Catch Yourself a Snowmance (Have Yourself a Merry Little #2)

7. Carson

Chapter 7

Carson

And we’re going to have the

hap-hap-happiest Christmas.

~ Clark Griswold,

National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation

T he snow stopped at some point overnight. We wake to a winter wonderland, fluffy piles of white as far as the eye can see, branches weighed down with pillows of snow, a blue-gray reflection making me squint when I survey it all from my bedroom window.

“Good morning!” Mitch shouts in at me.

“Are we able to get out at all?” I ask.

“Sounds like they’re sending trucks through to clear the roads today from what Liam found out. We might grab an afternoon on the slopes if we can get the cars out.”

“Whatever it takes, I’m down. ”

“Shovels and snowblowers are in the shed. Gage and I went exploring early this morning.”

“Breakfast?”

“The girls are cooking pancakes and the rest of the bacon.”

“I thought I smelled something worth getting out of bed for.”

“I’m thinking you have more than one reason to go downstairs today.” Mitch wags his eyebrows.

“Meaning?”

I know what he’s talking about. I want him to be the one to spell it out.

“Alyssa?”

“She’s fun. We’ve developed a fast friendship being cooped up here together.”

“Yeah. I’ve been cooped up with her too. Can’t say we’ve developed a fast friendship, or even an acquaintance. You two are like siamese twins.” He pauses. “In a good way.”

“What is the good way to be siamese twins?”

He honestly considers this. “Maybe you’re never lonely?”

I chuckle.

“Seriously, though. She seems cool. Is there something more there?”

“Nah. That would be disastrous.” I look over at Mitch.

He’s casually leaning on my door frame and I’m sitting on the edge of my bed. He’s only wearing a T-shirt and a flimsy pair of sweats.

“Disastrous?” Mitch looks confused.

“Nevermind. Like I said, we’re just friends. She’s cool. We’re enjoying getting to know one another.”

Mitch stares at me. It’s the kind of stare that feels like an X-ray. I get up and pull open the dresser drawer, shuck on a T-shirt and sweatpants. A moving target is harder to read. At least I’m telling myself that .

“Nothing wrong with catching feelings, man.” Mitch says it so casually, I’d almost believe him.

“If that happens, you’ll be the first to know,” I tell him.

“How about you put me second on that list. If you catch feelings, let her know. We’re not in high school around here.”

“Sometimes I wonder.” I laugh and Mitch joins me.

“See you downstairs.” He turns and walks down the hall.

Alyssa is wearing a fluffy sweatshirt and leggings with Ugg slippers, flipping pancakes and humming when I walk into the kitchen. Her head turns and our eyes meet. My mind unhelpfully flashes to the moment she stood on tiptoes and kissed my cheek. I run my hand down my jawline. Two days of growth make my skin feel like sandpaper. I wonder if she liked that or if it was a turn-off. I smile at her and grab a mug down to get some coffee.

“The guys will take over breakfast duty tomorrow,” I tell the kitchen full of people.

“Darn right you will,” Jennifer says in a mock scold.

“Any requests?” I ask her.

“Can any of you bake? I’d love some muffins.”

“I bake,” I offer. “Do you bake, Gage?”

“I can manage with a box mix.”

“Muffins and omelets,” I say.

Alyssa walks over to the island and places a platter of pancakes in the center. “Dig in while they’re hot.”

I watch her move through the kitchen. I lean back on a counter across from the stove. Mitch catches my eye and gives me a look that questions every word I uttered upstairs. Good friends can be a blessing or a curse. He knows me too well.

When the next platter full of pancakes is set on the table, we all dig in and eat breakfast. After the dishes are washed, the guys all put our boots on and head out to the shed through the path Gage and Mitch shoveled this morning. We grab shovels and snowblowers and spend the rest of the morning clearing the snow off the driveway and freeing up the cars. We finish by spreading a few bags of salt we found in the shed across the pavement. The local snow plows come through the road outside the cabin just before lunch.

We all eat soup and sandwiches, warming ourselves around the fire in the living room and then we take off for the ski resort. Our cell service is more consistent today. The resort website said the roads are clear and they’re open for business.

