Page 93 of Secrets and Lies
“That was you?”
“That was me,” I confirm.
“I thought you said you couldn’t do flips and stuff,” he says, his neck flushing soft red with a blush.
“I said I can’t do what the twins do,” I correct. “I have a few tricks up my sleeve, I just know my limits.”
“You guys really are adrenaline junkies,” he says. “Like the whole concept of throwing yourself down the side of a mountain with long planks of fiberglass or whatever they’re made of tied to your feet is crazy enough, but you were like, let’s add flips and twists and other acrobatics because why not?”
“We’ve never claimed to be sane.”
“Can I see another one?” he asks, his voice timid all of a sudden.
Instead of answering, I open the next file.
He looks completely enthralled as he watches the opening sequence, and I’m not surprised when he lets out a loud gasp at a shot of Rath doing his signature move.
“What the actual fuck?” West looks between me and the screen a few times, his eyes wide with shock. “Did he justlevitate?”
Chuckling, I move the counter back and replay the shot so he can see it again.
In it, Rath boards down the first half of the hill like it’s any other run, but just as he reaches the bench, or the flat part that cuts through the middle of the hill, he tips over and falls onto his side.
But instead of wiping out, he stays controlled and sort of skims over the bench so it looks like he doesn’t even touch the snow before clearing it. Then he finishes the move with a simple flip that makes the entire sequence of events look flawless and easy.
“It took him months to nail that,” I tell him and drag the counter back to play it again for him. “Now he won’t stop doing it because he’s the only one of us who can.”
“How many times have you wiped out?” he asks as the shot transitions to one of the twins going off-piste, or skiing down an unmarked and ungroomed part of the mountain.
“Too many to count.”
“How many bones have you broken?”
“None.”
“Ever?” He shoots me an incredulous look.
I shake my head.
“You played hockey, and you love things that go faster and don’t have brakes, and you’ve never broken anything?”
“Nope.”
“You’re either lucky as fuck, or you’re a freak.”
“I mean, Iama freak.” I lean closer like I’m sharing sleepover secrets with him. “But not because I have unbreakable bones or anything like that.” I lower my voice a bit more. “Morelike I’m into some things that most people would consider…unconventional.”
West clears his throat, and I sit back in my seat as more of that red flush creeps up his neck and he squirms in his seat.
“Oh yeah?” he says, his voice high and strained.
“Yeah, but the no breaking bones thing is definitely luck,” I tell him as he shifts in his seat again and not so subtly tries to hide the noticeable bulge in his sweats. “I’m honestly surprised I haven’t been hurt worse with some of the yard sales I’ve had.”
“Yard sales?”
“When you wipe out so bad you lose your gear,” I explain. “And it gets left scattered on the hill behind you, like a yard sale.”
“So what I’m hearing is that you’re recklessandcrazy.”
