Authors: Lark O'Neal
“Didn’t have much choice.”
“Mmm.”
Why’d I have to be an asshole? One of my counselors said I should give my parents a break when I can. Taking a breath, I yank open the curtains. “I’m nervous.”
“Basics, that’s all. Start there and everything else’ll come right back.”
“Yeah. That’s the plan.”
“You bring your rabbit’s foot?”
I laugh, pat my pocket where the battered old thing is tucked away. It belonged to him when he was a kid. “Yep. And Ovaltine for breakfast.”
I can almost hear him smile. “All right, have a great day on the slopes.”
“Will do, sir.”
He hangs up before I do.
Pulling my hat down over my head and the goggles onto my forehead, I grab my board and stomp outside. Let the training begin.
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hat’s exactly what I do: focus on basics, getting used to the new ride, breaking in my boots. For a few hours, I just shred like anybody else, feeling the glide and the sharp air, feeling the pleasure of it. How did I ever let this go?
By lunchtime, I’m feeling it and quit before anything gets too tired. I get back to my room, change into my sweats and a t-shirt, and head down to the gym. This is when it’ll get dicey. There are bound to be some people I know, and the minute anyone sees me, word will be out. I should be ahead of the crowd since I quit so early, and to my relief, it proves to be true. I hit a few light weights, just to get my shoulders and arms a wake-up call, then walk on the treadmill for a little while to get rid of some of the lactic acid.
Then, it’s the hot tub.
Fuck. Ing. A.
Every muscle in my body is buzzing and exhausted, but it was a great start. The board doesn’t feel like it’s mine yet, but we’ll get to know each other. My legs are strong from the mountain biking, but the hip is burning. In the hot water, I push my knuckles over it, and make a mental note to schedule massages to keep it loose.
There’s not a lot of time to do the kind of training I have to do. Diving in is the only way.
“Tyler?”
My gut sinks and I’m tempted to pretend I have no idea who this Tyler person is. For a long second, I don’t open my eyes, but the woman says again, “Tyler, are you training again?”
I know that voice. Alice Pruitt, one of the top women boarders for nearly ten years. Two winters ago, she broke her neck when she wiped out on attempting a variation on a backside 900 and hasn’t been in competition since. Despite the face that she’s six years my senior, we were once a pretty hot item.
I wipe steam off my face and push my hair away. “Alice. What’s up?”
She’s a taut blonde with the kind of cheekbones that look like blades. It’s hard to keep enough weight on when you’re training all day long every day. She’s wearing a green Speedo that shows a lot of scars ribboning over an elbow, a knee. I was with her when she broke her ankle and I pick out the white zigzag across her foot. We’ve all got a few, and she has been shredding a long time. She sits on the edge of the hot tub and dangles her legs. “I can’t believe you’re here. What are you doing?”
I shake my head. “Trying to fly under the radar, but that’s clearly doomed.”
Her grin is white and clean, making sun lines wreath out from the corners of her eyes. “You should have known.”
“What are you doing? I thought you—“
With a wave of her hand, she stops me. “I’ve been putting some girls through their paces, but none of them are going to make the team this year. Maybe next round.” Her ice blue eyes, the prettiest thing about her, peer hard into my face. “Are you back?”
“That remains to be seen. First day.”
“Dude!” She laughs.
I nod ruefully. “Don’t spread it around, all right? I’m not even sure I’ve got it anymore. I’d like to see what’s happening before anyone knows.”
“Husselbeck is here. FrontMan, too.” She waves her feet back and forth in the water. Her shoulders are slightly canted, the right lower than the left. I look away. “It’s all right,” she says. “I’m good. I had fourteen years, and now I’m coaching, so it works out.”
I meet her eyes. I can give her that much. “You married yet?”
She snorts. “You?”
“Nope.”
Voices echo through from the other room. I glance over and pull myself out of the water. “I’m gonna get out of here before anyone sees me.”
“You found a coach?”
I paused. “Haven’t even tried yet. You offering?”
She measures me. “Maybe. Let’s see what you’ve got. I’ll meet you out there tomorrow.”
