“Whatever you want.” He tosses his towel into the corner, pulls on boxer shorts, and throws himself on the bed beside me.

I glance sideways at him. Still damp, his hair clumps together in dark spikes. Is he really okay with it? I think so.

He pops two tablets from a foil packet beside the bed—painkillers for his shin splints—washes them down with the bottle he keeps there, and lies back.

I trail my fingers over his pecs. He smells soapy clean and his skin is still warm from his workout—mine, too; I’m only wrapped in a towel.

He touches my cheek. “You’ve got panda eyes.”

I grin. “I know. I look ridiculous.”

“By the way, Curtis told me I should keep an eye on Saskia.”

“What do you mean?”

“You two are neck and neck at the moment. She’s after your blood, apparently.”

I think of Curtis’s words on the glacier—she doesn’t like to lose—and a shiver of unease runs through me. “Am I supposed to be scared?”

“Hey, I’m only telling you what he said.”

I want to laugh it off, but Curtis doesn’t seem the type to worry about something unnecessarily. I search Brent’s face and my unease deepens. He’s taking the warning seriously.

“Tell me why you don’t like her,” I say.

Brent rubs his jaw. “You know how she is with Julien? That’s how she was with me last season. I shared a place with her and Curtis, remember?”

“She flirted with you?”

“Played with me, more like. Nice one minute, impossible the next. I liked her to start with.”

At least I’m not the only one she fooled.

“She stirred up so much shit between me and Curtis that winter,” Brent says.

“Why would she do that?”

“Who knows. Gets off on it, maybe. Curtis knows what she’s like, but she’s family, so he’ll stand by her no matter what. It took me half the season to see her for who she was. Poor Julien still hasn’t worked it out. She uses people.”

Shame pricks me when I remember her accusation earlier. Am I using Brent?

“You can’t trust her, Milla.”

“What else can she do to me?”

“I don’t know. But you need to watch out.”

But I’m onto her now. Surely there’s nothing else she can try. “Okay, so how do I go about beating her?”

Brent shakes his head. “You never rest, do you?”

“I’m serious.”

“Okay, you either go bigger or you get more technical with your tricks. Preferably both.” He looks thoughtful. “You could try a Crippler. No. Maybe not.”

It’s a flip, I know that much, but the name alone has put me off ever considering it. “What’s that exactly?”