: ̗̀➛ part three of the
one for the road series
SNOWFALL / CL16
in which two childhood friends reunite. a formula one driver wants to learn how to snowboard and it just so happens that the daughter of his mum's be...
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✧ ˚ · . CHAPTER SEVEN . · ˚✧ angels roll their eyes
val d'isère, winter 2023
Two days later, I found myself at Charles' door two hours before my kids lessons were bound to start, ready to give him a crash course so that he knew at least how to hold himself up while teaching the little ones, because as much as I loved my beginners classes towards the end of the afternoon, they clashed with Charles' rigorous, pretty princess formula one training schedule. I'd only known this because Alfie ended up telling me over breakfast the next morning, and now here I was, my stomach in knots as I waited for Charles to open the door to his room, only two doors down from mine.
My breakfast squirmed uneasily in my stomach as the seconds ticked by, nervously tucking my turtleneck into my ski pants, my jacket and boots dangling from my other hand. When Charles finally appeared in the doorway, wet hair dripping and a towel wrapped loosely around his waist, all possible civil greetings I had rehearsed while getting ready evaporated from my mind.
"Sorry, sorry. I didn't expect you to be here this early. Come on in, I'll be ready in five." Charles motioned me to come inside, and through the fog in my brain I managed to push my legs to work. I stayed close to the door, my free hand tugging on the sleeves of my turtleneck while my eyes struggled to take in everything but Charles' perfectly chiselled upper body.
I thought he couldn't have gotten any more attractive than when we were seventeen, but apparently I was wrong. The pretty princess training schedule was definitely doing its work. A sharp v cut into his skin, leading to the edge of the fluffy white towel I wished wasn't there. I wanted to rip it off, run my fingers over the ridges of his skin, maybe even my... I quickly hit the brakes.
This was not the direction today was meant to go. I couldn't start my day sexually frustrated, especially not when I had to spend the rest of the morning with the object of my desires. I cleared my throat, finally deciding to train my gaze to the Puma sliders adorning my feet. It was no use wearing heavy ski boots inside, and I had a little cabin on the side of the hotel where I kept all my instructing stuff anyway. I'd just wanted to change my boots because the other pair was hurting my toes.
Charles reached into the closet that was practically the same as the one in my room, except it was missing the pictures I'd stuck onto mine to remind me of all the people I missed, like my best friend Lorelai and Celine, who worked along with me at Beaumont Interiors and was currently carrying most of the heavy workload. She spent a lot of her time in New York, balancing BI while also freelancing as an architect, so we barely saw each other and would take turns on the heavy, personal one-on-ones in Paris.
Thinking about Celine and BI gave me enough of an opportunity to cool down my ravenous mind to the point that my touch-starved body no longer yearned for skin-on-skin contact with the only ex-boyfriend that had ever been able to make me come.
