11
‘He did NOT!’ Tilly gasps, gloved hands slapping her cheeks as her legs bounce up and down.
‘Whoa, calm down, I don’t want you falling off this chairlift and leaving me forced to attempt some elaborate rescue mission,’ I say, reaching out to restrain her.
I decided to wait until this morning to explain to her how our pub quiz win may have been slightly unfair as she’d been way too drunk at the time to understand or remember it. That, joint with the fact the reason related to Rory and I didn’t want to bring him up with everyone else around.
Even without Adam there, the knowledge that my ski instructor and the guy I slept with before the holiday are in fact the same person is still being kept tightly under wraps.
Same face, same body, same scent, which I’ve been wrapped in since he gave me his jacket last night.
I slept in it. Yeah, I know I have a problem and yes, I will be leaving that particular detail out when I chat to Tilly.
‘Stop being such a mum right now, and don’t tell me to calm down after you told me lover boy rigged the quiz for you!’
‘He did not rig it. And stop with that inappropriate nickname, he’s your ski instructor.’
‘I think that’s a fact I should be reminding you about, not the other way around, but that would be extremely boring of me and I’m all for this strange but sexy teacher-student fantasy you’re living out.’
I almost wish I hadn’t brought this up at all, but I had to because I need to get her opinion on what it could mean, if anything.
Once I’d gone back into the bar and artfully avoided answering questions about my newly acquired item of clothing, I watched as Rory took the mic from his colleague and announced the next round.
‘Is everyone having a good time out there?’
A series of whoops and wolf whistles followed, and my mood was picking back up with every second I was there and Adam wasn’t.
Part of me was worrying about where he was and if he was okay, but a larger part of me was fixating on the way Rory’s hand brushed through his hair as he smiled at the groups dotted around the room.
‘Well get ready, because we’re about to jump into round two of the evening, and it’s…’
His eyes found our table in that pause. Found me. And this big cheesy grin spread across his face.
‘Musicals!’
I nearly fell off my bar stool as I registered what he’d said, and suddenly I wasn’t on a bar stool at all but balanced on his kitchen island whilst he shuffled through songs on his phone.
It had come up so casually in our conversation, him putting on those songs in an effort to help me relax, and for a second, I wondered if it was merely a lucky coincidence. Then his parting words came back to me.
‘Am I crazy? Do you think this whole theory is crazy?’ I ask, genuinely concerned I’m way off the mark with this whole thing.
‘Okay, let me try and get a few things straight,’ she says, twisting in the narrow seat to face me as she starts to list things off.
‘This guy bought you a drink, then he followed you out in the snow to give you his jacket, then he wrote a whole quiz round on a topic he knew you’d know lots about all because he’d found out only a few hours before that you’d be there? Am I getting that all right?’
I nod. ‘So do you think he might be flirting with me?’
Tilly tilts her head back until her helmet thumps against the back of the seat. ‘Do you even have any brain cells in that French-braided little head of yours? Yes, this guy is totally flirting with you.’
I feel a rush of something like a thrill but also utter panic at the same time, and I don’t look down otherwise those feelings mixed with how high we are might make me throw up on the white all-in-one snowsuit I borrowed from Meghan.
It’s even got a faux-fur-trim hood and probably costs more than my flights here, but she insisted I wear it.
When I tried it on and saw my reflection in the mirror, I realised why – it makes my butt look a lot better than the mismatched trousers and jacket I wore yesterday.
I didn’t realise I’d be so grateful to have a fashion guru on a ski holiday.
‘Okay, well what the fuck am I supposed to do now? How do I act around him?’
Sweat starts to prickle at the back of my neck as I consider whether to try and flirt back. I haven’t properly flirted with someone since the early days of my relationship with Adam, and that was so long ago now I don’t want to think back on it because it will make me feel old.
Should I even be flirting with someone when I’m still sort of taken?
‘Uh-uh, I know that face. You don’t owe Adam anything, and besides you could do with letting loose a little.’
‘I am loose.’
Tilly scoffs. ‘You’re my best friend, and you know I love you, so please don’t take this the wrong way, but Lottie, sometimes you don’t know a good time even when it’s hitting you in the face.’
I nearly drop my poles as I swivel round to face her, mouth open wide in offence. ‘Excuse me?’
She shrugs, clearly feeling no remorse at casually branding me un-fun.
