Page 86 of Kiss Me Like I Didn't Kill You

Adelaide looks up from her phone. “All right, who’s up for skiing today?”

I nod in agreement, as does Piper, and Octavia perks up immediately. “I’m in.”

“Of course you are,” Adelaide sighs.

“We’ll need to rent gear in the village,” she adds, straightening slightly. “There’s a lift station not far from here.”

“Perfect,” Isaak says, already on his feet. “Fifteen minutes. Be ready.”

I finish my coffee and the last bite of breakfast before heading upstairs to change.

Inside the walk in, I pull out my Fendi ski suit, cream with soft gold accents, cinched at the waist with a matching belt.

I layer the thermals first, then slip into the insulated top and trousers. They mould perfectly to my frame.

I tuck my hair into a knitted cream headband. My gloves match, pale beige leather with faux fur lined cuffs.

As I sit on the bed to pull on my boots, Arlo steps into the closet. I slide my feet into my white Moon Boots and fasten the straps.

When we head downstairs, the others are already gathered by the door, dressed in their ski gear and layered up against the cold.

Octavia’s chosen a rose pink ski jacket that matches her hair, Adelaide’s in deep emerald green, and Piper’s soft blue gear makes her look like she’s stepped straight out of a snow globe.

Outside, the cold bites instantly. We split into two cars, me and the girls with Adelaide, the men in the other.

The moment the door shuts, Adelaide hits the accelerator, the tyres spinning against the snow before gripping.

We shoot forward, laughter spilling through the car as a cloud of white powder rises behind us, leaving the men in the drift.

Chapter 29

Ophelia

The drive winds up through pine forests and white ridges until the small village opens below the mountain, dotted with chalets, ski shops, and a coffee bar with smoke curling from its chimney.

We park the cars and walk down to the ski boutique at the foot of the slope.

Cedar and wax hang in the air, racks of gleaming kit line the walls.

The proprietor gives us a courteous nod. A staff member comes over to take our sizes and ask what we prefer, skis or snowboards.

“Snowboard for me,” Adelaide says before anyone can answer.

Isaak’s eyes gleam. “I’ll have a snowboard as well,” he adds, in a flat voice, they’re competitive to the point of farce.

Octavia and Milo end up with matching skis. It looks accidental until Milo’s grin tells a different story.

Arlo, Hunter, Piper and I all choose skis.

I’ve never tried a board and don’t intend to start now, skis suit me.

I kneel to fasten the buckle at my ankle, the cold metal biting through my glove, then stand and gather my skis in my hands.

Piper fusses with her woollen hat and tugs her goggles up onto her forehead, fingers lingering in the auburn hair she tucks away.

When our eyes meet she offers a hesitant, genuine smile.

“Ready?” she asks, in a soft voice.