Page 56 of Head Over Skis

He chuckles, rocking on his heels and holding up his hands in a guilty surrender, and I’m glad he’s not trying to justify his actions.

‘And thanks for this,’ I add, nodding down at my arm, which has his number scribbled across it in black ink.

‘Anytime,’ he says.

I watch as he starts walking back towards his car, pausing when he reaches the driver’s seat. He stands with one hand on the door handle, the other resting on the car roof. His fingers drum against the top, and I’m about to head inside when he turns around.

‘How about tomorrow?’

I pause. ‘Tomorrow?’

‘Yeah, what are you doing after class?’

I think through the itinerary we put together as a group, racking my brain to remember whether there is a bar crawl or a piste party happening. I can’t think of any plans we’ve already made, but even if I’m free, should I lie and say I’m busy?

I told him I need some space, and less than a day isn’t the length of time I’d had in mind. Of course, we’ll be together in our lesson anyway, but agreeing to be alone, one-on-one, that feels like something more. Like a date. Despite my earlier words, the reply let’s do it sits on the tip of my tongue. But I take a breath to shut down the impulse and respond rationally instead.

‘Is it okay if I think about it?’

I wonder if he’ll act disappointed, or push me for a clear answer now, but he doesn’t do either.

‘Of course, take all the time you need. You’ve got my number, but either way, I hope you’ll be back in class.’

‘Wouldn’t miss it,’ I say, letting my bad ankle bear some more of my weight and realising it’s already feeling a lot better than this morning.

He smiles before getting inside his car, and I watch him watching me in the wing mirror as he drives away. I stay for a while after he’s disappeared, letting myself process everything and prepare for the mayhem that will ensue once I go back inside.

When I’m ready, or as ready as I’ll ever be, I head to the front door and peek through, listening out for the sounds of my friends. I walk into the kitchen, trying to avoid their notice, but as soon as my toes step across the threshold I look up to find four pairs of unblinking eyes staring at me. Thankfully none of which are Adam’s. Tilly is the first to break the silence as she leaps to her feet and rushes towards me.

‘Ahhhh I knew it, I knew it! I knew he would come over once I’d told him about your accident,’ she squeals, grabbing the tops of my arms and squeezing tight.

‘Careful, it’ll smudge,’ I yelp, which makes her acutely aware of what is written on my arm.

‘You can thank me now,’ she says, flicking her ponytail behind her as I try and free myself from her vice-like grip.

‘Fine. Thank you for the day, but also no thank you for the mess the end of the day has now created.’

She crosses her arms, eyes narrowed. ‘Well, it’s hardly my fault it took you all day to get into bed with him. It wouldn’t have been an issue if you’d shagged a little earlier. What were you doing all day?’

I match her body language and give her an equally sassy-toned response. ‘Talking, getting to know each other, you know, the typical things you do before sleeping with someone.’

‘You didn’t care much about knowing him before you shagged him the first time,’ she says back, and I can’t deny she has a point.

But that was different. That was a whim, a one-time thing. An ‘I’m never going to see this person again so what’s the point in knowing the deep stuff’ situation.

But now I have seen him again, and I’m being presented with even more chances to see him. Although who knows what will happen at the end of this holiday when I’m on a plane and he’s still here.

‘Hold on.’ Lucas steps out from the clump the others have made and rubs a hand over his forehead. ‘What does she mean “the first time”? Have you and this ski guy met before?’

The rest of us stand awkwardly as Lucas swings his gaze from one of us, to the other. ‘Tilly?’

‘Okay, fine. I was out with her that night, and so I’ve known since we heard his name and saw him in his sexy ski suit,’ she says.

‘Woah, back-track a second,’ David chimes in. ‘Are we talking about the night I think we are? Is he the hunk you cry-shagged?’

I cover my face with my hands and groan, trying to burn out that memory. ‘Can we not revisit that, please? But yes, it’s the same guy.’

David’s mouth hangs open like he’s trying to catch a hundred flies, while Lucas continues walking around in endless circles.