No Two Are Alike

11 | a mountainous mistake

Jack looked glumly at the trees under the ski lift.

Goodbye, sweet world, he thought. It was nice knowing you.

He was so dead. The jig was up. His brother wasn't exactly a pro, but Chloe was expecting Jack to be a decent skier. In reality, Jack hadn't skied since the horrific T-Bar incident when he was young, when he face-planted down a mountain and ate at least four pine tree branches on the way down.

Nope.

He couldn't do this.

"Do you want coffee?" he asked hopefully. "There's a lodge up top."

Maybe Jack could convince Chloe to stay indoors. Where it was safe. And free from T-Bars.

"Let's do a few runs first," she said.

Ah, fiddlesticks.

"Maybe a few cruisers?" Jack suggested. "To warm up?"

Preferably green runs. Or whichever runs were flattest. Jack wasn't entirely certain how the whole ranking system worked.

"Let's start with a blue."

"Sure." Jack swallowed. "That sounds good."

"With moguls."

He had no idea what on earth those were. They didn't sound good, though.

Chloe kicked her legs gently, humming under her breath. She looked unfairly adorable in ski gear, Jack thought sourly. Her dark braids poked out from beneath her helmet, and her ski pants were sculpted to her legs. He didn't even realize that ski pants could be sculpted.

"Logan?"

"Hmmmm?"

"You're staring."

"Oh." Jack tore his gaze away. "Right."

Chloe shot him a cheeky grin. She seemed more relaxed on the ski lift, although Jack had a minor heart attack when she slipped trying to get on to it. Honestly. Chloe's clumsiness would be the death of him.

He swallowed hard, staring down at the pine trees below. God, they looked far away. Were ski lifts always this high up? He balled his glove into a fist, fighting back a rising sense of nausea. Oh, god. He had vertigo. This was vertigo, right?

Screw Logan.

Jack gritted his teeth. He was never agreeing to one of his brother's stupid articles again. You couldn't pay him enough.

Come to think of it, he wasn't even getting paid for this one.

Why had he agreed to it again?

He glanced sideways. Oh, yeah. Chloe. She was scanning the hill absently, her eyes running over the rocky ledges and neon orange fences.

"You know," Jack said, "if you're looking for Ed Westwick, he isn't here."

Chloe spun around. "What?"

"Chalet Girl?" Jack prompted. "The film?"

"No, I know." Chloe shook her head. "But how do you know I like that film?"

Ah. Crumbs.

Jack swallowed. He knew because Chloe insisted on watching it every December, usually accompanied by ugly Christmas jumpers, hot chocolate, and popcorn with so much butter that you could use it as moisturizer.

"Jack told me," he lied.

Chloe flushed. "Well, Jack needs to stop running his mouth."

Ouch. Jack scowled.