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  I need to escape.

  I hope to get into the apartment without attracting any attention, but Hanne has other plans. She must have been listening: she’s a disembodied voice from the couch, her hair peeking up over it in a pink-and-blonde tangle.

  “Don’t think you can sneak past me. I want to hear it all.”

  “It all,” I say weakly. My detour past the faucet is only partially about downing two large glasses of water in quick succession. Mostly I want to get my head together. Get myself together. Once I’ve poured my third glass I finally pad over, stopping before the couch to look at Hanne.

  She’s all wrapped up in her jammies, a box of cold pizza open in her lap. She indicates with her jaw as she pats the couch beside her. “Come on.”

  I’m cringing inside as I settle down next to her. What am I going to say? I’m still in yesterday’s outfit, my now-dry bikini still showing through my thin top.

  “I know you two didn’t do it.”

  I send her a look of desperate gratitude. “Chase told you?”

  Hanne just shrugs. “He said you were pretty drunk so he let you crash in his room. Anyway, I knew he wouldn’t. Chase doesn’t like really drunk women. Maybe it’s a pride thing. You know, he wants to prove his dick is good enough for sober girls, or whatever.” Her eyes briefly look upward as if to say, Men.

  I don’t really get time to appreciate Chase’s diplomatic retelling of last night’s event. When I don’t speak Hanne prompts, “You two were pretty close, in the tub.”

  A blush prickles over my cheeks. There’s escape in watching the twist of my hands in my lap. “I was drunk. Bad decisions.”

  Hanne hums indecision through another mouthful of pizza. “I knew he’d like you,” she says finally. “You don’t need him—that’s his kryptonite.” Her smile is slightly wry. “Chase likes girls who can take care of themselves.”

  I hope my snort sounds more convincing than it feels. “I don’t think Chase is interested. Not that I am, either.” Maybe I add it a little too quickly for it to sound casual. “I mean, I like him. But not like that. It’s just a … you know.”

  “A sex thing,” Hanne fills in, though she sounds like she doesn’t believe it. She considers me as she chews through another slice of pizza. “Was he a prick?”

  He was. He shouted and he stormed out. But before then he gave me his clothes, and offered me his bed.

  There’s nothing I understand about Chase. Nothing except the way he looks at the mountains.

  “I think I pushed a button,” is all I can find to say. “Is he always … closed off?”

  “Like you, you mean?”

  I shouldn’t cringe at it. Emotional Kevlar.

  Hanne flashes me a reassuring smile, her hand reaching out to squeeze at my thigh. “It’s okay. Some of my favorite people are emotional idiots.” Her lips twitch as a more complex emotion makes little lines over her forehead. “You know, even if he fucked it up … I can’t remember the last time I saw Chase actually try to take care of a girl.”

  I don’t care, I tell myself. This is work. This is only work. Even if it weren’t only work, it would be only sex. I’m just out of one shitty relationship. I don’t need another for a long, long time.

  “I don’t need to be taken care of by anyone. Let alone Chase.”

  Hanne shrugs, humming her disbelief. A tilt of her shoulders seems to say, Whatever. “The boy has more issues than Vogue. Just don’t take it personally, okay?” She nudges me in the ribs with her elbow, her look earnest. “You’re great. His shit is his shit. Don’t let him put it on you.”

  I force the best, brightest smile I can. “I’m not about to let a one-night fiasco get in the way of my work. You can rely on me.”

  “I know I can rely on you, you idiot,” Hanne despairs. “I just want you to be happy.”

  I want to be happy too. That’s why I’m going nowhere near Chase Austin’s room again.

  Work is what’s going to make me happy, not men who are so confusing.

  Men who go.

  I’m worried about filming after what happened with Chase, but it turns out I don’t need to be. We’re all working so hard that there’s no time to be awkward. We spend our days getting footage, and I work late into the night on editing. The video is really starting to come together, and I’m feeling proud of myself.

  I try not to think about how this is almost over. In a few days I’ll be flying back to Mammoth for Christmas. Next year Aaron will be filming with them again, and this could be the last time we work together as a group.

