Days on end

The snow fell softly, blanketing the pine trees and cabins in a powdery white glow. It was the kind of morning that made me want to linger by the fire with hot cocoa, but that wasn't an option when your family owned Ridgeview Resort, the crown jewel of ski country.

"Y/N, are you coming, or what?" Ellie called, her voice muffled by her scarf as she tightened her boots near the front door. Ellie was my best friend since kindergarten, and her family co-owned the resort with mine. She had the kind of effortless confidence I'd always envied, rocking messy braids and ski goggles like she'd walked off a magazine cover.

"Yeah, yeah, give me a sec," I mumbled, tugging my thermal hoodie into place. I grabbed my snowboard, the one with the galaxy print I'd practically begged for last Christmas, and slung it over my shoulder. My parents joked that I was born with snow under my feet, but it was more than that-I lived for the rush of carving through fresh powder, the crisp mountain air on my face.