Shredded (30 page)

I can’t believe how excited I am. Not just about seeing Z, which will be fun, but it really has only been two days since I saw him last. But about seeing a real live snowboarding competition that he and Ash and Luc are all competing in. And Cam—Cam’ll be competing in the women’s segments, which I’m just as excited to watch.

I’ve caught snowboarding competitions on TV sometimes, usually around the X Games or the Olympics, but I’ve never actually had a vested interest in one before. Never known anyone who was involved or watched them practice their tricks beforehand.

Z’s done nothing but practice this last week and a half. Well, practice and hang out with me. But I’ve been out with him a couple of times, and though the things he does freak me out on a regular basis, I know he could be doing things that are a lot worse. Like throwing himself off a mountain or not being smart about the tricks he practices.

Ash says they’ve got this, that there’s a chance they’ll all place in the top ten, which would be totally wicked. Admittedly, I’m pulling hardest for Z. Between all the press and added sponsorships that came pouring in after that backcountry run and how much he’s been practicing lately, I really want him to do well. Really want him to see that it’s okay for things to go well for him.

The clock that refuses to move finally strikes one, and I all but run to the employee break room, where I’ve been storing my overnight bag. And then we’re on the road, Gemma, Todd,
Logan, and me, laughing and chattering about the boys like we’re old friends. Logan’s actually really cool for a fourteen-year-old and we spend much of the trip talking about music and movies and—of course—snowboarding.

Turns out he’s determined to follow in his big brother’s footsteps. Which is no surprise. I’ve only been hanging out with Z’s friends for a couple of weeks and already I can tell what a great guy Ash is. Not as great as Z, obviously, but still pretty awesome.

“I’m so glad you and Z are dating,” Gemma tells me a few hours into the trip, when we stop for snacks and gas. “I’ve known that boy since he was five, and I have never seen him happier than he is with you right now.”

“Never?” I ask her, wondering what he was like before his mom and sister died.

“Never,” she tells me firmly as we walk back to the car. “If you ask me, things were always a little off in that poor boy’s house, even before everything happened. The way his father reacted only proves my point.”

“His father?” I ask. Z almost never mentions his dad, and the few times I’ve gotten up the nerve to ask about the man, he always deflects. Which is just weird. My mom and I aren’t super close, but still we talk every couple of days and I’ve told Z all about her.

Gemma makes a rude noise. “A bigger son of a bitch has never walked the planet,” she tells me. “That man is a selfish monster, one who has put himself and his own grief above that of a young boy for too many years. I can’t even imagine where poor Z would have ended up if he didn’t have snowboarding and Luc, Cam, and Ash.”

“Actually, he told me just this morning that he thinks you and your husband are responsible for him turning out as well as he has.”

Her eyes fill with tears, and though she blinks them away quickly enough, I can see how much my words—Z’s words—have affected her. “I love that boy as much as if he was my own son. And I hate what he’s been through.”

I know it’s low, but Z never talks about his family, and certainly never talks about how his mom and sister died. I really want to know—not out of idle curiosity, but because the last thing I want is to do or say something that might hurt him out of ignorance.

But Todd and Logan finish pumping gas and climb back into the car before I can ask, and then, as the three of them chatter about what snacks she bought, the moment slips away. I refuse to let it go completely, though. Sometime soon somebody is going to need to tell me about Z’s past. I want it to be him, but at this point I’m okay with hearing it from somebody else. As long as I know how to avoid hurting him, the source doesn’t matter.

It’s complete pandemonium when we pull up to the resort where the competition is taking place. There are reporters and snowboarders and fans everywhere, along with some pretty famous faces—both in the sport and outside it—who are there for the event. I text Z as we pull up to the valet parking, and by the time we get our luggage and walk into the hotel, he’s there.

“Ophelia!” He swoops me up into his arms and gives me a kiss that would probably be more appropriate if we’d been separated for two months instead of two days. All around us, flashes go off, and when he finally pulls away and I can think again, I realize that there are a lot of press people standing around with their cameras all focused on Z and me.

