his expression unreadable, and exits my room. Poor guy.
I slouch back down into my bed, my mind replaying the news.
I know Derek and his dad aren’t that close.
But I still can’t even imagine how he’s feeling right now.
Derek longs for family, despite his dad being his worst enemy.
I’m sure Derek is hoping he still has time to make amends.
Me, though? As horrible as it sounds, I never care to have a relationship with my father again.
Simply because of that. He was always a father and never a dad.
But even so, I can’t help but think if I got news like that, I’d still be shaken.
I’d want to get on the next plane out, no matter what.
Family is family.
As Derek’s words finally sink in, a plan starts to form in my mind.
The day after tomorrow, huh? Does this make me a bad friend for using his problems to my advantage? Probably, but I’ve never claimed to be a good friend. Just a guy obsessing over a girl and looking like an idiot while doing so.
But for the sake of true love, I have to ask her.
I’ll wait until tomorrow. Give myself some time to think it over and make sure I’m doing the right thing.
But God knows I can’t make any smart decisions when it comes to Genevieve. She’s got my brain wired differently, twisted. I couldn’t make a good decision to save my life when it comes to her. I’d do anything for her.
Including quitting cocaine.
It’s the least I could do.
***
The next morning, I’m up early, even though it’s my day off. Raul messaged me last night, asking if I wanted to train. Like I’d ever say no. Who knows how much longer he’ll keep doing this? I’m going to take every chance I get while he’s still willing.
I know he’s not old or anything but I can sense his health declining.
Owning a business is a lot of stress on one single person and he takes all of the weight himself.
I try to help as much as I can but I get pretty exhausted myself.
But the resort has been doing much better within the last year that I think Raul can start looking into hiring a few more employees so he can take some of the weight off himself.
Raul’s one of the only people who’s ever pushed me because he believes in me, not because he wants something out of me.
I go through my usual morning routine—change, brush, eat—then head out the door.
Outside, the air is sharp and fresh, carrying the crisp scent of pine and snow. The sky is a pale shade of blue, streaked with soft pink as the sun creeps over the peaks. The resort is still quiet, the slopes mostly untouched, except for the early risers carving through the powder.
This is my favorite time of day—when the mountain feels like it belongs to me.
I spot Raul already waiting by the ski lifts, one foot strapped in, like he’s been here forever. No wasted time, no hesitation. That’s just how he is. His board is dusted with fresh powder and he gives me a nod, the kind that says, Let’s get to work.
“Come on, slacker. I’ve been waiting over ten minutes,” he calls out as I walk toward him.
“No one told you to be on time,” I shoot back. Raul is fun to mess with—one of the few people who can take it just as well as he dishes it out.
I strap my left boot in and together we hop our way to the lift’s entrance. The world is quiet except for the hum of the lift cables and the occasional distant whoosh of a skier passing by. We’re first in line and when the lift swings around, we drop onto the seat, the metal cold beneath us.
The safety bar lowers over our heads and Raul kicks off the morning like he always does—with his usual banter.
“Morning sleeping beauty. Did you get enough beauty rest last night?”
“You’re just jealous of my skin since you’ve got wrinkles like an old man,” I fire back.
He smirks, the creases around his eyes deepening. “Touché.”
The lift carries us up in no time, the wind whipping past as we ascend. Below us, the slopes stretch wide and empty, the untouched snow glistening under the early morning sun. As soon as we reach the top, we hop off smoothly, stepping into our boards and locking in as fast as we can.
This is how we always start—our unspoken tradition. A race down the first run to wake up our legs, shake off any stiffness, and get the adrenaline pumping before we dive into the real training.
The second my bindings are secure, I push off. Raul is right beside me, carving clean and fast, but I don’t look his way. My focus is on the slope ahead, on the crisp edges of my board slicing through fresh powder, on the way down, the mountain seems to tilt just enough to make me feel weightless.
The bottom rushes closer. Too fast.
I feel my board wobble beneath me, the edge catching awkwardly. My balance shifts and for a split second, I think I’m going down. I force my weight back, fighting for control. The ground is a blur and I’m barely able to stop before I hit the base.
That was a close one.
I make it down the mountain first today. Last time, Raul beat me. We’re always neck and neck, pushing each other, trading wins. But it wasn’t always like this. When I first started training with him, I was slow—so slow that beating him wasn’t even a possibility.
“Nice job. You finally beat me, sissy,” Raul says, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
I laugh, shaking my head. We unstrap our right boots and hop our way back toward the lift. The motions are second nature by now—glide forward, wait for the chair, settle in as the cable hums above us. The lift swings us back up the mountain, giving us a moment to catch our breath.
“Nice job,” Raul says again, his tone shifting to something more serious. “I noticed you using some technique to gain speed, but it didn’t look like you had much control. You started to wobble near the end.”
I scratch the back of my neck, exhaling. “Yeah, I felt it,” I admit.
“Good, at least you recognize it,” Raul says, his eyes narrowing as he assesses my form. “Today we’re going to work on edge control and carving. That way, you can master your turns and really own your board.”
“Sounds good to me,” I reply eager to improve, to get better, to prove to myself that I can do this.
The chairlift creaks as it pulls us to the top. We hop off in sync and without wasting a second, we start working. The cold air bites at my cheeks, but my focus is razor-sharp.
Every turn, every edge, every subtle shift of my weight has a purpose today.
I can’t afford to be a slacker—not with Genevieve in my mind. The thought pushes me harder. Becoming a pro isn’t just about the accolades. It’s about making sure I’m the person she deserves.
So I train. I train until my legs burn, until the muscles in my thighs scream for relief. Raul pushes me, keeps me focused, but it’s my own resolve that drives me forward. I won’t stop.
I can’t stop.
As the day wears on and the snow begins to lose its sparkle under the setting sun, I keep pushing, every turn sharper, every carve more precise. My legs ache, but I don’t stop. I can’t. Not when I think about Genevieve—her smile, her ability to make me feel seen.
The thought of her pushes me harder than any training drill Raul could throw at me.
I want to be the kind of man who can offer her something real.
I want to be someone who can stand tall, someone who can provide.
And I’m starting to realize… maybe that’s what’s going to make me a pro sooner than I thought.
Having Genevieve as a goal to work towards.
Raul’s voice cuts through my thoughts and I catch the familiar gleam of pride in his eyes.
Today, he trained with me all day just like the old times.
Back when it wasn’t about quick sessions or rushed lessons.
We’d spend hours on the mountain, pushing each other until we were both exhausted.
Those days were rare now—Raul usually only gives me a few hours, which is understandable, the man’s busy.
But today… today, he gave me everything.
Maybe that’s what makes the difference. Maybe it’s not just the snow or the drills—it’s the connection, the way Raul’s belief in me hasn’t wavered, even when I’ve started to doubt myself.
“One last run and then one more?” Raul asks me.
It’s a thing snowboarders say for good luck. On your last run you say, one last run and then one more so that you say you have one more run, even though it’s really not, this way you don’t try to get a bunch of extra flips in and act all stupid where you can hurt yourself.
I look over at Raul. “Hell yeah,” I tell him.
So we go up the lift and then ride right back down for the second to last time, but actual , last time today.
I glance at him again as we finish for the day and a new kind of determination settles in. This isn’t just about the mountain anymore. It’s about becoming the man Genevieve deserves, and I’ll be damned if I don’t get there faster than anyone expects.
Just watch me.