When we get back to the table, I all but throw the drinks at my friends before reaching for Ophelia’s hand. But, after getting me all fucking worked up, she’s got other ideas. She actually wants to talk to my friends, which normally I’d be fine with. But I can feel her allotted twenty minutes slowly ticking away and I’m not sure I’m going to be able to wait to the end of her shift to get her alone.

For their parts, all of my friends look surprised to see Ophelia standing so close to me. “I didn’t know you guys had gotten to be friends,” Luc says, eyeing me suspiciously.

When I don’t say anything, Ophelia turns to frown at me. I merely shrug, not willing to get dragged into a discussion of why I didn’t tell my friends about her, but then it suddenly seems to dawn on her.

Instead of just going with it, she raises her brows at me and says, “You didn’t tell them you won the bet, did you?”

Fuck. “No.” I shake my head. “I didn’t.”

“You totally should have. You won it fairly spectacularly, after all.” She bats her eyelashes, all flirtatious teasing, and it’s all I can do not to kiss her right here in front of everyone.

The only thing stopping me is, “It’s nobody’s business what we do.”

Luc’s and Ash’s mouths actually drop open while Cam just sits there, staring broodingly into the depths of her drink.

“She knows about the bet?” Ash asks, incredulous.

“You won the bet and you didn’t tell me?” Luc adds. “When did it happen?”

“Again, none of your business.” I’ve never had any trouble when my friends talk about the other girls I’ve slept with, but I don’t like the way this conversation is going. I don’t like them even thinking about Ophelia sexually, let alone discussing when we did what.

“I beg to differ. If I’m giving up my Flow Darwin—” He breaks off as Ash elbows him. Hard.

“I don’t need your snowboard, man,” I tell him.

He whoops in relief, but Ophelia is having no part of it. “I’m sorry, but a bet’s a bet,” she says. “I’d like to think I was worth at least a snowboard.”

“So much more than that,” Lucas assures her. “I’m sure of it.”

I reach over and shove him. “What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”

“Hey! What’d you do that for? I was complimenting Ophelia.”

“She doesn’t need your compliments.”

Now all four of them are looking at me like I’m crazy. Hell, maybe I am. I know I’ve never felt like this about anyone before—happy and protective and horny and scared out of my mind that I’m going to screw it up like I do everything else in my life. It’s not a good combination, and I can’t help wondering if we wouldn’t all do better if I just got off the ride. But that would mean walking away from Ophelia, and I’m not ready to do that. Not even close.

“Again, I beg to differ,” Ophelia says in her haughtiest voice. “I will take all the compliments I can get.” When I start to respond, she holds her hands up. “It’s a girl thing. You wouldn’t understand.”

“You could explain it to me outside,” I tell her, grabbing her hand and pulling her into my side.

“I could,” she agrees, lacing her fingers through mine.

Excellent. I start to tug her away, except my phone chooses to vibrate on the table where I dropped it, announcing that yet another text has arrived. I ignore it—I’ve got better things to do than to worry about who wants a piece of me—but Ash is having no part of it. He unlocks the phone and checks out the latest message. As he reads, the color drains from his face.

“What’s wrong?” I demand, pulling the phone from his hand.

“Mitch just texted. They want to put you on the cover of Sports Illustrated in February.”

“Seriously? That’s what you look so freaked out about?” I shove an annoyed hand through my hair. “I thought something was wrong.”

“It’s for the Olympics issue, Z. They want you to be the cover of the Winter Olympics Sports Illustrated.”

Before I can say anything else about it, Ophelia all but jumps up and down with joy. “Oh my God, Z! That’s amazing.”

Not as amazing as spending the next fifteen minutes making out with her. I start to say that, but she’s already reaching for my phone.

“I want to see,” she tells Ash.

He hands it over willingly, but as she goes to read it she must notice the zillion or other texts that have come in today, because she turns to me. “What happened? It looks like your phone went crazy today.”

“It’s nothing.”

“Nothing?” Luc squawks. “It’s everything. Check this out.”

Then he’s pulling up the video on his phone and handing it to Ophelia.

