I glug it down, wincing at the taste as I hurry out. It’s snowed overnight, and six fluffy inches cover the pavement. Cars crawl down the main street, snow chains jingling like sleigh bells. I notice the decorations in the shop windows, the lights strung overhead. And realize suddenly that it’s Christmas Eve. I always lose track of time during my winters. The riding is all that matters.

Back at my tiny apartment, I throw on my snowboard gear, stuff a few muesli bars into my jacket pocket, and hurry out again. It crosses my mind that Saskia might have spiked my coffee, but I would taste it and she must realize I’m not that stupid.

Nerves flit in my stomach as I jog down the street with my snowboard under my arm toward the cable car station. I feel strangely like I’m going on a date. Will it be just me and her?

The sun’s rays are slanting over the summits, tinting the slopes orange. Saskia is sitting on the top rail of the wooden fence, swinging her boots, with a cup in either hand. I hang back. Do I kiss her, hug her, or what? Why am I so nervous?

She jumps up and settles for a single kiss, lips warm on my cheek in the freezing morning air. Her perfume fills my nose, sweet and strong.

“Here.” She hands me a cup.

“Is there vodka in it?” I say.

She laughs and lifts her snowboard from the snow. “Let’s go.”

The cable car speeds up the mountainside. Saskia and I stand at the Plexiglas, elbows touching as we sip our coffees.

“What perfume is that anyway?” I say.

“Tom Ford Black Orchid. Do you like it?”

I hesitate. It’s heavy and exotic, the sort of smell you either love or hate. Rather like Saskia herself. “I’m not sure.”

The footprints of a small animal streak the slope below—a snow hare or maybe a stoat. Fir trees droop with the weight of fresh snow. It’s deeper higher up.

“Want to go up to the glacier?” Saskia says. “Get some freshies?”

So we jump in the bubble. I don’t know if it’s the coffee-and-Smash combo or the prospect of us being friends, but I’m buzzing.

You know when you’re in an airplane and you look down into a sea of clouds? That’s what it looks like from the top of the glacier tow lift today. And what it feels like too, when we ride down. Floating over puffy white clouds.

Back at the bottom of the tow lift, Saskia nods at my snowboard, the Magic logo mostly obscured by snow. “So is it magic?”

“Yeah,” I say. “It actually is. Best board I’ve ever ridden.”

“Want to swap boards for a run?”