Robin Wasserman - Pride

“Hey,” Adam grunted.

Beth nodded and looked down. Most of her face was hidden by a thick blue scarf-only her eyes were visible, and he couldn’t decipher their expression. Once, he’d been able to read her thoughts, just from the look in her eyes. It felt like a long time ago.

They rode in silence for several long minutes, watching the skiers dart around beneath them. Adam swung his skis, gently rocking them back and forth.

“Could you not do that?” Beth asked. Adam looked over and noticed how tightly she was gripping the guide bar. For a moment, he considered swinging his legs wildly, just to see her face fill with fear. But he suppressed the impulse-and hated himself for it.

“Sorry,” he said awkwardly, and stopped. “So, uh, how’s the skiing?” And where’s your boyfriend? he added silently. Nice of Kane to send her off by herself. Typical. But no more than she deserved, he supposed. And she was a big girl. She could handle it.

“It’s fine,” she responded unconvincingly. “It’s great. Kane and I are having a great time.”

“It doesn’t look it,” Adam snapped.

“What?”

“If you two are having such a great time together, where is he?”

She looked away. “That’s really none of your business,” she said bluntly. “Did I ask you where Harper was?”

“She’s-”

“I don’t care,” Beth cut in. “That was my point.”

“Fine. Sorry I said anything at all,” he retorted.

“Me too.”

Beth hopped off the chairlift as soon as her skis could reach the ground. She couldn’t get away from Adam fast enough. She hated what being around him did to her. Half the time she was an emotional wreck, ready to throw herself at his feet and beg him to take her back, the other half she was this cold, sarcastic monster she barely recognized.

He deserved it, of course-what right had he to comment on her relationship, act so wise and superior, as if he were just waiting for her and Kane to fall apart? He didn’t know anything about them-or anything about her, not anymore.

She was so angry that she forgot to be afraid as she launched herself down the trail. So busy fuming about Adam that she failed to notice the icy patch until it was too late-her legs went skidding out from under her-one ski off to the right, the other off to the left, and just when it felt as if she would snap in half, her skis snapped off instead, and she landed, facefirst, in a pile of snow.

Ouch.

It took her a moment to catch her breath and make sure all her limbs were still attached and in working order. Yes on both counts. She sat up and brushed the snow out of her face, taking stock. One ski lay a few feet away, and there were her two ski poles, but the other ski…

Beth’s heart sank. It was nowhere in sight. Had it slid down the mountain without her? She wondered how much it would cost to replace a rental ski-and how in the world she’d make it down without it.

“Lose something?”

Adam skied to a stop just in front of her-and he was holding her missing ski.

“I saw it go flying,” he explained, “and figured… are you okay?”

She nodded and, with some hesitation, took his hand and let him help her up.

“I saw you go flying too,” he told her, “and I thought…”

“It looked pretty bad, I guess?” she asked with a wry smile.

“No, no,” he assured her as she snapped her boots back into the skis. “You were doing great until you fell. You’re a natural.”

He’d been watching her? Beth felt her face warm, and was glad her scarf would hide the blush. The scarf made her think of Kane-and that made her think it was time to go.

“Well, I guess I should get back on the horse,” she said, taking a tentative step forward on the skis, only to topple over once again-and this time, she pulled him down with her.

“I take it back,” Adam said, rolling over and spitting out a mouthful of snow. “You totally suck.”

He burst into laughter and, after a moment, Beth broke out in giggles.

“I’m so sorry,” she gasped, trying to get hold of herself. “Let me help you up.”

“No, don’t touch me,” he warned, but he said it with a warm smile on his face. “I don’t want to risk another human avalanche.”

He picked himself up and then, again, hoisted her to her feet.

“I guess I should have paid more attention in ski school,” Beth admitted ruefully.

Adam flicked a clump of snow off her shoulder, and Beth realized how long it had been since he’d touched her. But just a moment ago he’d grabbed her hand and pulled her upright as if it were nothing.

Which, she supposed, it was.

“I could-I could help you out a little,” he suddenly suggested, looking surprised to hear the words pop out of his mouth. He couldn’t have been as surprised as Beth.

If he’d asked her ten minutes earlier, she would have laughed in his face. Accept help from Adam? As if.

Suddenly, it didn’t seem like such a bad idea. “I guess we could do that,” she accepted shyly. “If you want.”

“Okay, then,” he said, in his can-do voice. She knew it well. But then, she knew everything about him, every inch of him, well. Or, at least, she had. “The first thing we need to do is work on your stopping skills. Did they tell you in your lesson about ‘making a pizza’?”

Beth rolled her eyes. “Not you too! I still don’t understand what skiing has to do with fast food. It’s so ridiculous.”

He gave her a playful shove. “Now I know you’re not mocking the pizza-not the very bedrock of our skiing society!” He looked so stricken that she burst into laughter again.

“I wouldn’t dare,” she promised. “Bring on the pizza.”

He positioned her on the skis, and they practiced stopping and slowing down and, eventually, “French fries,” for when she wanted to speed up, and soon, Beth was no longer terrified by the out-of-control flight down the mountain-she was exhilarated.

Despite all that was unspoken between them, and all the horrible words that had been said and could never be forgotten, things could still be easy between the two of them. She felt she was rediscovering something, or someone, that she hadn’t even realized she’d missed. Not Adam-or not just Adam-but herself. The person she had been-before. She thought she’d lost that person forever. Maybe, just maybe, she’d been wrong.

By the time Adam returned, flushed and sunkissed from his day in the snow, Harper was seriously bored-and seriously cranky.

She’d gossiped with Kaia, made small talk with the steady stream of losers who’d returned to the lodge with bumps and bruises of their own, read through this month’s Vogue, twice-at one point she’d gotten so desperate for something to do that she’d actually called her mother . In short: It had been a painfully long afternoon-made even longer by the fact that Adam showed up twenty-three minutes later than he was supposed to. (And yes, she’d been counting.)

But she played the good girlfriend-she put on a happy face.

“How are you doing?” Adam asked, greeting her with a kiss and laying a gentle hand on her wounded ankle.

“Much better, now that you’re here,” she said truthfully. “So how was your afternoon?”

“Awesome!” he beamed-then looked down at her and quickly corrected himself. “I mean, it was okay. You didn’t miss much.”

He was so adorable when he tried-and failed-to be a smooth operator.

“It’s okay, Ad, I want you to have fun,” she assured him. It sounded like the right thing to say… even if it wasn’t quite true. “So you didn’t get too bored, skiing all by yourself? Or did you hook up with one of the guys?”

“No…” He stepped behind her, beginning to rub her shoulders. “Actually, I spent most of the day…”