I’ve always been a skier. My family grew up taking ski trips at least once a year. I’ve never snowboarded.

Alyssa asks the group, “Who’s snowboarding with me?”

I know what I’m choosing. I’ve always wanted to learn to snowboard. No time like the present.

“I’m snowboarding,” I say, thinking everyone else will answer at the same time.

The room is quiet. My three friends all give me identical looks of disbelief. None of them says a thing, though.

Until Mitch just has to say, “First time snowboarding. This should be fun to watch.”

“You’ve never snowboarded?” Alyssa asks him.

“No. I have. Our boy, Carson here, has not.”

“Do you ski?” she asks me with her brows raised and her eyes soft.

“I do. Black diamond. And I learned to surf at the coast growing up. I’ve got this.”

“Okay. Let’s go!” Liam says from the doorway.

We’re all bundled up, Alyssa’s wearing that red ski jacket again, and some black snowboarding pants. I’m in jeans and my winter coat. I pull on my beanie and hop into the driver seat. Since the guys drove up separately, we all ride to the slopes in my car while the girls drive in the SUV they came up in .

“Snowboarding for the first time?” Liam asks me from the passenger seat.

“I figured I ought to give it a try.”

“She’s a good woman.”

“Who is?”

I keep my eyes on the road. The snow has been plowed and salt covers the asphalt. Drifts several feet high line either side.

“Alyssa,” Liam’s voice is calm, like he’s trying to keep the conversation between the two of us.

“She’s into you,” Gage offers from the back seat.

“What? No. It’s not like that,” I say, glancing at him in the rearview.

“You don’t have to remain single,” Liam says. “Meeting Noelle has been the best thing to ever happen to me. I wasn’t unhappy without her. But my life is infinitely better with her in it.”

“I’m so happy for you.”

“Dropping it,” Liam says. Then he adds, “I like the way you two seem to enjoy one another’s company.”

“Me too. She’s … nice.”

“Yeah. Nice.” Liam shakes his head with a smile on his face.

Thankfully the subject of Alyssa is actually dropped when Gage brings up some extreme skier he knows personally. He tells us all about the competition his friend is in and tricks he’s seen him do when they skied together.

We find parking and meet the girls at rentals. Once we’re all geared up, we head out to the bunny run.

“This is totally unnecessary,” I tell my friends. “I can start at the top of a regular lift.”

“Trust me,” Alyssa says. “You’ll want to practice down here.”

I’ve been skiing since I was a kid. How different could snowboarding really be? I’m not about to argue with her, though. I’ll get the hang of it in no time. I’ll just strap into the board, point it downhill, and glide. Then we can all head over to a lift and enjoy the more challenging slopes the rest of the afternoon.

There’s a conveyor belt built right into the hill to take us up a minor slope—a magic carpet , as they call them. I could ski this hill blindfolded. I stand at the bottom of the rubber moving sidewalk.

“Just glide onto it,” the attendant says casually.

I thrust and pull, trying to drag the board up to the start of the conveyor belt. I step on with one foot at a time—the one attached to the board and then my free foot. My front foot starts to slide with the board. The belt is already moving forward, throwing me off-kilter. My board jerks forward, but my body doesn’t. I’m nearly doing the splits, pinwheeling my arms and shouting, “Whoa! Whoa! Whoa!”. I almost faceplant, but I manage to catch myself.

The lift attendant stops the magic carpet—with a jerk. I wobble again, but remain upright.

All eyes are on me, including the eyes of a kid who can’t be more than seven years old, standing just ahead of me on his own snowboard on the rubber track, making it look like standing with a snowboard attached to one foot is no big deal.

And Alyssa. Her eyes are definitely on me. Unfortunately. She’s just behind me, staring.

Way to make an impression. First it was Dorito dust, now this.

I plant both feet firmly, trying to look casual and in control, but the board doesn’t stay in place. The attendant starts the conveyor without warning and I flail around again, swaying and tightening the muscles of my legs to stay upright.