“Who’s your girl, Z?” one of the reporters calls.

“Can we get another picture?” someone else yells.

“Just one more? One more!”

Z ignores them all as he wraps his left arm around my shoulder and pulls me against his side. He quickly shakes Todd’s hand, drops a kiss on Gemma’s cheek, and murmurs a quick thank-you to them as he bumps fists with Logan.

Gemma’s eyes are wide as she surveys the crowd. “Wow. This is intense.”

Z shrugs, looks uncomfortable. “It’s just Olympic stuff.”

She looks at him knowingly. “More like it’s just you.”

“And Ash. He can’t move without being mobbed. It’s been nuts since we got here.” He gives her a quick hug. “Thanks again for bringing Ophelia. I appreciate it.”

“No problem at all,” Todd says. “Now, any idea where we can find our son?”

“I think he’s in his room, 927.” He whispers the number, and I can see why. The last thing they need is for the mass of people around us to get ahold of their room numbers.

“Great. We’ll head up after we register.”

Z nods, then pulls me closer as we prepare to make a run for it.

“Is it always like this?” I whisper to him a couple of minutes later as he cuts a swath through the crowd for us. I manage a last wave at Gemma and Todd before Z sweeps me into an elevator and away from the crowd.

“Sorry. I should have warned you. Things have been really crazy for me this time around. With Olympic trials starting in a couple of weeks and that stupid fucking video, it’s like every reporter in the country wants a sit-down with me.”

“So, are you sitting down with them?”

The look he shoots me is pure Z, all arrogance and disdain mixed with just a hint of vulnerability. “Does it look like I’m sitting down with them? I have better things to do.”

“Oh, yeah? Like what?” We step off when the elevator gets to top floor. Looks like Z really is moving up in his sponsors’ esteem.

We barely get three feet off the elevator before more flashes go off. And then suddenly
we’re surrounded by people shoving cell phones and cameras in our faces. Fans, I realize, as Z doesn’t go off the way I expect him to. Not reporters this time, but fans who just want to meet or talk to or get a selfie with Z.

It’s crazy. I mean, in Park City people talk about him all the time, but rarely does anyone try to take a picture with him. Here, it’s like he really is a celebrity. Everyone wants an autograph, everyone wants a picture and a minute to talk to him.

I’m so shocked that I just stand there like an idiot as the crowd ebbs and flows around me. I end up getting jostled and bumped some, and that’s what finally pulls me out of my surprised stupor.

Z handles it all like a pro, however, and I can’t help wondering if this happens to him at every competition or if it’s new and he’s just had time to get used to it since he’s been here a couple of days already.

Either way, he wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me out of the ever-growing crowd. Right now there are about thirty-five people around us, but as the elevator dings and lets a bunch more people out—all of whom seem to be here for Z—I realize that this thing can blow up really quickly.

It freaks me out a little, and I move closer to Z until I’m pressed right up against him. He tightens his arm around me, then leans down and murmurs, “Don’t worry, baby. I’ll take care of you.”

“If you can all just give me a minute,” he tells the crowd. “Let me get my girlfriend settled in the room and then I’ll come back out and sign. I promise.”

He has to say it a few times, but it finally seems to get through to people and they clear a path so that we can get through. Z stops about halfway down the hall and scans a keycard before pushing the door open. Then we’re inside what turns out to be a really nice suite, and I’m staring at him, wide-eyed, as everything that’s just happened kind of rolls over me.

“Is that normal?” I demand, whispering, though I’m not sure why. “Is it always like this when you leave Park City?”

He grimaces. “No. This is all because of that damn video—I swear, part of me wants to strangle Ash for this bullshit. I mean, sure, when I’m competing there are always some fans who want to talk to me or who want an autograph, but I’ve never been stalked through a hotel before.”

