Page 35 of Head Over Skis

‘Meet you guys back at the chalet. I’m on the cooking rota tonight so I hope everyone’s happy with pasta bake.’

I don’t miss Lucas’s grimace, and it isn’t unwarranted given the food I’ve cooked him before. Dishes which can all be described in two words: bland and overcooked.

‘Hey, Lotts!’

Tilly and I are almost at the door when Adam calls me back.

‘If you want, I can help you cook later. My night’s not until the end of the week so it’s no trouble.’

It’s a sweet offer, and he’s really trying, what with not questioning me about Rory earlier. And selfishly, I would like the help.

‘Thanks, Adam. I think everyone would appreciate that.’

He’s pleased by my acceptance, and it’s a small form of forgiveness for last night. I follow Tilly to our skis, and while we sit on the chairlift down into town, I wonder why getting things back on track with Adam doesn’t feel as good as I’d expected.

I let Tilly research spas while I searched for the black swimsuit I was sure I’d packed. When I came up short, Tilly fished out her spare bikini, which frankly is nothing more than a thong and a top with two tiny triangles. Not ideal, but I took it as it was either that or my actual underwear, and none of the pairs I’d packed are especially flattering.

Now we’re both in the changing rooms, having been given our robes, a little towel each, and two pairs of flimsy slippers.

‘Right, I’m off to my massage,’ Tilly says, shutting her locker and looping the bracelet with the key around her wrist. ‘Pray for me that it’s worth the eighty euros I’m spending on it.’

‘Fingers and toes crossed for you. Come and find me afterwards.’

Once she’s disappeared, I pull out my phone, the act of crossing my fingers reminding me of Dad and his potential pilot. I open the latest string of messages on our group chat to check for an update, but the last thing sent was another selfie of Dad with the neighbour’s cat from two hours ago. I send a quick update of my day as well as some photos from the top of the slope, which Mum heart-reacts almost immediately.

I lock my phone away, scan over the list of facilities my general package covers and come up with a plan for my time, starting with a dip in the hot tub.

I take slow steps as I follow signs for it, trying not to slip in the truly awful slippers. I pause at a set of misted glass doors and hype myself up for the brief walk through the cold I’ll have to do to get there.

When I’m ready, I push open one door and scurry out onto the wooden plank path, the thin towel wrapped around me doing nothing to keep out the cold.

Snow seeps through the useless slippers, but I’m nearly there and I don’t waste a second before dropping my towel on the patio and getting ready to submerge myself.

I was sure there was no one else in the tub when I peered through the door, but now I’m here, I realise I was wrong. I pause with one toe dipped in the water.

Rory’s eyes slowly open and settle on my frozen frame. I watch him register how little of my body is covered by Tilly’s pornographic bikini, his eyes taking their time travelling up my body.

‘Hi, Lottie. Nice bikini.’

I’m frozen, unable to respond as my skin breaks out in goosebumps from the chill air, and from seeing him again while wearing practically nothing. He shifts so he’s sitting taller and drapes his arms on the rim of the tub.

‘The hot tub’s big enough for two.’

That’s all he says, and I’m torn on whether to get in or grab my towel and hide in the sauna. I still haven’t moved when he speaks again.

‘Or I can leave if you’d like.’

‘No!’ I blurt out. ‘You were here first, so if anyone should leave it should be me.’

‘And what if I didn’t want you to?’

‘Then…’ I trail off, because I can’t think of how to finish my sentence.

Once again, he’s said something that leaves me floundering over my words. Because that was definitely flirting and I’m so woefully out of practice. Or maybe this is how he speaks to everyone. Maybe he’s a charming sort of guy. Lord, I have no idea.

One thing I do know is that if I don’t move soon, I’ll freeze, so I step over the lip, lower myself in, and finally manage to come up with something. ‘Then I’d say I’m sure we can both fit.’

I sink down so only the tops of my shoulders peek out, and the rest of me is covered by the blur of the bubbles.