Page 8 of Ski You Later (Alpine Glow #1)

I’d never let her do this alone.

My energy this morning was sitting at a comfortable thirty-five percent, but a snowball to the face quickly took it down to ten.

I can’t help the storm cloud of grump that settles over my head as I straight-line down to the top of the course.

The hill is as good as dead since the chairlift is having issues, and I want to get inside the lodge as soon as possible.

Stopping at the top of the training course, I pop off my skis and make my way to the team radio that’s clipped to the start gate.

“Hey, Liane and Rachel, I was stuck on the chairlift, but I’m at the top now. Should I come down to the lodge?”

“Oh, Rhodes, this is perfect! Can you tear down the course and leave every ten-gates bundled on the side of the hill?” Liane’s staticky voice asks this as if it were no big deal, as if she’s asking for a cup of coffee.

As if it’s acceptable to ask me to tear down a thirty-gate course alone, after I’ve been freezing my butt off on the chair for twenty minutes.

“Um, sorry. Just to clarify, you want me to dismantle the entire course by myself?” I repeat into the radio, with the disbelief apparent in my tone.

“Look, Rhodes. Apparently, the lift needs a whole new piece ordered, and they won't be able to get it until Monday. If you can tear the course, then we don’t need to get the ski patrol involved.” Rachel jumps into the fray with this information.

My silence must convey my reluctance because Liane pipes in with another informative message.

“Rhodes, we’re not asking. You are part of a team, and you’re the only member up there right now. If any other athlete were in your shoes, they would do it for you. So, the longer you stall, the longer you are left outside in the cold.”

This day sucks. It really does. I know that Jasmine would never be asked to do this, and that thought does nothing but cause anger to flood through me. I’m crushed under the double standards held by this team, and I try to tamper down the boiling of my blood.

Ripping the radio off the post, I shut it off before I tell the coaches where I think they can shove it .

A bloody face, a frozen butt, and a sour mood are the key points of my day. The fact that I have to go home and finish my lab report is just icing on this cake of crap.

There are four gates in view from here, the pitch below housing the other twenty-six.

Accepting my fate, I push the sleeves of Roman’s jacket up to my elbow, bend at the knees, and begin to yank the frozen plastic poles from the ground.

Since we had a decent amount of training before this, the snow surrounding the gates is a sheet of ice, and I ensure my feet are secure before I pull.

I only manage to remove three gates out of the ground with ease, since the fourth refuses to budge even an inch.

With a frustrated scream that rattles the trees, I use all my might to kick the base of the gate.

It’s frozen itself into the ground, so I repeatedly smack my boot into this plastic gate.

I channel my emotions from the entire weekend into my leg, putting all my force behind it and waiting for the ice around it to crack.

“I heard it’s easier to just pull them out of the snow,” a deep voice chuckles behind me.

I whip around at the sound, shock mixing with my anger as I take him in .

Roman uses his skis as poles as he crests the pitch, gently placing them both on the snow before he makes his way to me.

“What? How? What?” My words unintentionally turn into questions as I look at him quizzically. How is he even here? Didn’t he go into the lodge with the rest of the team?

“I heard. Pulling them out of the snow. Is easier.” He mimics the motions of pulling a gate out of the snow as he over-annunciates each word.

My confused expression quickly turns into a glare that could rival his as I lift my goggles to the rim of my helmet. “Oh, thank you for that explanation, Huxley,” I quip, using his last name like he did mine.

His eyes widen a fraction, the slight lift of his lip visible before his expression is schooled back into neutrality. “Sorry, Langley, I’ll just let you get back to it then.” Crossing his arms over his chest, he looks at me expectantly, and I can’t describe the flutter like feeling in my stomach.

I turn away from him before I get too distracted, mumbling as I go back to my task.

Grabbing the very bottom of the gate, I use my legs to pull straight up.

The piece in the ground is covered in bristles that stick to the snow but should slide right out at this angle.

The current issue is that the bristles are frozen to the ground and need a big tug to get them free.

I feel a slight shift in the gate under my hands, my mood brightening significantly right before my boot slips on the ice, and I go flying backwards.

Easy to say my emotions are all over the place at this point as I remain flat on the ground.

If I weren’t wearing a helmet and a protector strapped to my back, this probably would have hurt a lot more.

While my butt gives a light throb as I sit up, it’s actually the howling laughter that grabs my full attention.

Roman’s arms are now wrapped around his stomach, his form bent over at the waist as he lets out another bout of laughter. My jaw drops all on its own, never in all my years of knowing him, has he ever laughed like this.

While I usually love to hear others laugh, the fact that it’s at my expense does nothing but get on my nerves. Crossing my arms over my chest now, each laugh causes my eye to twitch.

“I can’t believe you’re just standing there, laughing at me,” I say outraged.

He has the nerve to let out a joyful sigh as he puts his goggles up, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye. “That was hilarious, Langley. ”

The use of my last name two times in a row makes me grit my teeth and I try to stay calm. Putting my arm behind me, I smack my boot into the ice, so I don’t slip again and carefully push myself up. Before I’m even halfway off the ground, he appears right in front and grabs me.

His hand closes around mine, with the other one lightly gripping me under my bicep. He easily pulls me to my feet, and keeps me steady as I find my footing.

“Thanks,” I mutter. Walking past him and going towards the panelled gate in the snow. The sound of his boots is right behind me as I approach this gate, and I’m more determined than ever to get it out.

Roman’s presence behind me is doing nothing but motivate me more as I grip the bottom post. With every ounce of strength left in me, I pull up and feel the shift of the bristles in the ice. As the gate gives out, my upper body shoots upward with the gate in my hand.