I flash a thumbs up.
Back in my room, I order room service, down about 5000 calories and check email. Nothing from Jess.
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c
hapter FIVE
On Wednesday, after three days of training, every bone in my body feels like the marrow has been drained out of it, and every muscle is thrumming with that weird mix of alive exhaustion. Only my hip is giving me any trouble, and I’m stripped down to my boxers, icing it as I open up email.
There it is, finally. Five days after our Skype was mysteriously ended.
From: [email protected]
Subject: Finally!
24 July, 19:12
Dear Tyler,
I’m sorry to be so out of touch! You were right— it
was
an earthquake, kinda big I guess. Nobody was hurt here or anything, but I have to tell you it scared the heck out of me. My dad’s niece is pretty freaked out because she went through the Christchurch earthquakes. (She and her brother Kaleb, who also lives with us. But he’s a lot more stable than she is.) We’ll be there on Saturday and Darcy wants to show me where her old house used to be.
My iPad was damaged in the earthquake, and the power was out for two days, and then we all started filming early yesterday morning, all day, then early again today. It’s really, really, really hard work and long hours, but Tyler, it’s so much fun!!!!!!
Darcy and Kaleb are both doing the commercials, too. Darcy is an extra, which she talked herself into. She’s a very hot girl, half Maori, all lush and dark haired and sleepy-eyed. The men can’t take their eyes off of her. I’m sort of a human/sort of elf, depending on the scene, and although I do get yelled at sometimes and not everyone is particularly nice to me, I’m loving it. Kaleb is my best friend in the clips, and he’s really laid back, so that helps. When I start getting upset, he just tells me to breathe. It’s getting to be a joke.
What are you up to? What did the judge say? You haven’t told me. My dad took my iPad into the shop, but everybody keeps telling me that it’s hard to get good wireless unless you’re at home. Not sure if we can Skype, unless I can figure out how to do it at the hotels. Tomorrow we’re going to Abel Tasman for the second day, which is this amazingly beautiful place. Tyler, I kayaked!! I didn’t even drown! It was one of the most fun things I’ve ever done, honestly, just gliding along in the water, so quietly. I love the water so much! It’s hard to even write it down in a big enough way. I wish I could call you and talk on the phone. Maybe we can do that much at some point, yo.
We’ll do one more day at Tasman, then finish the shoots here tomorrow, drive down to Christchurch for one day of filming, then fly to Queenstown Sunday. When you look on the map, the distances don’t look that far away, but I guess driving takes a long time. I was hoping we’d drive because I wanted to get to Kaikoura, which is where I was born. The film people do not care about that kind of stuff, as I’m sure you know. They have schedules and it all costs so much money, and they have to get it done.
This is not what I thought I’d be doing here. I’m sad in one way that I haven’t had much time with my dad and we haven’t gone to Kaikoura and I still have all these questions about my mom, which I haven’t even been able to ask. On the other hand, it’s all exciting and I think I might be actually kind of good at this, and I’ve never had anything happen to me like this in my whole life.
Send me a long email so I know you’re okay, please? I’m thinking about you and sending xxxxxxxx thoughts, too.
Love,
Jess
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y the time I finish reading her email, I’m aching, tugged in two equal directions. One half of me, the better half, is happy that she’s having so much fun, that she’s finding out something about herself, that she’s good at this. I imagine her kayaking across the open bay, sun shining on that golden hair, water sparkling around her, her odd, beautiful face laughing, and I’m glad. I pull up a map of New Zealand on the computer and find all the places she’s mentioned. Abel Tasman and Nelson, then far down the east side of the island, a tiny dot for Kaikoura, then Christchurch.
Queenstown, I know. I wonder how long she’ll be there. I doubt I’ll be ready to head to Wanaka before the end of next week, but maybe the week after that.
The less noble half of me keeps seeing this guy Kaleb’s name. She drops it casually, and he’s technically her step-cousin or something, but my skin rustles a warning when I see it. Instinct, maybe, or just my asshole jealousy rearing it’s dangerous head.
Probably the latter.
