Ski-In, Ski-Out

The Météo-France had become Scott's best friend over the past few weeks. He checked in every day, and the French Meteorological Service promised clear skies for the rest of the week, except for tonight. During his arrival to the one-bed, one-bath slope-side chalet, there was a flurry of snow expected to last the night and clear out at dawn. A perfect week of skiing was on his mind as he trudged up the short hill to his new front door. He unlocked the door, luggage in one hand, skis slung over his back. The rush of warm air that hit his face upon entering the cabin instantly washed away the stress of the chain of cars, planes and shuttles it took to get him to the mountain. Smells of pine and old leather furniture hung in the air. He stomped the snow off his boots and set about unpacking.

"There's more space in here than there is in my apartment" Scott muttered to himself as he shut the last drawer. His clothes were unpacked, save for the gear he planned to wear in the morning. A few groceries he grabbed on his way in were still on the table. Just enough to feed a man on the mountain for a week. A solo trip was just the thing he needed. Embracing his chronic single status was becoming easier by the day, and the freedom he felt out here in the Alps was refreshing. Or so he hoped it would be. Sharing the cabin with a lover would be nice too, but who wants to spend the money on extra food, lift tickets, or have to wait around for someone else to get ready in the morning. These were the things Scott told himself as he finished putting away the groceries, the fridge surprisingly empty even after depositing his week of food.

Scott sighed and sunk into a plush leather armchair, closing his eyes and taking in the stillness of nighttime in the Alps. Fresh snowfall always dampened sound, and here was no different. The silence of winter at home had seemed to follow him on his escape. It must be time to get some sleep, he had a big day planned.

Scott was awake before his alarm, excited to start the day. Dawn light trickled in through his bedroom blinds, emphasizing the shadows in some corners with an orange glow in the others. After a simple breakfast he suited up and prepared to greet the day.

Crisp morning air rushed past Scott's face as he carved gently down to the base of the mountain. He was ready for the gondola line, hoping for the best but being prepared to stand and wait. Much to his surprise, there were only a few people ahead of him in line.

"Perks of staying on the mountain!" He thought to himself, smile breaking out underneath his gaiter. To fill the small amount of time between his arrival at the line and the gondola ride of his dreams, he began counting the people in front of him and behind. There was a group of four in front, two adults and two small children. His concealed smile persisted at the sight of the kids. The tiny mittens, miniature skis and puffy coats reminded him of his early skiing days. Any neighborhood hill felt like an unconquerable mountain range at that size, he could only imagine the sense of adventure that these kids felt looking at the towering peaks of the French Alps. He stared wistfully up-mountain, taking a second to look through a child's eyes at the day ahead of him. Suddenly he was filled with hope and wonder that he hadn't felt since his first ski lessons.

Behind the family was just one other person. With all the masks and coverings seen on a ski slope, it's often hard to imagine that real people sit just below the gear. Many goggled faces can blend together after a lifetime on the snow. However, this figure seemed different. Scott was overwhelmed with a sense of personality radiating from a featureless face. Below the goggles and mask, a bright teal blue jacket overlapped white snow pants. This figure leaned against a railing, snowboard boots unbothered by the stairs to the gondola platform. Two dark braids fell out from underneath a teal blue helmet. The masked face was looking around slowly, comfortably. It eventually settled on Scott, alerting him to the fact that his own face coverings did hide his curious stare. He looked down at his boots, blushing hard enough to warm his cheeks against the morning cold.

"Good move," he thought to himself sarcastically. "Everyone loves being stared by a blank, goggled face. Really puts them at ease." His chastising was cut short when the blue helmeted head cocked slightly to the side. Even without seeing her face, Scott could sense the warm, forgiving smile being cast his way. With a curt nod he turned to face the lodge, hoping he could end this interaction on a positive note. He would have no such luck, as the family at the front of the line boarded the gondola. A strange spike of nerves filled Scott as realized that no one had filled in the line behind him. He and the lady in blue were the only ones on the platform as the next gondola rolled around.

"Perks of staying on the mountain..." the thought echoed again in his head, a different tone accompanying it this time. The doors opened and he and his new companion boarded together. Sitting opposite each other, they quickly settled in.

"Ok, you can do this. It's only a few minutes to the top." Scott's internal encouragement occupied him as he popped his goggles over his head and slid his mask down, fully exposing his face. The snowboarder did the same, almost in unison. Her deep brown eyes caught Scott off guard, their warm honey tones such a stark contrast to the harsh glare off the snow. Her fair complexion gave way to dark rings of hair around the edges, shining despite their mahogany color. The freckles across her nose nearly made Scott's head spin as he took her in. She flashed him a sly smile, almost as if she was aware of the momentary stupor she had put him in.

