Baby Steps (Mark McMorris FanFic)

Capter 37

  * Just a quick side note unrelated to the story, everyone follow my best friend NolanBarkhouse ! He is currently writing his first Wattpad story. I edited it and it's such a cool concept! You'll all like it :) Thank you! *

    I stood in the spectator area, smothered by a vast array of fans from all different countries, cheering on the twelve finalists. During his first run, Mark had fallen short. He took a nasty spill halfway through his run, and finished with a score of 33 points. The leader, Sage Kotsenburg, finished with 91. If Mark wanted to earn a spot on the podium, he had a lot of ground to make up. Despite our awakard, depressing parting a few moments earlier, I still wanted him to do well. I know Mark. He worked his butt of his whole life to get a spot in the Olympics, and I knew he wouldn't want to let his country down.

   As Mark stood at the top of the mountain for the second time, I could feel my own heart racing in my chest like a train thundering down a railroad track, out of control. I couldn't begin to imagine how he was feeling. Then again, he was Mark McMorris. He never panicked.

  I quietly whispered words of encouragement to him under my breath. I knew he couldn't hear me, but I didn't care. I was doing it to reassure myself, not him.

   The horn blew, and he was off. I stood on my tiptoes and craned my neck in all directions, not wanting to miss a moment of the action. He was looking good (from a snowboarding prospective you creeps). He was looking really good. In fact, he may have been having the best run of the competition so far.

   Forgetting my nerves, I joined in with the fans around me. "GO MARK GO!" I screamed at the top of my lungs, pushing all of our personal matters aside for a few short, sweet minutes. It felt like we were back at the resort again- He was showing off and I was watching in admiration.

  I snapped back to the present just in time to see him race across the finish line and pump his fist into the air in triumph. He killed it. I jumped and clapped and screamed, like a proud mother watching her son get his first goal in his little league soccer game.

   He stood at the end of the course with his team, staring at the giant scoreboard in anticipation. Would it be good enough to secure him a place on the podium? From the viewing area, my hands shook. My breath was shallow. The announcers voice came over the loudspeaker just as fluorescent numbers flashed across the screen "MARK MCMORRIS-88.75!"

   Half of the crowd cheered, and the other half booed. I was booing. Mark clearly had the best run yet. He was ripped off. I glanced over and saw him run his hands through his sweaty hair in frustration. However, he was in second place, behind Sage Kotsenburg. As long as nobody beat him, he would be bringing home the silver.

   I nervously watched as the next few competitors took to the slope. None of them were on Mark's level, thank God. Just as I was beginning to feel my hopes rising, the secod-last competitor, Stale Sandbech from Norway, began his run. He looked good too. Not as great as Mark, but pretty solid. Combine that with his score from his first run and he would definitely push Mark down a place.

   Sure enough, Stale finished and the scoreboard shifted-He was now in second place, Mark was in third. Stage was easily holding down the gold. I felt like I was going to pass out.

   The last athlete was Gjermund Braten, also from Norway. As long as he mesed up, Mark would be bringing home Canada's first medal from the 2014 Sochi Winter Olympics. No pressure or anything.

   The horn blew one last time, and Gjermund was off. Before I even had time to get nervous, the unthinkable happened. A crazy, mind-blowing miracle that you only see in movies.

   Before he even reached the first obstacle of any kind, Gjermund was off his board. Like, he just tripped and fell. Literally. I am not kidding. If I was in the Olympics, that is exactly what I would have done. It looked like me on that first day Mark taught me how to snowboard. It was that bad.

   Now, under any other circumstance, I would have busted my gut from laughing so hard. But in that moment, I was too stunned to do or say anything. Everyone else was in the same boast. Nobody knew what to do.

   And then, as if a switch had been flicked, the crowd, the teams, and the athletes burst into simultaneous screams. My head felt like it was going to erupt. Mark just won bronze in the Olympics. Holy shit.

      I began clapping like the other regular citizens, when, all of a sudden, the crowd in front of me began to part. I was just about to move out of the way when I was quickly embraced in a tight, enveloping bear hug. I was picked up off the ground and spun around. My ears were ringing. I had no clue what was happening.

   When my feet connected with land again, I looked at my captor. Standing in front of me, sweaty and gross and cold and as cute as ever, was Mark. I blushed, attempting to muster up a response. However, that wasn't necessary.

   Before I got to utter a single word, Mark took my face between both of his icy hands, and kissed me. Hard. Right on the lips. My first kiss was with Mark freaking McMorris. Pretty impresive. Maybe I could put that on a resume.

   For a second I was too surprised to do anything, but then I woke up and kissed him back. I had never felt anything more right. Eventually we pulled away for air, and I was able to whisper one, short sentence.

   "I love you." I felt a tear trickle down my cheek. Mark smiled tenderly and wiped it off. And in that moment, I could have sworn we were the only two people in the entire universe. "I'm so sorry-"

   I tried to apologize, but Mark wouldn't have it. He shut me up by kissing me yet again, and I mean, what girl would complain about that? Not me.

   When he was done silencing me, he grabbed my hand and led me over the barrier onto the course, which was now flooded with the medalists, family members, coaches, and photographers. I located Craig and stood next to him while Mark scurried to the podium. We didn't have to speak to each other at all. We were both grinning from ear-to-ear, and he put his arm around me and pulled me close for a brotherly hug. He whispered "It's good to see you two back to your normal selves, sis."

   I grinned, and earnestly thanked him for forcing me to come along. He just laughed, and then we both turned to watch Mark accept his medal. It was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.

   After everything was said and done, we all realized just how exhausted we were. Craig was busy talking to Mark's parents and coaches, so the two of us strolled behind them, hand in hand. He had draped his Team Canada jacket around my shoulders when he noticed that I had been shivering.

   We were silent for a moment, when I decided to ask a risky question. "Why did you do this? I mean, I basically told you to move on and forget about me Mark...why?"

   To my surprise, he laughed easily and shrugged, carefree. "I guess I've never been very good at following the rules."

   And with that we paused to lean in and kiss again, this time gently, and slowly, savouring the moment. In unsison we muttered those three precious words, and I knew, we were real. I was now his, and he was mine. Nothing or nobody in the world could come between us. It may have taken us forever to realize it but, hey, I guess baby steps pay off in the end.