“I have total faith in you,” Jack monotones, like an apathetic life coach. Neither Jack nor the Tan Man respects my protests, and soon, Jack is handing over Katherine’s credit card and I’m standing outside in the snow on skis. Jack tells me to move so that we’re not blocking the main path.

If by “move” she means wobble and flail my arms like a cartoon character slipping on a banana peel, then I succeed beautifully in meeting her demands. Before I go crashing down into the snow, Jack’s free arm reaches out to steady me. I don’t realize just how close she is until her arm is secured around my waist, strong and warm.

“This is dangerous,” I tell her. By “this,” I mean skiing. Obviously skiing.

Jack immediately releases her hold around my waist. “Skiing is perfectly safe.”

“It is absolutely not safe,” I counter, shaking the metal poles with the pokey ends. “I think you want me to impale myself.”

Jack shrugs. “If you impale yourself, it will solve some of my problems, but it will also create several new ones, and ultimately, I don’t think it would be worth the hassle.”

“People die while skiing all the time,” I insist. “Natasha Richardson died while skiing! Why would anyone want to partake in the activity that robbed the world of Natasha Richardson?”

I’m anxiety spiraling a bit, and it probably has nothing to do with either skiing or Natasha Richardson, and probably more to do with twenty minutes ago, when Jack said we should stop spending time together. Or twelve hours ago, when she kissed me within an inch of my life.

She impatiently shoves her fists into her coat pockets. “I promise you won’t die while skiing today.”

“You can’t promise that.”

“Well, I don’t think you’re going to tackle any advanced runs on your first skiing excursion, so yeah, I kind of can. Plus, you’ve got this super-cute helmet.” She knocks on my giant black helmet three times.

“What if I fall over?”

“You will. Probably lots of times. And I will honestly probably enjoy watching it.” The tiniest hint of a smile curls in the corner of Jack’s mouth. I think I’m going to fall over right now.

“Everyone falls their first time,” she says. “Hell, I’ll fall at least once today, and I’ve been skiing my whole life.”

“Why would anyone want to do something you’re guaranteed to fail at it?”

“I said fall, not fail. It is literally impossible to fail at skiing.”

“Unless you die,” I say.

“Unless you don’t try.”

“Wow. Always a living, breathing motivational poster.”