And the bottom line is, she is free to be with every guy in New Zealand if she wants to be. Isn’t that part of finding out who you are? I wish she wasn’t so much younger than me, so much less experienced, but she is. Not even quite twenty, with one douchebag of a boyfriend, no experience or school other than what she’s picked up through books. If we are ever going to have a real chance, I’ve got to give her space and time and room to grow up and find out who she is.
Even if I lose her.
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From: [email protected]
Subject: re: Finally!
24 July, 10:23 pm
Dear Jess, my beautiful Kiwi baby,
I’m so glad you’re okay and that nobody was hurt during the earthquake. Sounds like you’re having a blast filming and making friends. Send me a picture! It’s exactly the kind of adventure you deserve, and I hope your can pour your whole self into it. Don’t worry about me at all. I’ve got my hands full with something that feels pretty great, it’s a lot of hard work (I haven’t worked so hard in a really long time) and I’m feeling better about life than I have since—God, I don’t even know. A long time.
The judge gave me a weird sentence. That’s all I’m ready to say at the moment. It has the potential to be really good, but I could also humiliate myself completely. Not ready to tell you all about it yet, especially not in email, but maybe we can figure out a time to Skype once you get your iPad back. Or can you Skype some other way? The timing is really hard, but I can maybe work it out around 8 am your time, or maybe 10 pm or 11 pm your time.
If we can’t, no big deal. Maybe I can get to Queenstown eventually or something.
Love,
Tyler
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From: [email protected]
Subject: re: Finally!
25 July, 05:34
Tyler! How mysterious you are! I’m dying to find out what you’re doing. Please give me more hints! I have no idea when we can Skype. 8 am, I’m always working. Maybe I can stay up until 10 one night, but honestly, we’re working 12 and 14 hours every day, doing a lot of physical stuff, hiking, kayaking, all that stuff, and the minute we get back to the house and eat, we’re all fast asleep. My dad came in and found us all crashed on the couch in front of a movie last night, piled up like kittens, he said. :)
I’d LOVE to see you in Queenstown if you can get there, but remember, we are working tons. Might be better to wait until we’re done with the commercials. After August 16, I think they said. Something like that.
Gotta go! Van is here. Xoxoxox
J
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he days melt one into the other, all exactly the same. Eat, train, eat, train, eat, weights, eat, sleep.
Start again.
Alice spends the morning evaluating my form and style, puts me through my paces, sets up some challenges, and then it’s drills and more drills and more drills. It’s exhilarating and exhausting, feeling my body coming back to life, finding the pace and my power.
Maybe I might really have a shot. Not at a medal, of course, but at maybe making the team.
The downside to life is that it’s nearly impossible to catch Jess, time-wise. When I’m getting up to hit the slopes, she’s fast asleep. By the time I’m back to the apartment, she’s off to film. Our relationship is all in email.
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From:
[email protected]
Subject: sliding in next to you
26 July, 6:32 am
I woke up thinking of you this morning, dreaming that your silky hair was spread out over my chest. I miss you like an arm or an internal organ and wish I could see you right now. RIGHT NOW. I’d hold you close and smell the curve of your neck and run my hands over your sweet ass and kiss you until you were boneless, weightless, melting into me.
You are sleeping as I write this, and I’m imagining that I’m sliding into bed beside you, naked, and curling myself around you. Feel it?
God, I miss you.
Xoxoxo
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From: [email protected]
Subject:
26 July, 9:14 pm
Long day here. Really long, hard and disappointing. I was hoping to find something from you in my inbox, but I realize you’ve probably been working since I sent that first email this morning, or maybe you’re traveling or you were asleep and then had to go to work.
Sorry, I shouldn’t even have commented on it. And what I should do is erase this email and start over, but I’m not going to. I’m going to go have a beer with a friend of mine, the first one I’ve had all week (that’s a hint). I’m also not in Colorado anymore, which is part of why the hours are so fucked up. If I tell you where, you’ll guess the secret, and I guess maybe I want to keep that awhile longer.
Write when you can. Tell me about your world.
Love,
Tyler