Page 83 of Head Over Skis

When the boys finally return, we order pizzas and conversation stills while we all dig into the heaven that is cheesy carbs. A hand brushes against the fabric of my leggings under the table.

Rory’s warm fingers lie gently on my leg, and it’s only something small, but it’s a moment I want to hold onto. That singular rush when you’re falling for someone and every little thing they do becomes the most exciting thing in the world.

Those fingers start to press down, massaging up near my hip bone in slow circles before sliding down to the sides of my thighs. I try to keep my face neutral as I turn to Rory, who only shrugs, his face remaining innocent while his hands threaten to be the opposite.

‘Relax, I’m just massaging your muscles. You worked hard out there today.’

I smile, thinking over today’s runs and how the movement felt easy, almost natural. I sigh in relief as Rory works out the tension in my quads. ‘Thank you.’

He releases one hand to reach over and steal a piece of pizza from my plate, and as he does, he leans down so his mouth rests at my ear. ‘Trust me, my intentions for keeping you from being sore are purely selfish.’

His fingers tiptoe up my body, reaching the band of my leggings where it’s hidden by my jacket.

It’s at that moment that Tilly yelps. I’m convinced we’ve been caught, but her gaze isn’t fixed on us. It’s staring in panic at the clock that hangs behind the bar.

‘Shit, we’re going to miss it, everyone abandon ship!’

She slings back the rest of her drink, grabbing a slice of pizza before heading for the door and Meghan pulls a confused-looking Lucas behind her. I realise the boys don’t know what’s going on, and David and Adam make no move to leave the remainder of our food and drinks until I clap my hands in front of them.

‘Come on, you two, hustle! We can’t miss this!’

I don’t hang around, grabbing Rory’s hand and running with him to the door, those left behind following despite my lack of explanation. But there isn’t time, because we’ve got three minutes to go. The slope is blessedly empty, almost as if the whole resort knew to give way to the two skiers who are currently making their way down together.

Don’t fall, don’t fall, I chant in my head as I watch Stephen zigzagging through the snow, his boyfriend at his side. Although perhaps no longer his boyfriend, hopefully now…

‘He said yes!’ Stephen yells the words as he comes to a stop just in front of where we’ve all huddled, throwing his arms up and nearly taking his now-fiancé out with his poles in the meantime.

‘I did, although I was so surprised I almost didn’t remember to. I didn’t even think you could ski, babe, let alone so well!’

We all cheer as the happy couple embraces, before Stephen gestures for Rory to come over so he can introduce him as the man behind his newly developed talent. They talk for a while, before Stephen and Patrick go off for what I imagine will be a very romantic rest of their day together. Rory lingers, looking at the still-empty slope before grabbing my hand and turning to address the rest of the group.

‘Anyone up for one more?’

‘No.’

‘Oh come on, you can do this,’ Rory replies, hands massaging my shoulders as he looks at the slope he’s brought us to.

‘No, I’m fairly certain I can’t.’

There was a resoundingly positive response to Rory’s suggestion that we do one final run of the day, and what’s even better is we seem to be the only ones left skiing on the mountain. Something that is now striking me as increasingly suspicious.

‘The slope that Stephen went down was so empty. Do you think that was just luck?’

He doesn’t answer my question, but the avoidance is enough to confirm my suspicions. Being a stakeholder really does have some uses.

‘You’re just a big romantic, aren’t you?’ I joke, knocking my shoulder against his, and Rory’s face pinches as he shakes his head too quickly.

‘It was all Kevin’s idea.’

‘Yeah, right,’ I scoff.

The fact Rory had cleared the entire slope so he could make that moment perfect for Stephen only makes me fall for him more, and I find comfort in the fact I’m no longer trying to deny or hide my feelings. Now my friends get to reap the benefits too, as I watch them group off and start weaving their way down the blissfully clear red run.

All of them except, of course, me.

Rory shifts so he’s in front of me, hands moving to stroke the loose strands of my braids as he brings his face close to mine. ‘Why don’t you think you can do it?’

Because I don’t want to, I almost say, but that feels silly.