Page 4 of Ski You Later (Alpine Glow #1)

She’s wearing the wrong type of socks.

The rest of training went along seamlessly, ripping hot laps in the course until it was time to tear it all down. The slang hot lap originating from the fact that you never stop skiing, and thus being on fire .

At this level of our careers, almost everyone prefers to go at their own pace, and lap the racecourse as many times as possible instead of waiting around for friends to finish.

A consequence of this is having to interact with new people on every chairlift, and they’re always filled with comments. The spandex-polyester speed suit we have to wear in minus twenty-degree temperatures causes people to look at us with surprise.

Oh, I’m cold just looking at you!

Young lady, where are your clothes!

Does wearing a jacket really slow you down that much? I don’t think it’s that big of a deal .

I always hit them with a forced chuckle, and just jokingly agree since I never want my answer to come across as rude.

What they don’t know is that wearing a jacket compared to a race suit could be the difference between first and twentieth place.

The wind resistance and restriction of movement caused by the jacket can slow racers down by multiple seconds, but that reasoning seems ridiculous to the average person.

At a certain point it just becomes too much work to defend the sport, so I just nod and move on.

Stomping my boots onto the worn rug of the lodge, I shake the snow off my gear and make my way to our usual spot.

Spotting Rora taking off her gear with our friends, I bee line right for our little group.

Squeezing past Calvin and his friends, I toss my gloves on the table and plop my butt on one of the cold metal stools.

This whole lodge was built to resemble a log cabin in the woods; the logs making up the walls, tables, and even the ceiling of the building.

The entire space never fails to comfort me, and this is probably due to the fact that I was basically raised under these wooden beams. I just always assume they cheaped out at the final stages and put metal stools in for the seating, since the seats are as ugly as they’re uncomfortable .

Unbuckling my helmet, I glance up to see the rest of our group trickling in from outside. Charles sits across from me, immediately putting his head on the table and pretending to fall asleep. His sandy brown hair falls everywhere in the process, and I promptly brush it off my gear.

This causes him to jokingly glare up at me, and his piercing blue eyes catch my attention. Charles has a fairly ordinary face with very pale skin, but the beauty of his eyes immediately distracts everyone that meets him.

I look past him to see that Liam and Isla both made it to training today, with the latter being a little worse for wear. Liam starts to wrap his arm around Isla’s groggy form, and they both head to our table.

Liam removes his helmet to reveal hair so blonde, that rivals my own. Although, this is paired with his dull blue eyes that don’t hold a candle to Charles’.

Liam couldn’t be more different from the girl at his side as she also starts removing her gear.

Isla’s easily one of the prettiest girls I’ve ever met, which is another reason Aurora seems to hate her so much.

Her dark brown skin mixed with equally dark eyes draws people in like a magnet.

Even as a high-performance athlete, she somehow manages to look amazing at the end of a training day, and I'll never learn her secret. I couldn’t relate less to this if I tried, as I look in my goggles and see my hair sticking up in every direction.

Even though my best friend isn’t a big fan of her, Isla transferred to the Polar group this season, and has quickly become one of my favourite teammates.

Isla and Liam start to flirt before my eyes, and I cast a sidelong glance at Aurora. The hurt flashing on her face is sudden and sharp, but she just returns to taking off her boots as if nothing happened.

In classic Aurora fashion, she’ll simply ignore these emotions and focus all her feelings into her ski racing.

I’ve tried to get her to talk to me about these feelings for longer than I can remember, but she’s as stubborn as they come.

What’s important is that she knows I’m always here for her, and that is the best I can offer.

Her somber mood reminds me of my phone call, and how stressed I am about a certain situation I’ve put myself in. I’ll have to fill her in on my stupidity tonight, and maybe the joke that is my life will bring a smile to her face.

The different factions of our ski team all start to make their way to our corner of the lodge, as everyone undresses and waits for the end of the day debrief.

My friends are already spread out around our table, but my cousin and her band of morons push past us to sit at theirs.