  Except I won’t let it be. I keep telling myself that. I’m going to make the best edit possible, and Chase is going to invite me to the filming with Dinkler.

  No one else says anything about it. I mention it once or twice to Hanne, and she just shrugs. “That’s Chase’s thing.” At least she sounds apologetic. “I’m not getting in the middle of you two.”

  Not that there’s anything to get in the middle of. Chase has gone back to being civil but distant, and as time goes by I settle into it. This is good, isn’t it? Being just professional together. Colleagues.

  At least there’s not any shouting.

  We don’t get a chance to discuss what happened until Monday. It’s the second-to-last day of filming, and after we’ve wrapped for the afternoon Chase lingers while everyone else packs up and heads down the slope.

  I don’t know how to look at him. The last time we were alone together his mouth burned on mine. For a moment I’m sure I can still feel the heat of it, the embers he left smoldering inside of me.

  Chase saves me from my awkward silence. He eases his board over as I pack up, looking all the way down at me from his massive height.

  “You okay?”

  He clearly wants to say something else. I look up at him, squinting against the sun, and say carefully: “Yeah.”

  I’m so aware of how near he is to me. What his mouth felt like on mine. How it was to exist in the crush of his arms, when the force of his desire smothered me and it was all that I wanted.

  I’m not letting myself think like that again. Not after I made an idiot of myself. Not after he left.

  Chase smooths down the fabric of his pants, though there’s no snow to brush away. He can’t quite look at me. “I, uh.” His eyes skim out over the valley. “I was a drunken prick, at the party.”

  He wasn’t drunk. I know he wasn’t. But I can hear how hard he has to work to dig even those words out of his chest.

  I’m not letting him get any more words out. I’m not wondering again why he built those shields.

  “Don’t worry about it.” I push up to my feet, so quickly that he can’t offer his hand in time.

  “Brooke—”

  “I shouldn’t have made it weird.” I take a deep breath and settle a professionally bland smile on my face. “I really value working with you. We shouldn’t fuck that up.”

  Something in Chase’s expression changes. A knot of tension at the edge of his jaw is the only hint of what he’s feeling.

  “I value it, too,” he says after a beat.

  I’m relieved. If I tell myself that hard enough I can almost smile properly. “Great. You were right. Let’s keep it simple.” I force a playful grin. “I still have to convince you to introduce me to Dinkler.”

  The shape formed by Chase’s mouth uses the same muscles as a smile, but that’s the only similarity.

  “Right.”

  Something sickly curdles in my stomach. I force it down, finding a brighter smile. Work. That’s what’s important. Work. I remember what happened to Mom—it’s not like she went into things with Trent thinking she’d get her heart broken, either.

  Not that my heart is involved. Still, even casual sex can get complicated.

  Chase doesn’t notice my inner turmoil. He rolls a shoulder toward the mountain. “We should get you some more photos. For the competition.” His eyes tick over me. “That’s what you want, right?”

  The way he says it al
most sounds like a real question. As if he really thinks I might say … something else.

  Of course an Illuminations photo is what I want. It’s work, isn’t it? What I’ve always dreamed of.

  We’ll just be colleagues, and it will be fine.

  He’ll be gone soon, anyway.

  15

  “It’s a wrap.”

  Hunter looks at me in disbelief. “You. Are. Kidding. Me.” When my expression doesn’t change, he breaks into a grin before pumping his fists in the sky. “Fuck yeah.”

  Hanne breaks out her robot dance in celebration, beeping mechanical joy as she jerks her limbs about.

  “Good work,” JJ says with a bright smile. “I guess yours is just beginning.”

  “There’s some more,” I admit, knowing I’ll be up all night editing. “I’ll be ready for the showing tomorrow.” I know how excited they all are about the viewing JJ organized with Laax’s largest—and coolest—snow bar. I’m excited. To have my work aired in front of hundreds of people? That’s more than I’ve ever managed before. Last time I just got to watch the view count rise on YouTube.

