She was not sure about this. Actually, she was about as far as one could be from sure. The sensation of sweat forming on her brow tickled, and it fogged her goggles. The mere fact that she was warm was something she was not prepared for. After all, she was standing well over five thousand feet above sea level on a mountain covered in 20 inches of brand new snow. She should be cold, right?
After all after alls, that was what she had come prepared for, dressed in purple skiing pants, and a matching jacket, along with gloves that were right now cooking her fingers as she wrapped them around the ski poles. The boots were the one thing that did not match, being a rather faded light blue. She had taken off her fleece skullcap earlier, to avoid the now returning sweat. She would have taken off the goggles, too, but she had tried that yesterday at the bottom of the hill and the brightness of the sun in the snow had taught her a quick lesson. She sighed, and looked around. Here she was in the snow paradise she had always wanted for Christmas, and the sun was beating down like she was still in south Florida. Typical.
Her mother was next to her, dressed in her own snow ensemble, and looking just as unsure about this course of action as her daughter. They were surrounded by the other five members of their skiing class, all now lined up along the top of "Burnt Stew Trail", looking at the teacher as if she was crazy.
And Sarah, the instructor for this all female class clearly was very serious. "Now ladies, remember what we talked about. This is an easy run; we'll take it nice and slow, all the way down. I'll be in the front, and we'll stop a couple of times to make sure that everybody is having a good time!" Sarah looked like a snow bunny. Her one piece ski suit was in the colors of the ski-school, and seemed to hug her body. She had the tan of somebody that worked the slopes, her lips white with balm, black hair in a pony tail, and designer goggles. "Let's go!"
Sarah turned and pushed herself down the slope, slowly building speed. One by one the class mimicked the motion. They each pushed off with their poles, and followed her, forming a line that snaked its way downhill, mixing with the seemingly endless mass of snow goers.
Her turn came, and she twisted her hips into it the way they had practiced at the bottom on the bunny trails, and listened to the sound of the snow crunching under her skis. She loved that sound. It was a rather enjoyable pastime, even to somebody like her, who was in her second day of skiing. Her mother had won this trip and so she found herself on the ski slopes instead of the beach during spring break of her senior year. It was not what she had wanted, but she was enjoying herself. And like her best friend back home had said, there were bound to be some cute guys here. And like always, Jamie had been right. But still, for somebody who had turned 18 just two month ago, this was an anticlimatic introduction to being an adult.
One of the things she had learned was that you had to be aware of what was in front of as well as behind you while gliding across the snow, and so while looking around she caught a glimpse of fast movement in her back, arcing out wide and coming back in. She heard the distinct carving sound of a snowboard behind her, and then suddenly a form raced between her and the woman in front of her. The boarder reached out, almost touching her, as he shot passed and carved back around ahead of Sarah.
Her eyes followed the form, committing it to memory without thinking about it. He had been tall, probably at least six feet, dressed in the heavy, baggy black snowboarding pants so popular with those that enjoyed that sport. He had recently shaved his head, and was wearing black goggles. The hand that reached for her was clad in a thick black glove, as was the one that braced him for possible impact with the snowy world. And she was certain that he wanted to avoid that. Because the most interesting feature about him was that he was not wearing a shirt. She could see the sweat glisten on his chest. Or maybe she just imagined that. But her eyes followed him down the hill, and she almost ran into Mrs. Litham, who must have been watching him as well, as she slowed down considerably.
"Cute, huh?" The older lady did not bother with anything but sunglasses, which at this moment gave her big grin a truly comical appearance.
"Yes, cute."
It was crowded at the restaurant/gift store/lift station/what else can we fit in here? that was the base of the mountain. Of course, it was lunch time, which was always prime time for crowding, and so it took them a bit to put up their skis, and link up with her father and brother. They had been attending their own class, and had the healthy glow of people who had enjoyed themselves. She felt the same way, but her mother had already made it clear that after lunch she was headed back to the hotel to rest and recoup. She smiled, happy that at least mom had enjoyed skiing, as they headed inside to find a table.
It was even more crowded inside, with the mass of people pushing towards the couple of lines that lead into the buffet area. All this was not helped by the fact that most present wore ski-boots and the bulky clothing that was designed to keep them warm and dry, even though the temperature outside was climbing in the sun. People were creaking up and down the stairs, squeezing in and out of elevators, some still even using the payphones, others in the designated cellphone area (she liked that one), all yapping away, while still others were so lucky to already have food and tables, and seemed to be actually enjoying themselves.
"I'm going back to the hotel. I bet there is no line at my phone for room service." Her mother turned on her boot, which was a considerable effort, and headed back out the door in the slow robotic motion of those sore from skiing, and new to the sport. Her father looked after her for a second, then pulled two bills out of his pocket, handing each of his offspring one. "Feed yourself, you think you can handle that?" Her brother murmured something under his breath, then disappeared into the crowd. Heaven forbid he be seen with his older sister. She realized then that she stood alone in the line, and shuffled along with it.
"What's up?"
Well, the loneliness did not last long, as she turned to face the guy who had walked up next to her. It was him. He was now wearing a white long sleeve t-shirt, in keeping with the "shirt/shoes/service" policy, and had added a baseball cap worn backwards to his outfit, the goggles slipped up his arm in a fashionable gesture. Her mouth opened slightly, but nothing came out, as she looked into brown eyes that seemed to go on forever.
He leaned down, his shoulder touching hers, his voice a hoarse whisper. "You don't mind if I hop in line with you, do you?" She could only shake her head, and a big grin spread across his face. "Thanks. Saw you out there on the slope earlier. First time skiing?" Again, she could only nod, folding her arms in front of herself for no other reason then the fact that he was doing it. "Yeah, I started in skiing. Good fun." He was still smiling, as they went through the standard routine of how old, how do you like the resort, and all the other standard banter that so easily shapes back and forth between those that are young, with raging hormones, and sharing an obvious attraction. Finally they reached the check out station, paid, and she suddenly realized that he was about to walk away from her.
"So where are you going to sit?"
"Uhm...I don't know..."
"Cool. Come sit with me." He grabbed her tray, turned, and walked back outside, all the way to the end of the terrace, where his backpack was sitting on a chair next to a small table. She started to say something, but was rather glad. The boots were giving her somewhat of problem walking, and this way she did not risk the embarrassment of spilling it everywhere in front of him. He thanked the family at the next table for watching his stuff, high fived the little kid, then pulled her chair out for her. They sat, beginning the slow verbal dance that flirting tourists at their first meeting always go through. He steered clear of the obvious questions like where she was from, and if she had a boyfriend, and she seemed to appreciate that. He told her about his love of skiing and snowboards, and she told him about her terror at looking down the mountain the first time. They were almost done eating when she finally worked up the courage to ask the question that had been burning in the pit of her stomach ever since she saw him in line.
"So why did you try to touch me?"
"Seemed like the thing to do at the time. Gotta pull stunts to get a girls attention, you know?" He shrugged, and smiled at her again. "Lots of competition out there, you gotta set yourself apart from the pack."
"I think you did that well enough, shirt off and all."
"Yeah...well, you can understand that."