Turns out my nightmare of a cousin actually showed up today, as her and her two minions make a scene as they sit in their seats.

Jasmine, Taylor, and Sofia all carelessly toss their gear onto their table, howling with laughter at something Jasmine said. The noise is as fake as it comes because I know she’s the least funny person in the world.

She removes her helmet, her long, dark hair spilling out from the inside, and it proceeds to fall down her back in waves.

Shaking her head lightly, her bronze skin somehow glimmers after practice, with the chocolate brown of her eyes complimenting all aspects about her.

While our moms are both from central Alberta, her dad was born in Colombia, and blessed both his children with their beautiful bronze skin.

I watch as she makes another lame joke, and her resulting smile seems to shine. I don’t know how she does it, but her makeup looks the same as this morning, with her gloss still shimmering. Against my better judgement, I can’t help but compare myself to her.

My hair sticks up in every direction, while chunks of it are glued to my scalp with sweat.

The green of my eyes only brings to attention the paleness of my features, which makes everyone think I’m sick all the time.

Aurora says my freckles give me a little bit of colour, but I think she’s just being nice.

Looking away from Jasmine, I’m determined to be kind to myself and focus on something else.

Luckily, the male equivalent of Jasmine’s little group strides in, and their obnoxious energy floods the lodge in waves of testosterone.

I look up and meet Aurora’s eyes, her dismay transforming into a fit of suppressed laughter.

Calvin, Nico, Grayson, and Kai are just yelling at this point as they start to remove their gear and talk about how good they are at ski racing.

They all look the exact same if you ask me: tall, muscular athletes who are criminally obsessed with themselves.

While their complexions all vary, they share the same buzzed haircuts and the desire to feed into each other’s egos.

They’re fairly harmless in my opinion, with all of them having manners and good social skills. But, that doesn’t change the fact that they’re always yelling, fighting, and causing a scene wherever they go.

Aurora and I both roll our eyes at the group, returning to removing our equipment in peace. That is, until the cold wind signals more people entering from outside .

Always finding a way to command the room, the final friend group are the last to enter the lodge.

Rhys strolls in and holds his ski bag with one hand, as if it didn’t weigh a million pounds.

The guy is an absolute force, taking up over six feet of space as he saunters to the corner table and starts to gear down.

Unclipping his helmet reveals the short black hair cropped close to his scalp, and his tan skin that contrasts his white face mask.

Landon and Xander quickly make their presence known as they both clamor into the room.

The Huxley brothers are goofy and loud, pushing one another as they walk to their table.

Landon’s pale blond curls oppose Xander’s dark brown hair in the starkest of contrasts and show how even on a physical level the two are Yin and Yang.

The story of Landon being brought into the Huxley family isn’t too well known, with rumors running amuck at the time. Whether Landon’s parents passed away, abandoned him, or were abducted by aliens, the only thing known for sure is that the Huxley family took him in immediately.

The Huxley’s are a big family name in this sport, having a yearly donation for the university team to decrease our fees, as well as volunteering at all the races.

They run a ton of businesses within the city, from ski stores to athletic wear companies.

There was even a rumor that their parents owned this super exclusive bar, but no one can get anything out these boys.

Either way, the Huxley family has been a friendly face on the hill ever since I was a little girl.

As the last gust of wind hits my face, the black cat of the family saunters his way through the door. Roman’s usual scowl is plastered to his face, as he brushes the snow off himself. I can’t help but notice how his muscles move with the motion since his race suit hugs him like a second skin.

The white suit is covered in blue swirls that wrap around his body, with his many sponsorships running up both calves. Similar sponsorships cover the side of my leg, but given his height, he has more room when it comes to displaying them.

I watch discreetly as he strolls towards the group, but I really start to stare when he removes his helmet.

Curly brown hair so dark it looks black spills into his eyes, and he promptly runs both hands through it.

Against my better judgement, I take in every inch of his form and the way every piece of him is packed with muscles.

I know that everyone on this team is insanely strong, but seeing the way Roman uses them to do simple tasks is almost hypnotic .