  So I should be excited. I am excited. I stand there and smile and hug a squealing Hanne, trying to ignore the sick little feeling in my stomach.

  It’s Tuesday, and on Thursday we leave. Hunter will be jumping into his grueling schedule of international flights to check off events all around the world—the States, Japan, more countries in Europe than I can name. JJ, Hanne and Chase are taking some personal time before they go to their filming in February.

  I still think about Dinkler’s film constantly, but I’ve got my game plan and I’m sticking to it. I’ll show Chase how good I am. I’ll make him the best edit he’s ever seen, and then he won’t be able to say no. Not even if I’m inexperienced. Not even if he wants to fuck me.

  And if it doesn’t happen … I try to make myself think about that, too. So I’m ready for it. So that it hurts less. Either way this has been the most amazing experience of my life. It’s enough that I’ve got so many great shots in the last few days. At night I sit and flick through them on my MacBook and think—they’re good. They’re really good. Maybe not winning Illuminations good. But runner-up good, and coming runner-up in the world’s most prestigious action photography competition is nothing to be ashamed of.

  So why do I feel bad? I’ll see them next year. Maybe sooner. Hanne and JJ already talked about overlapping with me in different US locations.

  The idea of not seeing them every day hurts in my chest.

  I sneak a glance to Chase as Hanne begins work on a champagne bottle, her glove held between her teeth so she can work on the metal twist with her bare hand.

  Chase is looking at me, slow and steady, and when he notices me looking too he walks over and checks me with the breadth of his shoulder.

  “You’ve done great,” he says, so low that no one else can hear. “Those photos are going to be perfect.”

  My smile is stupidly wide. “Yeah? You haven’t even seen them yet.”

  “Then I’ll have to see them,” he says, a twitch teasing at the edge of his lips. “We need to make sure you win this competition, don’t we?”

  We.

  Like there’s an “us” to talk about. We. It has a sort of … future to it.

  My heart flutters in my chest. I’m about to say something when I’m hit in the face by a spray of champagne.

  “Kings, Kings, Kings, Kings!”

  Hanne and JJ are chanting it—all of us are chanting it—and we’re crushing into an arm-linked huddle, jumping up and down on the snow like kids. I’m smiling so much that my face hurts. It’s almost enough to make me forget the flutter of my heart as Chase’s arm braces over my shoulders, his hand cupping the side of my neck.

  Work. I have to think of work. But in this moment I allow my hand to slide about his ribs, closing my eyes to better feel the bulk of him beneath his jacket.

  I am so happy here. For a moment I can forget that in just two days he’ll go.

  “You can’t send the new kid out to get more liquor.”

  Since I was ceremonially knighted in the Order of the False Kings by JJ over dinner, Hanne has been all about looking after my honor.

  “She’s a big girl,” Hunter pshaws.

  “One of us, one of us, one of us,” JJ chants, his dastardly grin failing to be ominous at all.

  I laugh, pushing myself up from the table littered with pizza boxes and taking the last swig from my bottle of beer. I’m so happy I don’t mind being sent out. I’m stuffed with food, lulled by good music, very lightly tipsy from the champagne and my beer. We’ve been laughing and chatting at the boys’ chalet for hours. Wrapped in a glow like this, no cold can touch me.

  “I’ll grab it. What do you want?”

  “Champagne,” Hunter says, slapping a pile of bills down on the table. “My treat.”

  Hanne hums with indecision. “Are you sure you can carry this?”

  I’m about to say yes when I’m distracted by the scrape of a chair across the floor. On the other side of the table Chase is unfolding to his full height, picking a final sliver of pepperoni off one of the few remaining pizza slices. “I’ll go with her,” he says toward the meat. He sounds so unconcerned, and yet the glance he flicks up pierces right through me. “If you’re up for it.”

  Up for it.

  Colleagues. We’re colleagues. Maybe we’re even friends. It’s been good, these last two days of working together without mentioning anything awkward. I smile, pulling my jacket from the back of my chair and shrugging it on over my sweater before stuffing the bills into my pocket. “Yeah, of course.”