"Salut, mon ami. Belle ajourd'hui, no?" The words seems to dance off her tongue. The apparent language barrier was the least of Scott's concerns. The way her sultry voice wiped his mind blank was far more worrisome. He recovered in time to utter the first French phrase he learned in preparation for his trip.

"Je ne parle pas Français." He got it out, but it was clumsy. The woman laughed heartily, the sound filled the gondola and could have filled the whole mountain range.

"No worries, I can speak your language too." She replied, clearly fluent in English. But the slight accent sent a tingle down Scott's spine. "You traveled from far?" She asked.

Scott shrugged, trying to keep his cool. "Skiing isn't the same where I'm from. I came here to get the best of the best."

She cocked an eyebrow at his words, and extended a mitten-clad hand.

"I'm Camille. It's a pleasure to meet you" she said with a quick glance down to Scott's boots and back to his face. Scott introduced himself and took stock of the of the time left in their gondola ride. Usually itching to get the to the top, he found himself hoping this one would never end.

As the lodge got smaller behind them, Scott and Camille swapped stories of their best and worst days on the slopes, not daring to cross the line into personal questions but not letting the conversation falter. By the time the unloading platform came into view, Scott felt as if he had known Camille since he was born. Thoughts of missed connections and lost opportunities filled his mind as they crested the peak and began to unload. Camille did not seem to share his worries, at least not outwardly.

"Good luck on your first run!" He called out to her as they strapped up and began to part ways. She turned and waved, her face was covered once again but Scott would forever be aware of the radiant beauty concealed underneath.

The snow was fresh, the sun was shining, and the music in Scott's headphones coupled with the whooshing sound of the powder drowned out any social anxieties on his way down the mountain. This is what he was here for, it was a chance to push himself physically, to exist as man and mountain, riding a precarious edge of thrill and speed as he hurtled through valleys and in and out of forested glades. Oddly enough, despite the exhilaration of each run Scott found himself on the lookout for a teal jacket each time he reached the gondola line. He never found it, brushing off the disappointment and getting hyped for another run.

As the sun began to set, Scott could feel the day taking a toll on his legs. "Time for the second best part about skiing." He mused, looking ahead to a warm lodge and a tall beer. Shaking off the snow at the base of the mountain, he entered the lodge for the first time. As simple as the slopes had been, largely unmarked and open where he was, the dining options in the lodge were far more intimidating. He was not familiar with the local cuisine and took some time strolling around, trying to find a place to settle in. As he rounded the corner at the top of a wooden staircase, his heart skipped a beat. Snowboard boots covered by white snow pants. Long, dark hair held in check with a teal headband. Camille! And at an otherwise unoccupied table no less. Scott steeled his nerves and approached the table.

Camille recognized him immediately, and her eyes sparkled like the embers in the nearby fireplace. He sat across from her, the small table bringing them closer then they had been on the gondola.

"I don't mean to be too forward, but I was hoping to see you again after our ride this morning. I guess luck is with me tonight." Scott said, finding some confidence in the ale he had brought to the table.

Camille smirked and rolled her eyes playfully. "The first French woman you meet and you can't her out of your head?" She teased. "I guess I should take it as a compliment."

They talked and laughed through their meal, Camille doing most of the ordering and Scott melting, hearing the foreign words drip off her lips. She educated him on the food, teaching him the proper names of each dish, finding amusement in his attempts at pronunciation. When the meal was through, Scott looked around desperately for a way to keep his time with Camille from coming to a close.

"We haven't quite finished these drinks," he pointed out, gesturing to her wine glass and his pint glass. "The balcony looks unoccupied, care to finish out there with me?" Camille gazed longingly at the fireplace before looking back at Scott. His hand closed the short distance across the table, taking her slender fingers in his. "I'll keep you warm out there." He said, understanding her concern.

Overlooking the mountain where they met earlier that day, Scott and Camille stood side by side on the large wooden balcony at the top of the lodge. A chill ran up Camille's back, causing her to shiver against Scott's arm. Sensing the time was right, he wrapped his arm around her, letting his hand dangle down to her waist. Pressing her hip into his, he pulled her closer. She looked up at him, the freckles on her cheeks seeming to imitate the patterns of stars in the sky.

"I'm glad I showed up a little early this morning." She said in a small voice, resting her head on Scott's chest.

"I came here ready to embrace being alone." Scott replied. "That ended as soon as I saw you on the stairs, before I even saw your face."

He took her chin gently in his hand, leaning in close. Their lips connected, and all the chill the mountain could have mustered would not have disturbed the heat between them. The fatigue of the day disappeared and vigor filled Scott's limbs. He thought of his cabin, and all the space he felt when he moved in. Maybe there was room for one more...