“It’s kind of between a backflip and an inverted five. I’ll show you one in the pipe tomorrow. But I don’t know. If you get it wrong, you land on your face.”

“Cool. I’ll look them up on the Internet. See if I can find a YouTube vid. So how do I go bigger?”

Brent hitches up the hem of my towel and traces a zigzag line on my bare thigh with his fingertip. “This is your line in the pipe, right? And this is mine.” He traces a zigzag with much wider angles. “I’m hitting the wall at maybe forty-five degrees?”

“Okay.” I’ve noticed this, but I’ve never really thought about it before.

“I get fewer hits, but they’re big because I’m traveling way faster than you are when I take off.”

“Right.” So my route across the pipe is costing me too much speed. I picture Saskia’s line and compare it to mine. Does she take a steeper line? I’ll watch her tomorrow.

Brent’s hand hasn’t moved from my thigh. And it feels good. Our eyes meet.

I force thoughts of Saskia aside. “Want to zigzag a bit higher?”

—

I smooth my hair down as Brent and I enter the living room. The others are all there, crammed in front of the fire. My stomach wrenches at the sight of Jacinta next to Curtis on the sofa.

“We were waiting for you,” Curtis says.

Heat rushes to my face.

Brent grins. “Want a beer, Mills?”

“Yeah, go on then,” I say.

“After that workout?” Curtis says. “No, get her a Super Mag.”

“A what?” I say.

“Magnesium blend,” Curtis says. “Muscle recovery drink.”

I’d normally refuse on principle because I hate being told what to do, but Jacinta looks like she might be drinking it, and after that workout my poor quads need all the help they can get, so I grudgingly agree and Brent heads to the kitchen.

“You should have one, too,” Curtis calls after him.

“Yes, Dad,” Brent calls back.

I climb over Julien and settle on an empty patch of carpet. The fire crackles and spits. I smother a yawn. I lay awake for hours last night, body exhausted, mind still buzzing from excess caffeine. I vowed I wouldn’t drink any more Smash, but I was so tired this afternoon, I had to. Maybe sleeping tablets would help. That way I’d get the best of both worlds. Energy by day, sleep by night.

Brent returns with a glass in either hand and sits behind me, pulling me backward into his lap. So much for keeping this casual. Dale and Heather sit nearby in a similar position. Heather is checking her phone, looking bored. I feel sorry for her, actually. If she’s studying law, she must be really smart, yet she’s stuck here in a room of smelly snowboarders.