Somehow I slide just a few inches to the left and the board catches an edge of the rubber belt dragging us up the hill. I tilt backward, and despite my desperate efforts to stay upright, gravity wins. Everything seems to move in slow motion. I fall backward, landing on my rear on the belt.

“Straighten your board!” the attendant calls out, not even hiding his laughter.

“Are you okay?” Alyssa asks from behind me. There’s mirth in her voice too.

“I’m good.”

I chuckle from my seated position. Turning with a board attached to one foot is just as hard as you’d imagine it would be. I manage to tip myself over so that I’m practically crawling and then I scrabble to get back on my feet before I’m hauled all the way up the hill in this humiliating position.

I shout back to Alyssa. “I look like an uncoordinated penguin!”

She busts up laughing. I can’t help but join her.

When we reach the top, I’m finally standing. The belt jerks again. My board hits the snow at the end of the conveyor belt in a spot that is packed and hardened. The impact sends me sprawling onto the unloading area in a face-down snow angel, right in front of everyone coming off the magic carpet.

“Are you okay?” Alyssa asks again.

I lift my head to look up at her. “I’m great. My ego, not so good. But I’m fine.”

She smiles down at me and extends her hand.

“Maybe I should ski,” I suggest once I’m standing.

“You can,” she offers. “But just know that anytime you try to learn to snowboard is going to go like this. It’s a mess starting out. You’ll get the hang, though, and then you’ll be hooked. I promise.”

I smile at her. “Pinky promise? ”

She looks suddenly shy. She stares at me through her lashes. “Mm hmm.”

I feel emboldened. I want to impress her, for some reason. Skiing would definitely be the way to do that, but trying to snowboard when she encouraged me seems important, so I stick it out.

I manage to master the magic carpet, remaining upright every ride up after the first one. I even make it off at the end without falling flat on my face. The hill is another story. I’m sitting on my rear in the snow for what’s got to be the twentieth time. Alyssa slides up next to me.

The rest of our friends took off a while ago. She insisted on staying behind while I worked on improving. I keep telling her she can go find the rest of the group. I hate feeling like I’m holding her back.

“You’re getting better,” Alyssa says with a smile.

“I’m getting better at falling? Or better at staying upright?”

“Both, I think.”

She extends me her hand for the hundredth time in the past few hours.

“Want to try a bigger hill?” she asks. “I think you’re ready.”

“And what part of this amazing performance of mine makes you say that?”

“Trust me,” she says. “It doesn’t get better until you keep at it. And then you get the hang of things, and before you know it, you’ll be as proficient at snowboarding as you are with skis.”

“You’re taking my word for the fact that I’m proficient on skis. If only you could see me.”

“Maybe next time.”

The words slip out of her mouth so easily. She’s already said she’s going to bake me a dessert. Now she’s talking about the next time we hit the slopes together. Maybe she means during this trip. Her tone didn’t sound like that, though. It sounded like a certainty for some future date when we’d be enjoying a snowy day together. Maybe with this same group of friends—of course with them. Of course.

“Okay, you’ve got this,” I say out loud, to myself. I take a deep breath, put my weight forward slightly, and go for it. I feel the moment something clicks and I find my rhythm. I manage to link a few turns together.

Alyssa’s right behind me, whooping like she’s at a game and it’s fourth quarter, no time outs, and her team has to pull a hail Mary and they make the winning touchdown.

“Wooooo hooooo! That’s the way! Go Carson! You’ve got this!”

I keep sliding down the hill, upright, attached to my board—not falling, but actually snowboarding. My movements feel tight and unnatural. It’s nothing like the smooth, effortless way I maneuver down a hill ten times more challenging than this one on skis. But I’m turning left and staying upright. Then I lean a little and go right. I wobble, but I don’t fall. It’s far from glamorous. But I’m making it work.

That kid from the first ride up the magic carpet comes zipping past me, not even looking where he’s going. I nearly fall from the shift in my concentration. But I don’t. I make it all the way to the bottom. Alyssa slides in right behind me. She’s been controlling her speed just to stay with me. I’m half grateful, half humiliated.

“You did great!” she smiles over at me. “Now let’s catch a lift!”