Odette reaches for another pot. Super greens. “Put some of this.”

“No, no. I want her to actually like it.” Saskia sloshes the brown liquid into glasses and we carry them to the sofa.

The apartment is small but it’s way nicer than mine, with a pale wood floor and colorful rugs.

“Do you live here as well?” I ask Odette.

Her fair skin has caught the sun today. “No,” she says. “I have an apartment above the ski rental shop.”

“It’s just me and Heather,” Saskia says.

“Is Heather working tonight?” I say.

“Yeah, thank God.” Saskia leans forward to put her empty glass on the coffee table, sweater riding up to reveal her slim back. She fascinates me. So small, yet so damn strong.

Magazines are strewn across the coffee table. I glance through them, hoping for some kind of character insight. French fashion mags mix with snowboard and trashy UK celebrity ones. Which doesn’t tell me much, and anyway, some of them might be Heather’s.

I gesture to the snowboards propped against the wall. “So are all those boards yours?”

“All except that one.” Saskia points. “That’s Heather’s.”

“No way, you have, like, five boards.”

They can’t all be from her sponsor—anyway, two of them aren’t even Salomon. And with an average price of five hundred quid a pop, boards like that don’t come cheap.

I turn to Odette. “How many do you have?”

“Three.”

“How many do you have?” Saskia asks me.

“One,” I say, wishing I hadn’t asked. “But that’s all I need because it’s magic.”

And they laugh.

I catch Saskia watching me as I drain my juice. Maybe the fascination works both ways.

She props her bare feet on the coffee table. Her toenails are silver tonight. “I have a question for you, Milla. Which is better—snowboarding or sex?”

I expected something like this; it’s a girls’ night, after all. And while I love talking snowboarding with Odette, I’d rather not discuss my progress in Saskia’s presence, so I’m happy with the way she’s changed the subject.

“Depends who I’m with,” I say.

There’s a naughty sparkle in Saskia’s eye. “With Brent.”

“I told you,” I say. “I’m not seeing him.” He and Curtis are in Italy today for a comp. I make a mental note to ring him later to find out how they fared.

Saskia raises her eyebrow.

“Anyway,” I say, “I like both.”

Odette smiles. “Yes, one for daytime, one for nighttime.”

“Don’t be boring,” Saskia says.

She seems snappy with Odette tonight, as though she’d rather have me to herself. Or am I flattering myself? Three’s always an awkward number. Of our little trio, Odette’s the serious one, Saskia’s the fun one, and I often find myself tugged between the two. Tonight I’m veering toward Saskia.