Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 93942 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 313(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93942 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 313(@300wpm)
5
ZOE
“How do I get on this thing?” The bench-like seats of the chairlift were moving at an alarming speed.
Kai returned from inside the little building after starting the lift. “You sit. Surely you’ve done that before?”
I rolled my eyes, which hopefully he couldn’t see because of the goggles. “Not with chairs that move.” Why did they have to move that fast? ”Can’t you turn it off again? Then I can get on it while it’s not moving.”
He moved effortlessly toward me, his long skis gliding through the snow. Unlike mine. If I’d thought the boots were clunky, that was nothing compared to having six-foot-long boards attached to your feet.
Kai chuckled. “But then I’d have to go start it again, and you’d be lifted away without me.” He’d already told me that when more guests arrived, an attendant would run the chairlift.
“So? I won’t fall off.” Probably.
“Yeah, but I have to get you off at the top.” He paused a moment, as if playing back his words in his head. Then he gave me a crooked but cocky grin. “So to speak.”
He stepped into the path of the next chair. “It’s easy.” He sat down just as the base of the chair was about to hit the back of his knees. It swept him forward, and he hopped off before it could carry him up the mountain. “You try.”
My stomach gave a painful little flop. If I tried that, I’d fall off and go sprawling at his feet. Or get tangled up in the cable and strangle myself. At this point, I didn’t know which scenario was worse. I hated this. It was my senior year. Soon, I’d be working in a resort like this for real. Making decisions. Making guests happy—like I should be doing today. Instead, I was spending the morning learning how to walk and sit.
Kai came right up to me, one of his skis sliding between my own. “Come on, I’ll help.”
He reached for my gloved hands. Great… I was holding hands with the hottest guy I’d ever seen, and I couldn’t even feel his fingers through the layers of padding and insulation between us. “Sidestep,” he said, moving his ski to my left, toward the chairlift. I did the same with my left foot, lifting the ski just enough to clear the ground.
He brought his right foot over a few inches and then waited until I copied him. When he smiled up at me, his teeth were nearly as white as the snow. “See? It’s just like dancing.”
“Dancing in the Arctic Circle,” I muttered. But the thought of dancing with him, being held in his arms, was certainly more appealing than dwelling on how stupid I felt.
“Whatever floats your boat. Come on, keep sidestepping.”
We continued our awkward baby steps until the long, bench-like chairs drifting by were only inches away. Kai pushed back from me, dropping my hands. When he was clear, he turned those piercing blue eyes on me. “There’s just one more thing to do. When I tell you to, take a big step to your left. Then all you have to do is lean back. Let the chair come up under you. It’ll do the work, easy as pie.”
Easy for him. Not for me. My body trembled in way that had nothing to do with the cold. But I nodded. What else could I do? It was the only way to get this over with. And whether I succeeded or died trying, it would put me that much closer to the end of the lesson.
Quickly and gracefully, he turned around and stepped into the path of the next chair, sitting down and then sliding over to give me space. “Now, Zoe!”
I tried. I really did. I took a step to my left, but it wasn’t far enough. The damn chair seemed to speed up, and the armrest hit me in the butt, causing me to yelp and jump to the side. I didn’t move the heavy skis fast enough and I overbalanced. My face hit the ground, the ski goggles pressing painfully against my skin and snow burning my mouth and nose.
The stupid chairlift continued on, sweeping Kai along with it, but he hopped off and skied back to me, offering me a hand up.
Face flushed, I got on all fours, spitting snow out of my mouth. Then I took his hand, prepared to heave myself up, but he lifted me easily.
There was a neutral expression on his face, but I could see through it. He was trying not to laugh.
“Am I the worst ski student you’ve ever had?” I asked as he checked to make sure the skis were still attached properly. I hated the fact that I sounded like a grumpy child.
“Maybe I’m the worst ski instructor you’ve ever had.” He winked as he straightened back up.