He sets my bag on the luggage rack, then walks over to the small fridge in the bar area, pulls out a Dr Pepper, and hands it to me. “Here. I got these for you, along with a couple of bags of red licorice and some apples.”

My heart just melts a little more, along with the last of my worry about the crowd in the hall. Of course they want to meet Z. Who wouldn’t? Once you get past the attitude, he’s an
amazing person.

Not to mention a really amazing boyfriend, I admit as he heads for the door after giving me another toe-curling kiss. “I’ll just sign a few autographs,” he promises as he reaches for the doorknob. “And then I’ll be back in.”

“Don’t worry about me. Sign as many as you want to. I’m going to take a shower and then I’ll be here waiting for you. Naked. In bed.”

“That’s not fair,” he tells me. “I’ve been
dying
for you to get here.”

“Who’s got time for fair?” I ask him with a smile. “There’s a crowd outside the door that keeps getting bigger and bigger. Considering how early morning comes around here, I figure I need to stake my claim on your time any way I can.”

He grins, then comes over and gives me yet another kiss. I end up clinging to him, head spinning and knees weak. “Believe me,” he whispers into my ear before he heads out the door, “I definitely consider your claim staked.”

I smile at him as I watch him go, because, really, what else is there to say? As I step into a hot shower a couple of minutes later, I can’t help wishing for things to stay exactly as they are right now. Because for this moment, at this time, they’re absolutely perfect.

Chapter 23

Z

She’s here. She’s really here. And yes, I’m aware that being this excited that Ophelia is with me—that she’s going to watch me and then celebrate with me later—is a total pussy move, but to be honest, I just don’t give a fuck. I’ve never, not once in my whole life, had someone in the stands who belonged to me. Who was rooting for me.

Oh, Ash’s parents have been there. So has Cam. But that’s not the same as having Ophelia, who really is here for me. Just me.

For the first time in my life, I’m going into this planning to compete, really compete. It’s strange how her being here has changed the way I approach these things. It used to be that I was here for Luc and Ash, that I competed because it was just part of the deal to hang with them and be their friend, but it was never something I was really into. Never something I wanted. And, more times than not, I’d blow it just to make sure that they did better. Not because I ever thought they needed me to, but because they’re my friends and it matters to them. Why wouldn’t I do
whatever I could to help them do well?

They’re still my friends and I still want them to do well, but for the first time, I want to do well, too. I don’t want to embarrass myself in front of Ophelia, who has never seen me compete on a national level before.

“Hey, you guys are going to tear it up out there,” our agent, Mitch, tells Ash and me as we walk toward the lift that will take us to the top of the mountain. We’re about fifteen minutes away from the first round of slopestyle, and I’m more than ready to get started.

“We know,” Ash answers with a grin. “First and second, baby. And Luc’s going to tear it up in the half-pipe later.”

“Damn straight,” Mitch agrees. “I expect all three of you to place this time.” He looks at me hard. “No excuses. No stupid mistakes. You’ve got this.”

“Okay, okay. I’ll see what I can do.”

“Don’t see. Do.” He fist-bumps me, then Ash, before walking toward the stands.

“Is he planning a new career as a motivational speaker?” I ask with a snort as we watch him go.

“He’s just excited. All his plans are coming together.”

“Don’t you mean machinations? The two of you are like mad scientists, rubbing your hands together and cackling with glee as you put together your next evil plot.”

“Hey, someone’s got to dominate the world,” Ash says with a grin. “Why shouldn’t it be us?”

“You terrify me,” I tell him with a shake of my head. “You really do.”

“Just part of the plan, man. Just part of the plan.”

We head toward the magic carpet that’ll take us straight to the starting line. As we do, I catch a glimpse of Ophelia’s hot-pink-and-purple striped beanie in the crowds. I stare at her hard, hoping she’ll turn around. She finally does, and I wave to her. I can’t see her face, but I know it’s her from the way she moves. And the way she waves back.