Page 5 of Head Over Skis

‘Did I drag you away from something?’ I ask, trying to peer in the same direction.

‘No, I was heading home from my friend Kevin’s place. We flew back for the week for his dad’s sixtieth birthday, but I’d already called it a night when I, uh…’ he trails off.

‘Artfully decorated my top with Coke?’ I finish for him.

‘That’s one way to put it, yeah,’ he chuckles. ‘Do you need me to call you a cab? I’m not sure where you were heading, but it’s late and you probably shouldn’t be walking there alone. London and all.’

‘Is that your way of telling me you want me to leave already?’ I ask, meaning it as a joke.

His expression stays cool as he takes in the way I’m sitting, the bend of my legs off the edge of the bed causing his shirt to hitch higher, leaving my red mini skirt peeking out of the bottom. The muscles of his jaw tense, and I take it as another hint that he’s feeling the same energy in the air that I am. It’s like something snapped when I looked up at him in the street, and that feeling of curiosity, that pull, has stayed there lingering between us since.

‘Is that your way of saying you want to stay?’

His question and the way his voice deepens when he asks it feels like confirmation, and it sends my head spinning. Am I really going to do this? Am I reading the message behind his question right, or are we on totally different pages? His calm demeanour makes me feel like a floundering fish as I try to come up with something flirty to say back, but in the end it’s the truth that spills from my lips.

‘To be honest, the thing I was going to do with my evening was try and find a hot guy so I could have my first one-night stand and hopefully stop getting in my own head about how awful the next two weeks are going to be.’

A sensible person would stop there, after that already TMI response, especially since I’m not sure I’ve landed on the right side of the confident vs desperate line. But despite how sober I now feel, I want to blame the four Jägerbombs and two double vodka lemonades from earlier for preventing me from being sensible. And I have no idea how people go about one-night stands. Are you supposed to be super direct like this? How else am I supposed to know what’s going on here if I don’t take matters into my own hands?

I push ahead, knowing I’ve gone past the point of no return and finding comfort in the fact that whatever happens, I’ll never see him again after tonight anyway. I’ve got nothing to lose.

‘What do you say, stranger?’

3

Nothing. That’s what he says.

For what feels like an hour, he says nothing. Just stands there looking at me, and now I’m scared it’s not in a sexy ‘feeling me up with his eyes’ kind of way, and more like he thinks I’m the craziest person he’s ever met. Time to activate escape number two of the night.

‘Okay, well don’t sound too enthusiastic about it. Forget I said anything, and I’ll be on my way. Thanks again for your help,’ I say, pushing off the bed and taking long strides to the door. I decide in this moment I care more about leaving quickly than getting my top back, considering that it’s likely ruined anyway.

Only I’m forced to stop when I collide with his arm, which he’s thrust out to the side to block my exit. His expression is unreadable as his teeth bite at the inside of his cheek. He opens his mouth like he might be about to speak, but then he drops his head, slowly rolling his neck until he’s directing his words at the ceiling.

‘This was… not where I was expecting my evening to go.’

He bends his head down towards me, and there’s a new intensity to those brown eyes that makes me think he might be considering it. He squeezes them shut, and I feel the moment breaking, but then a tortured groan ripples from his throat.

‘Fuck it,’ he says, shaking his head before it dips down towards me, and I don’t register what’s happening until his lips crash into mine.

I kiss him back, and then it’s all a blur as he moves me backwards, his hands wrapping around my thighs as he lifts me up onto the chest of drawers I was leaning against only a few minutes ago, the handles rattling when he lowers me down. He steps in closer, his knee pushing my legs apart until he’s positioned between them, while his mouth moves from my lips to my neck. Teeth grazing the bottom of my ear.

‘I—’ I try to speak but my voice cracks as he kisses the skin at the top of my collarbone.

‘I never asked your name,’ I manage to get out.

His tongue sweeps over the sensitive patches of my skin before he pulls away enough for me to see his face.

‘Rory,’ he says, unwrapping one of his hands from my legs so he can shift backwards, presenting me with a view of his sadly still clothed torso. ‘And you are?’

‘Lottie,’ I say, my voice coming out all fluttery as I take in what’s happening right now, and where it’s likely going next.

‘Lottie.’ He says the two syllables slowly, and everything becomes still as we take a second to consider the new knowledge of the other’s name. The moment hangs between us, sweet, but I begin to grow impatient for more.

‘Now can you please go back to what you were doing a second ago, although preferably with less clothing?’

I playfully pull at the bottom of his T-shirt, a grey one in the same style as the one I’ve borrowed. He obliges, tugging it off in one go, exposing his bare chest.

‘Oh my god,’ I say as soon as the shirt hits the floor, no filter between my thoughts and what comes out of my mouth.