evie

I’m not sure I’ve ever been so miserable in my life.

Today is day three since me and Dash’s hate-fest-fuck-a-palooza and we were still desperately trying to rid ourselves of whatever poison was consuming us.

The first day, we’d tried avoiding each other again, but the same incessant need bubbled up resulting in a quickie with me bent over the kitchen counter while Mason drove my mom to the store in town.

Yesterday, we’d tried leaving the cabin in the hopes that being surrounded by other people would help, but our results were still the same. Not only had we defiled a bathroom in a gift shop while we were out, Dash had slipped into my bed at three this morning when everyone else was asleep.

Today, I wake defeated, the ache between my thighs a shameful reminder of my epic failure to resist temptation behind enemy lines.

I’m sleeping with Dash Hunter.

It’s all downhill from here.

I roll over onto my stomach, burying my face into my pillow and releasing a small groan as his scent fills my lungs, the rush of arousal into my belly making me furious.

I’m so screwed.

I’ve resolved to lock myself in my bedroom for the rest of the trip, feigning altitude poisoning, crabs… whatever it takes. Unfortunately, my stomach didn’t get the memo and hunger pulls me from my bed with a sigh.

Whatever. Maybe a mountain lion will find its way in and put me out of my misery.

I pad toward the doorway, resting my forehead against the cool wood in silent defeat for a few minutes before silently emerging, the smell of coffee calling to me.

Just one cup.

I slip downstairs, surprised to find the house empty. A quick glance at the clock explains why and I curse myself for sleeping so late before realizing it doesn’t matter.

“Probably better this way,” I sigh as I move toward the coffee pot. “At least I can wait for death in peace.”

“You know, talking to yourself is a sign of neurosis.”

I glance over my shoulder, finding Dash in jeans and a t-shirt, drying his wavy hair with a towel.

“Tip of the iceberg, my friend.”

“Aww, what’s the matter, pitchfork? Rough night?”

“Oh, shut up,” I narrow my eyes as I move toward the couch, sinking into the cushions.

I switch on the television set, leaving it on something random and letting my thoughts fade. A few minutes later, I feel the couch dip beside me and I glance over to find him studying me.

“What?”

“Why do you come up here if you don’t like skiing?”

“Why do you think? To spend time with my family,” I answer. “Besides, I do like to ski. The lift here is just really high. What if I fall?”

“Then you fall,” he shrugs. “No big deal.”

“It’s a big deal if I die, Dash,” I argue. “Haven’t you ever seen that movie, Frozen?”

“What? The Disney thing with the two chicks?” he laughs, looking at me crazy. “No, I definitely missed that one.”

“No, not that one,” I roll my eyes. Idiot. “The one where they get stuck on the ski lift in the middle of the snowstorm and have to jump out and the guy breaks his…”

“I’m gonna stop you right there,” he cuts me off, shaking his head and taking a sip from his cup. “No, I haven’t seen it, but I can tell you that you’re being completely over-dramatic. I’ve been an adrenaline junkie since I was a teenager and I’ve never seen any of that shit happen to anyone.”

“Well, if you haven’t seen the movie, you don’t get an opinion,” I say with resolve, redirecting my attention to the screen. “You wanna go up into the air and plummet to your death, by all means, you do what makes you happy, Dash.”

“You’re incredibly uptight,” he muses. “Do you know why I do all that shit?”

“Because you’re not very smart and have absolutely no regard for personal preservation?”

“No, smartass,” he shakes his head, flipping me off and making me smirk. “Because it helps remind me that there’s shit out there bigger than me.”

“You need to hang off the side of a cliff to remind yourself you’re not the center of the universe and have the nerve to call me self-involved?”

“Come on,” he ignores my dry remark, gesturing for me to get up. “You need to get rid of some of that nervous energy you’ve got before you go all Jack Torrence from The Shining up here.”

“I really don’t want to,” I shake my head, knowing it’s only a half truth.

