my salvation (chris evans)

chapter twenty five - a weekend of snow

The following morning, I wake up naturally. I groan softly, my eyes peeling open to be faced with Chris, already awake and watching me. I give him a sleepy smile and he grins.

"Good morning, sleepy head."

"Moooorning, future husband." I mumble and his smile widens. "What's the plan for today? Have anymore sssurprises in store for me?" I ask and he chuckles.

"Well, obviously we aught to do a bit more skiing—"

"I agree. Snowboarding, too."

"Snowboarding too. And I was thinking ice skating."

"Oooh, yeah. I like that idea!" He smiles.

"Good! Then I thought we could have a meal at one of the restaurants. Go all out and celebrate." I smile widely and nod.

"I think that's a spiffing idea, Mr Evans." He grins.

"I'm glad to hear it, future-Mrs-Evans." I bite my lip, smiling widely.

"You're such a goofball." He laughs.

"Yeah, and you're marrying this goofball." He points out, leaning in and connecting our lips. Yes. Yes I am.

When we finally leave our bed and have some breakfast, we go back on the slopes. We do a bit more skiing, then dip into some snowboarding. To say the least, skiing is easier than snowboarding. Who knew?

Late afternoon going into early evening, Chris and I head to the Silver Circle ice rink. We hire out some skates and penguin waddle onto the ice. Obviously, at first, we're falling over. Even Chris. I think our mistake is that we daren't let go of each other's hands, so when one of us starts to go down, we both go down. We eventually get into it though, skating along together. Chris gets cocky and starts being an idiot, which makes him fall over. It gives me a good laugh. After ice skating, we go to the White House Tavern for a 'celebratory meal', treating ourselves to a few drinks. When we get back to our chalet, we're slightly tipsy, giggling and acting like children.

"Let's go play pool!" Chris beams, pulling me down the stairs.

"Noooo, I'm terrible!" He laughs.

"That's not a good enough excuse. We have to make the most of the equipment in this place." He tells me, shrugging off his jacket. I let out a laugh as he picks up the pool cue.

"The equipment?" He laughs and shrugs, taking away the triangle and then positioning himself to break. He hits them pretty well. Then it's my go. "I'd probably stand back. I have a tendency to smash the balls off the table." He laughs and rolls his eyes. "You think I'm joking and I'm not. I am shocking."

"I mean, you handle my balls well enough." He says with a smirk, just as I'm about to hit, and it makes me mess it up. The bastard. He bursts out laughing and I look over at him with raised eyebrows.

"So that's how we're playing?" I ask, handing him the cue. "I'll get you back."

"Hmmm, alright." He prepares his shot and hits, potting a red. He grins, then hits again. He misses. It's my go again, and I line up my shot. Chris walks over to the bar and gets us some drinks. I miss the shot.

As the game progresses, we drink more, and Chris is unsurprisingly in the lead. I still have yet to pot. On my next go, I line up the shot and snag the white ball, so it flies across the table and onto the floor. I uncontrollably laugh and Chris laughs, raising his eyebrows.

"Okay, remind me never to let you near my balls again." He jokes and I laugh again.

"See, I warned you!"