She watches in silence, but I can see the way her hands are shaking and how she’s jiggling her knee. The others have crowded around to watch it one more time—even Cam, though she stays as far from Ophelia as she can get and still see the phone—and I don’t think they notice, but I can’t pay attention to anything else.

When the video is over, Ophelia asks, “This is you?” Her green eyes are huge in her white face, and they’re that malachite color again. The one that means she’s holding on by her fingertips. “You did that?”

“It’s okay,” I tell her. “It was no big deal—”

“No big deal?” Luc again. “It was epic, man. You didn’t even look. You just took off the side of the mountain, no trail, no nothing, and you rode it!”

His voice rings with pride, and still I contemplate murdering him where he stands. I shoot him a look, one that tells him to shut the hell up because he’s not helping. I think he gets it because he closes his mouth, but the damage has already been done.

Ophelia’s looking at me like I’ve lost my mind. Or broken her heart. “You threw yourself off a fucking mountain? You didn’t even check to see if there was a path? You just literally threw yourself off the mountain?” Her voice gets a little higher with every syllable.

I shrug. I’m totally out of my element here and don’t have a clue what I’m supposed to say.

“I can’t—” Her voice breaks, and suddenly she turns away. “I need to get back to work,” she calls over her shoulder, even though it’s only been ten minutes and she’s walking in the wrong direction.

“Hey, Ophelia, wait,” I tell her, hustling after her. The girl can really move when she wants to, those long legs of hers eating up the space between our table and the employee break room. “Talk to me.”

“I can’t,” she tells me, her voice sounding muffled even though she’s right in front of me. “Not right now. I just can’t.”

She swipes her passkey across the sensor, and the door to the break room unlocks. “I’ll see you later,” she tells me, pushing it open and stepping inside.

“Wait a minute.” I shove my foot in the door, catch it the same way I caught the door of her room the first night we ever went out. I’m not sure what it says that this girl is always trying to put barriers between us—any more than I know why I’m so determined not to let her. “That’s it? You’re just going to walk away without talking to me about why you’re upset? That’s bullshit!”

“Oh, no,” she whispers harshly, lowering her voice in an effort to keep this just between us. I could have told her it was too late for that—already I can see the other employees in the room straining to hear what we’re fighting about. “You don’t get to turn this around. You know exactly what’s got me so upset, so don’t pretend that you don’t.”

“I’m fine,” I tell her, holding my arms out and spinning around as if that will get the truth through her thick head. “I’m absolutely fine.”

“This time,” she shoots back. “But what about the next time, or the time after that, or the time after that? One of these times you’re going to do something stupid, something reckless, and you’re not going to make it through it. You’re going to die and—”

“Goddamnit!” Fury swamps me as I figure out what this is really about. It takes me over, and I slam my fist into the wall next to her head, ignoring the pain that shoots out from my already bruised knuckles. “This isn’t about me at all. This is about Remi and that car accident.”

“No!”

“Yes. Fuck, yes, it is.” I pull my hand back, start to slam it into the wall again. But the look on her face is so pained, so upset, that I end up shoving it deep into my pocket instead.

“Just because something bad happened to him doesn’t mean it’s going to happen to me, too,” I tell her, because I have to make her understand.

“Just because you think you’re invincible doesn’t mean you really are,” she counters.

I search her face, try to figure out how to reach her. But she’s totally closed herself off from me. It panics me and pisses me off all at the same time.

“You knew I was a snowboarder when you slept with me. Nothing’s changed.”

She starts to say something, but seems to think better of it. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe nothing has changed—except my perception. I knew you did the half-pipe, knew you did the really advanced runs around here. But what I saw on that video—” She shakes her head. “That’s something totally different. I’m not sure I can deal with that.”

“Yeah, well, you’re going to have to. Because me boarding backcountry’s not going to change. I can’t not do that.”

“I know.” She nods, her hand coming up to cup my cheek. “I’m not asking you to stop. I’m just saying I don’t think I can be a part of it. Not if I want to stay sane.”

Then she’s pushing up onto her tiptoes, pressing a soft kiss against my mouth. “You need to go, Z.”

“Go?” This afternoon has turned out so differently than I expected it to that I’m dazed. Confused. “Now? But we’re not done talking.”