I’d been itching to get out on the slopes since we arrived, the only thing stopping me my fear of the lifts. However, I didn’t think spending more time with the current bane of my existence would help my situation even a little bit. If anything, him being nice to me would only making things worse.

“I’ll go with you,” he pulls at my thoughts. “If we get stuck, I’ll even let you eat me to survive.”

“Eww,” I say, my nose scrunching up in disgust as he chuckles. “Why do you want me to go? Why do you care?”

“I don’t know,” he lies, searching my eyes for a moment before looking down at his cup and taking the last sip.

“Well, I’m not going unless you give me a better reason than that.”

“Fine,” he sighs, taking a step toward me. “I think you need to pull that stick outta your ass.”

“Forget it,” I grumble, looking back down at my book. “If it means not spending the day with you, I’ll keep the stick.”

“That’s not all,” he shakes his head, pulling my eyes back. “This morning after I went back to my room, I remembered something from that night at the hotel,” he says quietly, making my cheeks blaze as my eyes dart back up to his. “Wanna know what it was?”

“Not at all.”

“Come on, Evie. I know you’ve been thinking about it,” he says, his lips turning up into a suggestive smirk.

“I have not,” I lie, feigning interest in the screen.

“Ah, baby, don’t be like that,” he husks, sending my cheeks blazing. “Besides, you know that I know what you look like when you’re all hot and bothered,” he counters, making me curse myself silently when I absentmindedly begin to chew on my lip as my toes begin to curl beneath the blanket I’m hiding under. “And I can tell it’s just eatin’ you up right now.”

I swallow hard, doing my best to keep my eyes from fluttering at the low pitch of his voice, the way his words send a chill through me, making my body ache with need.

“You’re an idiot,” I manage, clearing my throat to hide the break before I face him. “And you’re also wrong, Dash. I don’t care what you remembered. I really just wish we could stop talking about it.”

“So, what I remembered is that you put too much pressure on yourself to be perfect all the time,” he ignores me, angling himself to face me further as I stifle an eye roll. “You know, maybe if you’d do something fun every once in a while, you wouldn’t be so fucking horrible, ya know?”

“Oh, my God! You are such a dick,” I shake my head, finally sitting up further to face him from my end of the couch. “That’s the nicest thing you have to say to me?”

“I thought you didn’t want to talk about it,” he teases, the corners of his lips turning up slightly.

“I don’t,” I reply. “But if you’re going to force your disgusting thoughts on me anyway, you could at least come up with something better than that bag of crap.”

“Fine. I just rubbed one out in the shower thinking about your nipples,” he says easily, holding my eyes and making my face heat once more. “Are we going or what?”

“You’re so gross,” I insist, pulling a low chuckle from his chest. “I really hate you sometimes.”

“I know, baby,” he croons as he leans back triumphantly in his seat, winking at me. “How bad to you want to stop talking about this?”

“Desperately,” I admit.

“You got it,” he shrugs, making me eye him suspiciously. “Just come on the lift with me once and I’ll let you come back here and wallow.”

“Really?”

“Swear,” he nods, his eyes surprisingly earnest. “But if you don’t come with me, I’m gonna keep talking to you about masturbation and that stick in your ass.”

“Fine,” I sigh. What a pain in the ass this guy is, I think to myself as I shake my head in exhaustion and lift from the couch. “I’ll come with you, but I swear to God if I die, I’m gonna be so fucking mean to you in the afterlife.”

“That’ll be a real change,” he snorts sarcastically. “How will I recognize you if you aren’t showering me with compliments?”

“I’m serious, Dash. I’ll spend eternity making sure you don’t have any fun at all,” I warn him. “And you can forget being one of those pervy, shower-lurking ghosts. I’ll trap you in the DMV or jury duty for a million years.”

“Might be worth it if it’ll shut you the hell up for ten minutes,” he counters. “Besides, it’ll only feel like an eternity.”