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“C’mon!” Faith shouted, her voice muffled by the thick drifts of snow. “Just one more run!”

Just one more run. The last run. The last run on the last mountain of a week-long ski-tour in the Italian Alps. Such a bittersweet ending to an amazing time.

But I didn’t want to push it.

“The snow is crazy though,” I argued. “And the wind’s picking up. And the weather says—”

“Blah blah blah,” Faith laughed, with an accompanying eye-roll. “Really Morgan, you have to let loose! You’ve been wound up way too tight, our whole time here!”

Maybe, I thought to myself. But maybe not. The trip had been fun — a much needed and welcome break from our

studies. We’d come all the way from Massachusetts with a bunch of other students, and I’d been drunk two nights out of seven. That was a personal record for me. Wound up tight my ass…

Then again, Faith had already hooked up. Twice. And with two different guys! Although the first one — the cute one — I think she only made out with, and—

“We’re already up here,” Faith said, lowering her goggles. My shoulders slumped as she pointed with one ski pole. “Forget taking the gondola down, we’re doing this double-black diamond!”

Double-black diamond?

My stomach rolled as my friend turned and skied to the edge. I caught up with her cautiously and looked down, already not liking what I saw.

The trail was steep. Wicked steep. It was narrow too, with trees on both sides and what looked like a 90-degree turn that ended in a cliff if you didn’t make it.

“That doesn’t even look like a ski run,” I groaned. I glanced around for a trail marker.

“Sure it is. I saw it on the map earlier.”

“What, that map my parents gave you?” I chuckled. “The one from when they were here in the 70’s?”

Faith laughed again. She really did have the best laugh.

“I will not have you shit-talking your parents!” she said. “Your parents rock! They have more adventure in their little fingers than you do in your entire body!”

I shuddered against the wind. It was probably true. That made it worse.

“Really, Morgan,” she went on. “I don’t know how you were even born to them. Maybe you were switched at the hospital or—”

The rest of her sentence died on the wind. The gusts were picking up again, and conditions were getting blinding. I could barely see her mouth moving, through the blowing snow.

“C’mon,” Faith shouted over the wind. “You’ll remember this forever! This is your YOLO moment!”

With that she planted her poles, pushed forward, and leapt over the edge.

I gasped as her skis caught deep powder, and she began swishing back and forth. She was going fast! My heart leapt into my throat.

Better go now or you’re gonna lose her, my mind warned.

I wanted to turn back the clock. Go back twenty minutes and remake the decision to step into the gondola one last time. We could be in the lodge right now, sitting before the fire. Drinking hot chocolate spiked with Kahlua, alongside the twenty-five or so other UMASS students who were wrapping up our much-needed winter break with us.

Faith was almost gone from sight. She was a tiny pink dot, zigging and zagging, with a blizzard of snow swirling around her.

Dammit.

This was it. My YOLO moment. Only, if you checked the internet, not every YOLO moment ended well for everyone.

No. Some ended horrifically, in fact.

Morgan!