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December 24
After an hour or two in the car, there’s one thing I always like to do the minute I get to the ski lodge. I make a beeline for their in-house gift shop/clothing boutique, for some new gear and clothing. Whether I need it or not.
But, luckily, this isn’t just about me this time. It’s about Mariah too, which gives me a reason to spend twice as much without offering any kind of apology to my dad.
I chuckle, watching Mariah wander helplessly through the tables and racks of clothing. She’s definitely out of her element here, and it shows. If there aren’t any books around, she doesn’t know where to look or where to put her hands. But she tries hard. And that’s what I love about her.
“So,” she says, fingering a fuzzy green sweater, “how was your date last night with Kyle?” I stiffen, remembering I had promised to tell her all about it. I also bragged to her about what Kyle and I would do. How good it was all going to be, and none of that happened.
I’m also not as much of an expert as I led her to believe. By my sides, my hands begin to sweat, even though they should still be cold from being outside. I can’t let her know I’m not the experienced one. Especially not when I know she’s looking to me for advice and guidance on those kinds of things.
Mariah turns to me expectantly. Probably to see why I haven’t answered her. I’m usually a lot more forthcoming and vocal.
“Was it good?” she asks quietly, walking toward me. There’s a twinkle in her eyes as she nears. “Was Kyle a stud or what? Did he tie you up and spank you raw?”
I don’t meet her eyes and busy myself with the rack of clothes nearest to me.
This one has thinner, more form-fitting sweaters in a lot of beautiful colors. Pink and blue, some silver/gray, and black. I finger through the individual pieces, searching for Mariah’s size. Mostly so I don’t have to look at her right away.
“Well, Kyle was…” I pluck out a large in baby blue and hand it to her. I try not to meet her gaze, but I can’t help it. She has such big doe eyes, I can’t avoid them. “He definitely wasn’t a stud,” I say, deciding that’s a safe thing to be honest about. “No experience or common sense to speak of.” I return my eyes to the sweater rack and pick out a pink and black in the same size.
As I hand them to her,she gives me a pitiful look and says, “Oh, no! That sucks!”
She hugs her sweaters to her chest and follows me as I move to another rack. This one actually has ski gear on it. Particularly ones for women, which are designed with a little bit more fur and flair than those for men. The kind of winter coats we’ll need on the slopes.
“Yeah, well, I’m glad I found out now rather than six months down the road,” I say, plucking out a white ski jacket with black faux fur lining the hood, sleeves, and interior. It’s big enough to fit over Mariah’s body even in a sweater. I hand it to her. “At least now I won’t waste my time.”
Mariah frowns, taking the coat from me and drapes it over the sweaters I’ve picked out for her.
“Still. I’m so sorry your date was a bust.”
On a nearby table, I find a matching pair of ski gloves. White with black fur trim. I hand those to her and go in search of a matching pair of ski pants. I don’t have to look far. The matching ski boots are under the table with the ski pants, so I grab her size.
“It’s fine,” I say with a shrug and hand her the boots and pants.
Momentarily, Mariah struggles to hold all the clothes, but she quickly manages to balance the growing pile. As I walk past her toward another row of tables with non-ski clothing, I add, “I handled myself when I got home, so I’m not starving if you know what I mean.”
From another table, I grab a cute hoodie sweater. One for each of us, in two different colors. One blue the other pink. “But” — I snatch up a few more cute shirts, mostly polo and baseball style, and get one of each in our respective sizes — “if a man happened to offer me a good meal and happen to know how to cook that meal without looking to me for direction, I could be hungry.” Unconsciously, I pick out a few more pieces of clothing for myself. Mostly to soothe my exasperation.
“Well,” says Mariah, coming around to face me, “like you always say, you just gotta keep your eye out. And your options open.” She smiles, and I hand her the other items I’ve picked out for her.
I hug my shirts close, stroking them for comfort.
“Maybe you can use this trip to put him out of your mind.” Mariah’s eyes are serious yet kind. Far more kind than I feel like I deserve. Especially when I’ve often made snarky references to her virginity, and her reluctance to lose it. “Who knows? You could find some hot ski instructor who knows more than just snow trails.” A blush colors her cheeks. “And then he could feed you that well-cooked meal you’re after.” She playfully sticks her tongue out at me. “I really need to develop your sophisticated palate when it comes to those meals,” she whispers then giggles. “My tastes tend to veer towards the blandest thing on the menu.”
I do my best to lighten my voice. “Sure,” I say, though I’ve given up finding a guy who’s worth my time. “But let’s just focus on you first, ‘kay?”
Because, even if you don’t find anyone to press all your buttons in the right way, you can just live vicariously through your friend, right? I let this thought darken my mind for a moment, but I soon shake it away.