‘You’re obsessed with plans, which has meant you’ve stayed in a job you never have anything good to say about, and a relationship I’ve thought you should leave for years.
And that’s not a surprise, you know I’ve said that before. ’
I nod, not feeling offended. She’s not wrong about my job, and she’s always been honest and admitted that she doesn’t think Adam and I are the right fit, and it’s nothing against him as an individual. And I do appreciate her telling me.
‘You never do anything before you’ve thought out all the consequences, you’re always sensible,’ she continues, ‘and for once I’m going to give you advice and I want you to actually listen to me.’
I want to contest some of the things she’s saying, but when I open my mouth, she shakes her head, so I resign myself to sitting tight and listening to what she has to say.
‘Stop worrying about whatever may or may not be happening with Rory and just let it play out. Ditch the stressing and go with it. You might actually enjoy the craziness.’
I grimace, knowing there’s no way I’ll be able to stop stressing about this. ‘I don’t know if I can do that.’
‘Well, you should figure that out quickly because there he is,’ she says, lifting her pole and pointing it ahead of us to where Rory is standing with the other ski instructor we briefly met yesterday.
I’m too distracted by him to realise Tilly’s lifted the safety bar ready for us to get off the lift, and I forget to push myself up when my dangling skis connect with the ground.
‘Lottie! What are you doing?’
I hear Tilly squeal as the chairlift starts to pivot around to head back down the mountain and I’m still on it, my skis getting further and further away from the ground.
I scream as I freak out and leap off the seats, picturing all the various ways this landing will probably go wrong.
When I expect the impact, I’m cushioned by something instead.
‘You trying to impress me, Lottie?’
In one fluid motion I’m lifted from where my face was hovering one inch from the ground and spun around until I’m facing Rory, his hands gripping me underneath my shoulders.
‘Impress you, embarrass myself, something like that,’ I say with a shrug, his hands still gripping me as if he doesn’t trust I’ll stay on my feet if he lets go.
‘Well lucky for you you’re about to have your second ski lesson with a pretty great teacher.’ He finally releases me, leaving hand-shaped indents on my sleeves.
‘Really? Are we getting a new teacher then?’
‘Wow. Is that what I get for helping you to victory at last night’s quiz?’ he asks, and my pulse leaps.
‘I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,’ I say, revelling in the fact that I was right. He really had written that round with me in mind.
‘Come on, Lottie, we’re going to be late,’ Tilly says, skiing up to the side of me.
I don’t correct her by saying we can hardly be late when our instructor is right here.
‘I’m okay, thanks for asking,’ I say instead, brushing the remaining snow off where it’s sticking to my salopettes.
‘I figured you were in good hands,’ she replies, raising one of hers and wiggling her fingers at Rory. ‘Hi there, teacher.’
‘Don’t call him that,’ I mumble, and she laughs as she pushes off with her poles and heads to the slope that takes us to the ski school huts.
I watch her weave down it, a little wobbly at times but she makes it to the bottom without incident and moves towards the rest of our class.
‘We really should get going,’ I say, shuffling my skis in some odd backwards and forwards motion to get to the edge of the flat section of slope.
I peer down it, remembering how chaotic my descent was the day before and dreading having to do it again, especially in front of Rory, who’s probably baffled by how unnatural someone can be on skis. Maybe I could take them off?
‘I’m not letting you take your skis off and walk down, so stop considering it,’ Rory says from behind me, and I frown.
How did he know?
‘You didn’t see her yesterday, like a baby deer on roller skates.’
The words come from a voice that I recognise as belonging to the other instructor. The one who fished me off the ground yesterday. I turn around to check and catch Rory muttering at him to be quiet.
‘Thanks for the vote of confidence…’ I trail off, realising he never gave me his name.
‘Kevin, and I’m only messing with you. It’s Lottie, right? Although I might nickname you Bambi.’
He says it with a smile, and I can’t lie, his nickname is accurate, so I don’t take it personally.
‘Show us what you’ve got,’ he says, sliding smoothly to my side. I don’t move.
In fact, I’m about to lean down and take off my skis instead, because screw Rory for saying I’m not allowed. He’s not the boss of me, although I guess as my instructor he kind of is. Before I can, two hands graze the bottoms of my arms, lifting them out to the side.
‘Arms out, body loose, remember all the times you made it down the training slope yesterday. You’ve got this, and I’ll be right here.’