  Hunter begins to whistle a jaunty rendition of Here Comes the Bride toward his plate. It’s interrupted when Chase cuffs him on the back of the head.

  “Asshole.” There’s a lingering hint of a smile in the look Chase turns to me. “Let’s go.”

  Outside the world is all black and white. The dark sky laid out over the downy billows of snow. The twinkle of the faraway stars. My breath plumes before me as I tuck my gloved hands under my armpits and wait for Chase to close the door after himself.

  Why did he offer to come with me?

  It doesn’t matter. I should just enjoy this, enjoy now, because in a few days they’ll all be gone. All I’ll have left will be those photos on my MacBook.

  Chase, defying gravity.

  So much is mucked up—god knows what’s going on between us. But here it doesn’t seem to matter. Alone, together, we’re peaceful. Chase falls into step beside me as we head down the snow-dusted road. As we pass he runs his hand absently over the tree branches dipping over the sidewalk, his huge height allowing him to stroke along the snow-laden pine needles in a way I could never match.

  The falling flakes muffle the sounds of the village down the slope so there’s only the crunch of our boots and the white-puffed billowing of our breaths.

  “So now you’re one of the crew.”

  I cast a look sideways, my smile warm over my cheeks. “Apparently so. I’ve foiled all of your plans.”

  The look Chase flashes me is full of disbelief, but there’s still a grin on his lips. “Brooke Larson, fighting for justice.”

  “I guess that means you’re going have to think really hard about the Dinkler thing.”

  Chase gives a foggy chuckle. “Are you ever going to stop talking about that?”

  “Once you invite me along, yeah.”

  Chase doesn’t seem to have heard me. He’s stopped in his tracks, making me twist back on my heel to see him.

  “Look at that.”

  “What?” I follow the line of his pointed finger, up toward the mountains’ majestic sawtooth rise. “I don’t see—”

  And then I scream, because Chase fucking Austin just dumped a load of snow down the back of my jacket.

  “You asshole.”

  I’ve never made Chase laugh before. Not properly. I’ve heard him do it with the boys and with Hanne. I’ve seen it on o
ld edits. But now it’s all for me.

  “You should see your face right about now.”

  I’m not listening. I’m ducking to grab my own double fistful of snow, shimmying as I try to wriggle the rest of the freezing slush out of my jacket.

  “Is that for me?” Chase is still grinning. He drops to a lazy lean, his arms before him as if he prepares for a football tackle. “Come on. Give me your best shot.”

  Of course he dodges me, whirling about like a matador with a cocky flourish. He’s quicker on his feet than all that bulk would make you believe. My frustrated huffs of breath billow before me and he’s still laughing, twisting into a lazy backward jog as he raises a beckoning hand toward me.

  “Are you even trying?”

  “Don’t be a coward,” I tease back. “Come here and take it like a man.”

  Chase’s smile twists dangerously. “Is that what you really want?”

  I need to swallow before I can find my lopsided smile.

  “You know what I want, Chase?”

  Chase is pinned. His feet abruptly stop their backward pace, planting themselves solidly over the snow. His eyes are riveted to mine, his tongue tasting the edge of his mouth.

  I made him stop. Me. The power of it thrills under my skin.

  I sidle up to him, coming close until our heaving chests are pressed together. At my hips I feel the faintest brush of his fingertips. Holding himself back, again.

  Which works for me.

  “I want,” I whisper into his ear on tiptoe, “… to get you back.”

  Which is right when I shove my own hidden handful of snow down his neck.

  I feel Chase’s grunt as much as his shudder. Those perfectly blue eyes squeeze shut for a moment, breaking the tension that has tied us together.

  Not for long.

  The world turns upside down before I’ve even realized that Chase has grabbed me. I squeal against the strength of his arms, but there’s no possible resistance. He swings me up as if I’m weightless, the force of all those densely-packed muscles slinging me over his shoulder with unthinking possession.