Rm w/a Vu(133)

“I figured you might. Besides, I wouldn’t be able to bring myself to push you anyway,” he tells me with a wink.

Feeling a little nervous—because I’m sure I’m about to wipe out and make a total ass out of myself—I cross the room, telling myself that as long as I don’t have to slide a long distance, I should be fine. Sadly, I know that what I want to do and what’s actually going to happen are going to be two totally different things. This is going to be interesting.

I take a deep breath and hold it as I take a few quick strides across the hardwood floor and then turn to the side. My right foot taking the lead as I slide toward Greyston. I’m pleasantly surprised when I stay on my feet and don’t stumble at all. A small victory—yet one still worthy of celebrating—for sure.

“Okay. Right foot it is,” Greyston declares, holding my jacket open for me to put on. “I always knew you were a little goofy.”

My jaw drops. I’m not sure what to think or how to defend myself, not that I’m given the chance, because Greyston leans forward and kisses my cheek. “It’s a term used for those whose lead foot is their right.”

“Well, it’s a horrible term,” I argue somewhat childishly, zipping my jacket up. “What foot do you lead with?”

“My left.”

“So, if I’m goofy, then what the hell are you?” I ask, truly curious.

Greyston shrugs. “Leading with your left is considered regular. But that’s not to say that any one way is more normal than the other. It’s no different than being right- or left-handed. They just have odd terminology for it.”

Accepting Greyston’s explanation, I slip my boots on before grabbing my ski pants, mittens, and knitted hat, and we head out to the car. The cold air shocks me, rendering me momentarily breathless when I inhale. I can’t get to the car fast enough as the cool air cuts through my jeans and nips at my bare face. Greyston treats it as though it’s no big deal, which makes me feel like a total wuss.

“You’ll acclimate quickly,” he assures me, opening my door for me. After I’ve settled in my seat, he closes it and gets behind the wheel.

My teeth are chattering slightly, and even though I’m already in the slightly warmer vehicle, I pull my hat and mittens on. “Are you telling me you’re already used to this?”

Greyston laughs. “Not exactly, but I’ve experienced colder stays here when I was younger, so I know things could be worse.” He reaches over and places a hand on my knee. “You’ll warm up as soon as we get moving. Trust me.”

We drive to the resort and park the car. Greyston and I grab our things and head into the main building to meet Gemma and Dom, only to find she’s alone. She smiles widely upon spotting us.

“Oh, good, you’re here.” She hands me the board she’s been holding. “Juliette, I brought this for you to use today. No sense shelling out money for a rental if you don’t have to, right?”

“Definitely,” I agree. “Thanks.”

Greyston looks around. “Where’s Dom? I thought he was joining us. I was looking forward to meeting him.”

Gemma shrugs, rolling her eyes. “Oh, he had some stuff to do today around town. I’m hoping he’ll be able to join us for dinner. I think you’ll really like him.” Something feels off, but the ring on her left finger tells me I’m being ridiculous.

After renting my boots and buying a pair of goggles, the three of us head outside. Gemma offers to come with Greyston and me to the beginner hill, but I decline. I don’t need more witnesses to what’s sure to go down on that hill—me, and not in the kinky sex way that I like. No. I imagine something straight out of a cartoon where I fall and roll so fast that I form a giant snowball. While I’m sure the chances of that are near impossible, there’s a part of me that feels confident that if it’s going to happen to anyone, it’ll be me.

Gemma tells us to have fun, then heads off to the lift while Greyston and I put our ski pants and boarding boots on. Once we’re ready, we head for the beginner hill, but before we hit the lift to take us up, Greyston kneels before me, taking my board and flipping it the right way around before asking me to step onto it. Turns out Gemma is “goofy” too, which makes me feel a little more confidant. Once my right foot is in the binding, he attaches what he calls “the leash,” and explains that it’ll prevent a runaway board in the event of a wipeout.

I laugh. “In the event of?” I parrot. “You realize that there’s no question about it, right? I’m going to wipe out. Several times, in fact.”