Disloyalty

- Slip up -

"Shit, shit, shit," I muttered under my breath, my legs trembling as I slid down the slope. Every muscle in my body ached, and the dull throb in my feet from yesterday hadn't let up. Doing this all over again today felt like pure madness.

This time, I was completely alone. Henry wasn't here to guide me, which meant I was left to rely on the half-baked tips he'd given me yesterday.

 The only strategy I had was to mimic the kids gliding down the slopes effortlessly, their movements so smooth they looked like they'd been born wearing skis.

Hours passed—at least two. And, to my surprise, I started to feel like I was getting the hang of it.

My confidence soared. I wasn't just surviving the slope anymore. I was fucking owning it. My body felt in sync with the skis, and every turn, every glide, felt like a little victory. 

The rush of cold air stung my cheeks, but I didn't care. For the first time, I felt in control of my body, and the thrill was exhilarating.

Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted Henry and Andrew walking toward the slope, skis slung over their shoulders. They must have been out since early morning—I hadn't seen them at breakfast, which, if I was honest, had been a relief.

Another one of those painfully awkward breakfasts might've done permanent damage to my mental health.

Henry spotted me first and waved, his expression warm. Andrew, in typical fashion, just stared, his face unreadable.

Grinning, I skied down toward them, the motion feeling smoother and more natural than it had all morning.

"You're improving fast," Henry said with a nod of approval.

"Indeed I am," I replied, unable to suppress a laugh.

He grinned. "I think you're ready for a longer, steeper slope."

"Challenge accepted," I said, though my voice was steadier than I felt. Confidence was a funny thing, it was overflowing now, but I knew damn well the second I reached the top of that slope, I'd be questioning every life decision that had brought me there.

We started walking toward the chairlift, and my heart thumped with a mix of excitement and dread. I'd never been on a chairlift before, but I'd seen enough people stumble getting off to know it wasn't as easy as it looked.

"That one," Henry said, pointing to a slope framed by tall pine trees.

From down here, it didn't look too bad, but I knew better than to trust appearances. I focused on the skiers gliding down, their movements so graceful they made it look effortless. 

And tried to suppress the image of myself colliding headfirst with a tree. Think positive, I told myself.

As we joined the queue for the lift, Henry's phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen, answered, and spoke briefly, his expression shifting.

"Shit, Mum needs me," he said, cutting the call and turning toward us. His gaze flicked between Andrew and me.

"If he does anything stupid, call me," he added, directing the words at me with mock seriousness that almost made me laugh.

And with that, he was gone, leaving me standing there with Andrew—the silent enigma who barely spoke more than necessary.

We stepped onto the chairlift, the mechanical hum filling the air as it carried us upward. I gripped the cold metal bar tightly, sneaking glances at Andrew. His expression, as always, was unreadable—calm, stoic, like he'd done this a thousand times.

The higher we climbed, the more daunting the slope below looked. My confidence started to waver, but I forced myself to focus. I'd accepted this challenge, and I wasn't about to back down now.

When we reached the top, Andrew glided off the lift with practiced ease. I, on the other hand, wobbled awkwardly but managed to stay upright. Small victories.

"This way," he said, motioning toward the slope.

I followed, my stomach churning as I took in the steep incline and the tall trees lining either side. The shadows stretched across the snow, making the descent feel even more ominous.

"I don't think I can do this," I admitted, my voice shaking slightly as I stared down at the slope.

"You'll be fine," Andrew said, his tone calm and reassuring. "The longer you think about it, the worse it gets. Just go for it. Worst case? You end up hugging a tree. Could be worse."

I glanced at him, catching the slight smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"Not funny," I said, biting back a smile of my own.

"Ready?"

"Ready as I'll ever be," I replied, forcing a shaky grin.

We started down together. To my surprise, I didn't feel as panicked as I'd expected. My body moved instinctively, leaning into the turns as the skis sliced through the snow. The rush of cold air against my face was exhilarating, and for a fleeting moment, I felt invincible.

But my confidence was my undoing. The slope grew steeper, and I realized, far too late, that I didn't actually know how to stop. My skis wobbled as I tried to slow down, but the momentum was too strong.

I screamed, just before tumbling forward. I hit the snow with an ungraceful thud, sliding a few feet before coming to a stop in a puff of powder.

"Are you okay?" Andrew's voice was sharp with concern as he skied down to me. He crouched beside me, his brows furrowed. For a moment, I thought he might actually be worried.

But I couldn't stop laughing. The fall, the panic—it was all so ridiculous. I looked up at him, snow clinging to my jacket and hair, and grinned.

Before he could say anything else, I scooped up a handful of snow and lobbed it at him. The snowball hit him square in the chest, sending a spray of powder up into his face.

"What the—" He blinked in surprise, wiping his face, but I was already laughing again.

"Oh, it's on now," he said, his expression shifting to something mischievous.

Andrew retaliated with a snowball of his own, his aim frustratingly accurate. I shrieked as the cold snow hit my neck, but I wasn't about to back down. I scrambled to my feet and threw another snowball, this one catching him on the shoulder.

What started as a quick exchange turned into an all-out snowball fight. We darted around the slope, laughing and shouting like kids. For the first time, I saw Andrew loosen up, his usual stoicism replaced by an energy that felt playful, almost carefree.

Eventually, we both collapsed onto the snow, breathless and laughing. The sun was dipping lower in the sky, casting everything in a golden glow.

"You're a menace," Andrew said, his voice still tinged with amusement.

"And you're too easy a target," I shot back, grinning.

For a moment, we just sat there in the snow, catching our breath.

"I guess you're not as bad at skiing as I thought you would be," Andrew said, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

"High praise from you," I replied, rolling my eyes but smiling all the same.

Just then, Henry appeared seemingly out of nowhere, grinning as he approached.

"Hey, what'd I miss?" he asked, glancing between us.

"Nothing much," I replied quickly, tilting my head down to hide the smile tugging at my lips.

From the corner of my eye, I noticed Andrew doing the same.