It doesn’t take two seconds before I drop the gate, whip around, and shove my finger into Roman’s chest. “Ha! I did it! I told you!”

He grabs onto my out-stretch wrist without a second thought, his hold gentle but firm. Leaning down closer to me, his glare stays locked in place as one of his eyebrows quirks up. “I never said you couldn’t do it,” he snips.

“You implied it,” I respond immediately. Pulling my shoulders back so I can look him in the eye better.

“I did nothing of the sort,” he says confused.

“You laughed at me!” My temper starts to slip as he continues to play coy.

“You did something funny,” he drawls back. I try to ignore the way it snakes over my skin, causing my thoughts to scatter before me.

He’s close to me now, much closer than I remember him being. “Well, I’m still upset with you,” I declare. Turning around and confidently stomping towards my skis.

Unfortunately, he’s back in my path before I can make it another two steps. His brow is still raised, but now it’s mixed with a confused expression.

“What? What have I done?” His question seems to be the straw that broke the camel’s back for me as every terrible part of this weekend bubbles to the surface. My suppressed emotions mix with my current thoughts, and I take a giant step into his space.

“Who. In their right mind. Books a training day. Seven hours. Before it even starts!” I can’t help but get louder as each set of words comes out of my mouth. My finger goes back to stabbing him in the chest, with each poke freeing some of my pent-up emotions.

His gaze turns critical as he starts to look over me again. The playfulness that had danced in his eyes disappears, and I can’t describe the regret that suddenly floods me at this. His signature scowl is locked back in place and he just glares down at me.

He seems to have a fight with himself as I watch conflict enter his gaze.

When I think he’s just going to turn around and leave, he surprises me further by stepping directly into my space.

“Oh, I don’t know, Langley? Did you ever think that I don’t book the training space,” he says defensively as his glove lightly taps my collarbone periodically.

“I did, actually! That is why I always defend you when everyone’s pissed at you!” I retaliate by stabbing my finger into his stomach multiple times as I say this. My angry tone mixed with my kind words, cause Roman’s face to look more confused than ever.

His quizzical stare meets my angry one and he throws his hands in the air. “Then why are we yelling at each other!”

“I don’t know,” I yell even louder. Throwing my hands in the air with him, and his oversized jacket causes the extra room in the arm sleeves to flop all around the place.

My eyes widen immediately, and I realize that I’ve been warm in his jacket this whole time as he stands in front of me in his speed suit.

With speed that impresses even me, I reach down and start to fumble with the jacket’s zipper. My gloves inhibiting my ability to grip the small clasp, and I let out a frustrated sound.

Roman’s hand lands atop mine as I continue to struggle, stopping my motions as I look up at him. “What are you doing?” He asks exasperatedly.

“I’m giving you back your jacket,” I respond instantly.

“Why?” His guarded expression falters before he schools it back.

“You’re in a race suit. You must be freezing.”

His gaze narrows, probably at my rapid switching of emotions. “I thought we were fighting?” His question has an air of lightness to it, and I grip onto that like a lifeline.

“I can multitask,” I say casually.

Lifting my shoulder in a shrug, I push his jacket to my elbows as I start to remove my gloves. There’s no way I can grab that tiny zipper with my chunky mitts .

“If you think I’m letting your hands out of those gloves, you have to be insane.” He quickly grabs both my wrists, stopping my movements.

“Fine. I’ll give it back to you in the lodge then.” I have to tilt my head drastically to look at him when he’s this close, but he nods at my words and releases my hands.

He doesn’t step back though, and I surprise myself by staying rooted to the spot as well. This close to him, it’s easy to see the stubble that clings to his jaw, the harshness of his features similar to a statue.

Arguably, the most noticeable feature displayed on his face is the bend at the top of his nose, the result of a childhood injury.

“Why are you smiling, Langley?” His voice is quiet as he asks this, his body drifting closer to me, almost as if he’s unaware he’s doing it.

“I just remembered the day you broke your nose. You had that terrible crash, and then when they tried to send you home, you started freaking out. Even at thirteen, you were determined to finish every race.” I can’t help the laugh that escapes me as I remember us all those years ago.

He must feel the same way, his eyes widen as I recount the memory, shock, and something else sparkling in his gaze. “How the hell do you remember that. That was about ten years ago.” The awe is evident in his voice, as if people remember these things about him is not a common event.

“How could I forget, that day was hilarious. I think Xander started crying because he thought you were dying.” That gets another smile from him, possibly the most genuine one I’ve ever seen.

Before I decide if I’ll randomly freak out at him again, I decide it’s time for us to get moving. “Okay, let’s just tear this course down and get in the lodge.”

Finally stepping away from him, I go to clip on my skis and ignore the cold that quickly fills the space he previously took up. As I grab the four gates, my jaw drops as the view from over the pitch greets me.

The entire course is gone, bundles of gates leaning on the side of the hill. All the work I had been dreading is completely done, and neatly piled where the coaches wanted it. Roman skis up to my side, taking the gates from my hands with ease.

“Yeah, I hiked up here while you were on the chair and tore down the entire course. A snowball to the face seemed like enough of a punishment for you today, Langley. ”

Feelings rapidly fly through me at this: guilt, embarrassment, gratefulness, and shame. How he must have felt after doing all that work just to have one of his athletes scream in his face.

My cheeks flames at the thought, and I quickly turn towards him to apologize. His strong back is all I see as clips in his skis and goes down the pitch.