somewhat illegal to do this,
my mind screamed at me to give it a try “Okay, but…how steep is the
slope?”
“Don’t worry. I'm not doing a black one with
you. We’re going for an intermediate slope.”
The black ones, as the name itself implied,
were the advanced trails. Their spooky vertical angle was only for
people who enjoyed bloodcurdling speed. I couldn’t even imagine how
fast a tube could slide down a trail like that.
“Let’s do it.” I said.
Why not?
“You’re gonna love it.” He smiled.
Ski Apache had a large parking area, dotted
with several ponds of melted snow. Ticket booths, rental shops, ski
schools, bars and sport shops crowded the edges. Blue and yellow
gondolas moved up the colossal Sierra Blanca, drawing black rails
against the white snow on the mountain.
Many skiers were already leaving, which meant
it was definitely a good time to do this. At least it was until I
spotted a sharp orange car near a snow bank. My breath caught in my
throat. The sight knotted my stomach in thousand sturdy loops.
“No way,” I whispered to myself under Dean’s
loudmouth music. “No way.” It had to be Tristan’s. There wasn’t
another car like his around here—or anywhere for that matter.
Dean parked five spaces away from it,
boosting the heartbeats in my chest. The dearth of snow adventurers
made the probabilities of an uncomfortable encounter likely. That,
plus my one-million-dollar-worthy luck.
“Let’s go and take out the sleds,” Dean said
and climbed out. “We have to hurry.”
“Sleds?” I shook my head in confusion and
followed him. My worry was now in full bloom. “I thought we were
going to use tubes.”
“No.” He pulled open the trunk’s door. “It
would be too eye-catching.” He gave me a black plastic seat. “This
is better than a tube if you’re going for deep slides. Besides, how
were you planning to break?” He twisted the sled to show the steel
brakes underneath.
“Good point,” I admitted.
We headed to the blue chairlift, my boots
sloshing through water, until a thick layer of snow welcomed my
soles. A few skiers were still snaking down the trail on my right.
None of them Tristan. Maybe the stars were shinning on me and he
was on the other side of the mountain.
“Hey man, what’s up?” Dean said, slapping a
guy’s hand in a manly gesture.
The deal guy, I supposed.
“Cool man. Going for a slide?” he asked Dean,
looking at our sleds.
“Yeah, we’re going to use Elk line and…”
Dean’s voice faded as I turned my head and focused on my
surroundings. A glossy black snowboard with a bright green pattern
stood out in the middle of the snowy field.
Cool board.
I lifted my eyes to look at the person
holding it and…I couldn’t believe my eyes. I just couldn’t believe
it.
9. SKI
APACHE
It was Tristan, walking down to the parking
lot, looking like a snow-god. He glanced at me, as if somehow he’d
felt my gaze, and paralyzed me for a second. Then, face
expressionless, like a slab of ice, he looked away and headed to
his car.
He was gone a few seconds later.
I turned back to Dean, disturbed.
“—so don’t use the other one.” The guy was
advising Dean about something. “I'm stopping the lift after you, so
you better get going. The others have stopped already.” He pulled
up the safety bar of an awaiting chair.
“Sure,” Dean said, beckoning me with his
eyes. “Thanks, man.” He tapped the guy on the back.
I followed and sat on the icy surface.
“Have fun,” the guy said, pushing down the
frosty bar against us.
The deserted slopes looked freakily steep
from the chair, and every inch we moved up, the idea of sliding
became less appealing. But I knew a good adrenaline injection was
what my body needed in that moment.
“Ready?” Dean said, hauling up the safety bar
once we reached the top.
I nodded nervously.
“Go!” he shouted. We jumped off with the
sleds under our arms and ran to avoid the
my mind screamed at me to give it a try “Okay, but…how steep is the
slope?”
“Don’t worry. I'm not doing a black one with
you. We’re going for an intermediate slope.”
The black ones, as the name itself implied,
were the advanced trails. Their spooky vertical angle was only for
people who enjoyed bloodcurdling speed. I couldn’t even imagine how
fast a tube could slide down a trail like that.
“Let’s do it.” I said.
Why not?
“You’re gonna love it.” He smiled.
Ski Apache had a large parking area, dotted
with several ponds of melted snow. Ticket booths, rental shops, ski
schools, bars and sport shops crowded the edges. Blue and yellow
gondolas moved up the colossal Sierra Blanca, drawing black rails
against the white snow on the mountain.
Many skiers were already leaving, which meant
it was definitely a good time to do this. At least it was until I
spotted a sharp orange car near a snow bank. My breath caught in my
throat. The sight knotted my stomach in thousand sturdy loops.
“No way,” I whispered to myself under Dean’s
loudmouth music. “No way.” It had to be Tristan’s. There wasn’t
another car like his around here—or anywhere for that matter.
Dean parked five spaces away from it,
boosting the heartbeats in my chest. The dearth of snow adventurers
made the probabilities of an uncomfortable encounter likely. That,
plus my one-million-dollar-worthy luck.
“Let’s go and take out the sleds,” Dean said
and climbed out. “We have to hurry.”
“Sleds?” I shook my head in confusion and
followed him. My worry was now in full bloom. “I thought we were
going to use tubes.”
“No.” He pulled open the trunk’s door. “It
would be too eye-catching.” He gave me a black plastic seat. “This
is better than a tube if you’re going for deep slides. Besides, how
were you planning to break?” He twisted the sled to show the steel
brakes underneath.
“Good point,” I admitted.
We headed to the blue chairlift, my boots
sloshing through water, until a thick layer of snow welcomed my
soles. A few skiers were still snaking down the trail on my right.
None of them Tristan. Maybe the stars were shinning on me and he
was on the other side of the mountain.
“Hey man, what’s up?” Dean said, slapping a
guy’s hand in a manly gesture.
The deal guy, I supposed.
“Cool man. Going for a slide?” he asked Dean,
looking at our sleds.
“Yeah, we’re going to use Elk line and…”
Dean’s voice faded as I turned my head and focused on my
surroundings. A glossy black snowboard with a bright green pattern
stood out in the middle of the snowy field.
Cool board.
I lifted my eyes to look at the person
holding it and…I couldn’t believe my eyes. I just couldn’t believe
it.
9. SKI
APACHE
It was Tristan, walking down to the parking
lot, looking like a snow-god. He glanced at me, as if somehow he’d
felt my gaze, and paralyzed me for a second. Then, face
expressionless, like a slab of ice, he looked away and headed to
his car.
He was gone a few seconds later.
I turned back to Dean, disturbed.
“—so don’t use the other one.” The guy was
advising Dean about something. “I'm stopping the lift after you, so
you better get going. The others have stopped already.” He pulled
up the safety bar of an awaiting chair.
“Sure,” Dean said, beckoning me with his
eyes. “Thanks, man.” He tapped the guy on the back.
I followed and sat on the icy surface.
“Have fun,” the guy said, pushing down the
frosty bar against us.
The deserted slopes looked freakily steep
from the chair, and every inch we moved up, the idea of sliding
became less appealing. But I knew a good adrenaline injection was
what my body needed in that moment.
“Ready?” Dean said, hauling up the safety bar
once we reached the top.
I nodded nervously.
“Go!” he shouted. We jumped off with the
sleds under our arms and ran to avoid the
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