“Who’s Nathan?” Amelia asked, confused.
“He’s in the book she’s reading,” Tash explained. “But he’s not going to keep her warm at night, is he? I’d take a real Pierre over a fictional Nathan any day, wouldn’t you?”
“I’ve got my electric blanket to keep me warm, thanks,” Sophie replied.
“And Pierre would probably hog the duvet.” Lucy smiled at Sophie in a way that made Sophie feel maybe she had an ally after all.
Sophie recognised his voice from where she stood in the queue for a green armband. As if she could ever forget it. Surreptitiously she slunk to the back of the queue and edged away, hoping he wouldn’t see her, dread pumping through her body.
He probably doesn’t even remember you.
She propped her skis up against a wall and leant against it herself for a minute, glad to feel the solid concrete behind her, even though it was freezing. Why was she even doing the Valentine Ski Dating event again? All so she could meet more jerks like Thomas?
She stared up at the snowy peaks and startlingly blue sky, scenery she normally loved but right now it couldn’t distract her from the memory of another day in a queue for the chair-lift, imprinted into her brain with vivid clarity. It’d been the morning after her hideous mistake, her experiment at trying to be like everyone else, doing what everyone else was doing.
Having fun.
Except it hadn’t been fun. Not even remotely.
Sophie squeezed her eyes tight shut as though she could squeeze the memory out of her mind. But it wasn’t that easy and the wave of remembered humiliation passed over her, drenching her with fresh embarrassment at the memory. She couldn’t stop the words from flooding her thoughts too – the words Thomas had used to describe their night together to his friends the next day in the queue for the ski lift.
‘Always go for the overweight ones, lads. Fat girls try harder in bed.’
It’d been two years ago but he might as well have just said it. She didn’t know what had been worse, those words or the look of pity in the eyes of his friend who had seen her first and had belatedly nudged Thomas to shut him up. Discovering afterwards that he and his friends held No Standards Wednesdays competitions, to see who could bag the biggest “minger” had been the ultimate humiliation. Although she couldn’t be sure they’d done it that particular night they’d hooked up… Still the suspicion was enough to make her hate Thomas like she’d never hated another human being before. She was angry with herself too, for imagining a handsome, semi-professional skier had fancied her.
What really rankled was that she hadn’t even been overweight, not medically anyway, although maybe by Verbier trustafarian standards. Technically she’d been a healthy weight for her height for almost the first time in years that season. But in two sentences he’d swept away any achievement she’d felt in her weight loss. It seemed she was always destined to be the fat girl. No matter how much weight she lost after that, a little bit of her always felt like the fat girl inside.
Tash had been wrong, it’d been two years since she’d had sex, not a year. There’d been a sweet guy she’d been friendly with last season but all they’d ever done was cuddled. He’d never tried to take it further and she’d been too scared of rejection to push it. God forbid she be seen to “try harder” again. Now she was afraid of trying at all. If she fancied anyone she kept it quiet.
Opening her eyes again she scanned the crowd in front of her. There was no sign of Thomas and his loud friends. It was safe to go ahead.
But do I really want to?
“Hey, there you are.” Tash came up alongside her, already wearing a dark-green armband over the sleeve of her purple ski jacket. “Where did you get to? Why haven’t you got your armband yet?”
“I’m just doing it.” Sophie shuffled forward to join the end of the queue. This had to be better than spending Valentine’s Day on her own, didn’t it?
“Seen anyone you like the look of yet?” Tash joined her in the queue while Lucy went off to the lockers for her skis. For the first time that day Sophie noticed Tash’s eye make-up, the dark-grey Kohl and deep-pink eye-shadow accentuating her cat like eyes, the same shade as the pink streaks in her fair hair. She looked beautiful, although a little scary. Sophie admired the men who had the courage to take her on.
“Hmm, not sure.” Sophie looked half-heartedly around her. There were quite a few tourists in the crowd joining in the event and many were drinking openly or already drunk.
“Twats who fancy themselves as Johnny Depp,” Tash sneered dismissively at a group of young men dressed up as pirates, already drunk and spraying each other with expensive champagne. “What a waste of Moët.”
“Well they keep the rescue helicopters busy I ‘spose.” Sophie pursed her lips. Why did she always feel like a kill-joy lately? Jaded and cynical already, at twenty-five. She sighed, something was going to have to change.
Once she’d given her name and put her green armband on over her sleeve they headed back to find Lucy and clicked their skis on, heading for the start of the run.
“So how is this supposed to work exactly?” Lucy asked, glowering as one of the pirates cut her up and wolf-whistled.
“It’s like a singles’ bar on snow really – you see someone you like the look of, you go and say hello. And we all meet up at the mountain cantine at the next station for a drink. Then you ski to the next station and stop for a drink and so on. There’ll be food too I think,” Tash explained, casting a cool eye over the crowd around them. “You could accidentally ski into someone you fancy but really it’s not advised, they’re not going to be too keen on you if you’ve just broken their leg.”
Sophie decided just to enjoy the run without even looking at the people around her. Every year so far she’d looked, been hopeful of catching someone’s eye but being alone with her Kindle definitely seemed a better deal than landing up with the likes of Thomas. The only romance they knew was pretending to be charming until they’d actually got you into bed. Then they dropped the act.
Like kissing a prince only for him to turn into a frog. What’s wrong with this picture?
She put her sunglasses on and as they set off down the slope she enjoyed the familiar buzz of speed, fresh air and fantastic scenery. She’d always loved sledging as a kid but this was way better. You had so much more control, once you’d got a bit of experience. All around her she could see inexperienced skiers going far too fast and with little or no control. It took all her skill to avoid collisions with them.
Pulling up at the bottom of the slope and avoiding those whose skills clearly didn’t include stopping without falling over, Sophie deliberately avoided catching anyone’s eye. Which was why when someone skied directly in front of her and stopped suddenly, spraying snow up into the air she practically jumped out of her skies.
“Pardon Mademoiselle,” the handsome skier said, his face stretched into a grin. His fair hair flopped down into startling blue eyes. “Sophie?”
“Er, oui?” Sophie replied, frowning slightly. How did this guy know her name? Then she noticed he didn’t have a green armband on like the rest of them and felt more confused than ever. Was it one of the organisers?
“J’ai
