Page 20 of Head Over Skis

‘We’re going to start by going down the slope a few times trying to follow the path of the person in front and doing some slow, wide turns. We’ll have a different person behind me each time, any takers to go first?’

Hands grip my waist and push, and it takes me a second to realise what’s happening as my skis start moving of their own accord. I manage to stop before I crash into Rory, who’s so close I have to bend my neck back to see his face.

‘It seems we have a volunteer,’ he says, noticing the way my hands are raised in front of me, ready in case I slammed into him.

I snatch them back, trying not to slide any further as he smiles and I wonder how someone can look so hot in a ski helmet. I don’t even want to know what he thinks of my appearance right now, hair probably poking out of the French braids Meghan did for me this morning after my dramatic fall.

‘You ready, Lottie?’

I nod, fighting the fact that the way his voice lingers on the two syllables of my name makes me dizzy. I gesture down the slope and nearly take his eye out when I forget I’m holding a pole.

‘Lead the way,’ I say, cringing at the amount of times I’ve nearly impaled or bumped into him already and praying we make it down the slope with both of us in one piece.

Before I can stress about it any more, he takes off, moving at what I’m sure for him is a glacial pace but for me causes stress-sweat to pool under the collar of my ski jacket. I push off with my poles and try to mimic his movements as he skis like it’s easier than walking. I swear I don’t breathe the whole time I’m moving, my internal monologue a broken record of shit, shit, shit, shit. I try not to look down, instead staring at the back of Rory’s jacket and marvelling at the way my skis turn in the direction I want as I focus on following his slow, wide turns.

I might be managing to follow his tracks, but that doesn’t mean I’m not freaking out every time my skis momentarily face down the slope, even in the pizza position. After fumbling my last turn, I barely manage to come to a stop at the bottom, but thankfully it flattens out completely here. My monologue shifts from shit, shit, shit to wait, I’m still alive?

Once I’m more composed and my life is no longer flashing before me, I shuffle my feet in a rendition of the running man until I reach a group of kids waiting in a line near a strange conveyor belt.

When I was halfway down the slope, I was vaguely aware of Rory turning around to watch me and then proceeding to ski the rest of the way backwards. I barely noticed him though, so focused on not falling on my ass.

‘Not bad for a first try. We’re going to do it again and this time try holding your arms out a little more, like this.’

He reaches towards me, hands touching my arms as he lifts them up and out to my sides. There are at least three layers between us, from his gloves to my jacket and then the hundreds of other vests and jumpers I put on this morning, but it feels like he could be brushing his fingertips against my bare skin. I wonder if he feels it too as we stay there, him not moving away as we both look at the points where his hands rest on me.

Then I hear the sound of shifting snow behind me and Tilly comes to a stop at my back, glowing from what I know isn’t only satisfaction at making it down the slope.

Rory clears his throat, not looking back at me as he moves away and waits for the rest of the class to reach the bottom. I come back to my senses and turn to watch as Penny follows behind Bill, getting close enough to poke him in the back with a pole and causing his ever-present frown to deepen. At the back is Stephen, staring at the snow in front of him like it’s lava and moving at such a cautious pace I’m not sure he’s moving at all.

Meghan pushes her poles into the snow to propel herself closer to me, nodding her head up towards him.

‘We need to get this guy a drink so he can loosen up a bit,’ she says, and even though I’m unsure alcohol and first-time skiers are a good mix, I think I agree in this case. Once we’ve all made it down with a surprising lack of falls, Rory gestures towards the strange tunnel to our right.

‘Good job, everyone, it’s not every day a full group makes it down on their first time without a fall. Now, over there is the magic carpet, and it’s the easiest way to get back up to the top so we can do all of that again. All you need to do is line your skis up at the entrance and shuffle onto the carpet and it’ll do the work for you. Then when you get to the top, use your poles to push forwards and turn to the right, back towards where we set off from.’

With that, he skis towards the entrance and I shuffle like a newborn penguin behind him until I get a better look at the inside of the domed tunnel.

‘Ladies first,’ he says, inching to the side to allow me to step on.

I lift my skis up and slide forwards until the tips catch on the carpet and start dragging me up. Once I’m off, I try to find my centre of balance on the sloped surface. It moves more slowly than I thought it would, and halfway up I get bored and start watching as other skiers make their way down the slope. Snow coats the roof of the tunnel and parts of the sides, but I can still make out a group of kids following each other in perfect synchronisation. I’m busy watching them when I realise my skis are starting to slip backwards.

I panic, immediately pressing my poles into the stationary sections of carpet on either side of me in an attempt to stay in place, but they aren’t enough to hold me and I start properly sliding.

‘Shit!’ I yelp, ready for the inevitable chaos.

I prepare for the embarrassment of falling yet again, and of taking out the whole class behind me, but it doesn’t come. I realise I’ve stopped, and two strong hands grip either side of my waist.

‘It’s okay, I’ve got you,’ a voice whispers close to my ear, and my heart jumps in my chest as I remember Rory was the one behind me. His chest is firmly against my back and my ass is pressed flush against his groin.

‘I’m so sorry about this,’ I say, glad he can’t see the blush that’s spreading across my face and neck as I do everything I can not to move and send us both tumbling back further.

‘It’s fine,’ he says in a monotone, which doesn’t reassure me that it is.

‘This happens more often than you’d think,’ he adds, more softly, and I scrunch my nose in disbelief even though he can’t see.

‘Which part? Students falling into you on the magic carpet, or the part where I’m a student that you’ve…’ I cut myself off before I say anything else inappropriate that someone might overhear.

‘The first part. I’ve never found myself in… the other situation.’