Out of the corner of my eye, I notice a guy strolling around the store. Even from the side profile, he’s gorgeous, sexy even. Boyishly handsome like a Roman demigod, but strong-featured too. Just as he turns his head and notices me staring at him, I quickly look away and turn my attention to Mariah.
The hairs on the back of my neck prickle and I know the demigod is staring at me. I resist the temptation to look at him and shove Mariah toward the dressing rooms.
“Okay, you! Time for you to go in the dressing room and try all of that on.”
Mariah protests, but I just keep on shoving and walking.
“You’re gonna go in there, and find a few things you like and want, or everything,” I say. “I don’t care. My dad’s paying for it.”
Mariah continues her protesting, but I ignore her and open one of the dressing rooms. I shove her inside and hold the door closed until it locks.
“And no looking at the tags!” I warn, stepping away from the dressing rooms and back toward the ski gear.
Right when I’m about to make it back to the table with the coats and snow pants, Mr. Greek Demigod cuts across my path. Sure, he tries to make it look natural, but we both know he’s done it on purpose. He actually bumps into me a little bit. Shivers dance up and down my spine, and I wonder what would happen if his entire body bumped up against mine. My nipples like that idea and harden at the thought.
“Oh,” he says, bending down to pick up one of the polo shirts I’d dropped, “I’m so sorry.” He laughs nervously. Part an act, part actuality. “My coordination off the slopes sucks. Take me off the snow, and I’m helpless!”
“No worries,” I say, sweetly. “Thank you.” I take the sweater, and I can’t help but smile when I see him swallow hard. It’s as if he’s trying to swallow down his nerves.
Mr. Demigod clears his throat. “Doing some shopping before heading to the slopes?”
“A girl’s gotta look the part, right?”
“Well, if you wear any of that while you’re skiing, I’m sure you’ll be the star of the mountain,” he says, edging closer. “Those colors really accentuate your eyes…and hair.”
It’s obvious he’s being polite. Dodging what he really wants to say, but I think it’s cute. Kinda dorky, but cute. And genuine, unlike most guys I’ve had the misfortune of spending time with.
“Do you flirt with all the girls the gift shops?” I ask him playfully.
He blushes a delightful shade of red. “Just the ridiculously beautiful and fun ones,” he says. There’s something on the word “fun” that peaks my interest and dampens my pussy.
“Well, you’re good at it,” I inform him, suddenly very hungry.
He blushes again. Kinda odd for a guy, but again, kinda cute. Hot, actually. “So…” He clears his throat again, scratching the back of his neck. “I overheard something about you being hungry…”
I almost drop the pile of clothes clutched in my hands. Oh my God! Did he hear our conversation?
Before I can go into a full-on panic about what he might have and might not have heard, he says, “If you’re looking for a recommendation for a place to eat, may I recommend the café in the upstairs of the lodge?” He grins, seeming proud of himself.
Obviously, he doesn’t know that I’m a regular here, but I don’t care. The gesture’s a sweet one, and I’m enjoying flirting with him.
“Haven’t had a chance to eat there myself, but everyone tells me it’s ridiculous.” A pause. In his eyes, I see him debating whether to ask me to come join him or perhaps he’s thinking about something else entirely—like sating my hunger. A girl can hope. “If you’d like I can take you over there. Maybe even grab a…”
Right on cue, as if Mariah’s spirit can sense the pickup job happening outside the dressing room, she calls for me. “Jane,” she shouts and then grunts. “Jane! I… need some help…in here… with this…”
“Coming, Mariah!” I say. Turning back to Mr. Greek Demigod. “Thank you so, so much for the offer, but I gotta get back to my friend…” I jab haphazardly behind me with a thumb.
For a moment he looks surprised. Confused, but then understanding. But definitely more than a little disappointed at being turned down. “No worries.” He puts on a ridiculously cute smile for me. One that highlights a mysterious glow in his golden-brown eyes. Not quite wildcat, not quite precious gem. “I get it.” He jams his hands in his pockets, rocking back on his heels. “Well, maybe we’ll see each other around?”
“Jane!” Mariah really sounds like she’s about to suffocate in ski gear.
I glance back toward the dressing rooms. “Sure,” I say, “that’d be great.”
Mr. Greek Demigod chuckles. The most delicious chuckle in the history of the universe. “Great,” he says and backs up. “Looking forward to bumping into you again!”
I want to say you can bump anything into me anytime, but instead, I say, “You too.” I quickly turn on my heels and make for Mariah’s dressing room.
It’s only when I reach the door and ask how Mariah’s doing, that realize I didn’t ask that bit of magnificence his name.
Oh, fuck me, I think, helping unstick the lock on the door, and he was as sexy as heck too.