A/N: This was my gift for twitina for the Twilight Gift Exchange, with skiing as the general prompt. It's pure fluff. Given the angst-fest of my most recent story, I figured this would be a nice change of pace. Thanks for reading!

Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight.

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"I felt my lungs inflate with the onrush of scenery—air, mountains, trees, people. I thought, 'This is what it is to be happy.'"

~Esther Greenwood

The Bell Jar, by Sylvia Plath

BPOV

A frigid blast of wind assaulted my face the second I stepped off the bus. It was a raw, bone-chilling day in February, and my stupid class President and his dumb minions had decided to blow all our student council money on a four-day ski trip. I wasn't on student council because I wasn't popular and I wasn't cool, but I still protested. Well, in silence. I didn't do a lot of protesting unless my driver's license was at stake.

Mike Newton, the Prez as he so affectionately called himself, had a thing for athletic activities. He had proposed three things for the annual class trip: football/cheerleader camp, tickets to the Olympics (he didn't realize this was an off year), and a ski trip. Vail got shot down by the administration, so here we were just a few hours from Forks at some shady, run-down lodge off the interstate.

Jessica, the Vice President, had enthusiastically endorsed the idea, because she endorsed everything Mike did. There were no votes, no class reps; Forks High School was an anarchy, and Mike was its dictator. As far as I knew, he didn't even know I existed.

"I think my left nut just froze off," Mike chortled with his friends, as he rushed past me with a duffel bag full of random gear. I didn't have gear. I didn't even know what "gear" entailed, because I had never in my life set foot on a ski slope.

"You okay, Bella?" Angela asked, and even though her lips were frozen like mine, she tried to smile.

I nodded, tightening the scarf around my face. Only my eyeballs were exposed to the elements, and even that was too much. I wondered if your eyeballs could get frostbite, just like your fingers.

We walked in silence to the lodge, and when Angela and I got there, everyone had already dispersed to their rooms. I looked around the lobby, surveying the ancient furniture, oak-paneled walls, and stuffed deer heads. It wasn't exactly tacky, but it wasn't classy, either. The owner, who was sitting behind the front desk, looked older than God.

"Looks like there are four of us to a room," Angela said, pointing to the master list on the wall. Angela and I had signed up together, but it looked like Victoria and Tanya had ended up with us, too. They were both blonde and beautiful, quite unlike me. But at least they didn't worship Mike like Lauren and Jessica did.

"Sounds amazing," I mumbled.

"Don't worry," she said. "After all the skiing, you'll be so tired you won't even notice who's sleeping next to you."

##

An hour later, after a scalding hot shower and an attempt to put on as many layers as possible, all fifty-four of us were beginning our slow trek down the hill to the ski lifts. I had never skied before, and therefore had no snow pants or goggles or whatever else skiers own, so I just went for layers. Four pairs of pants, five shirts, three pairs of socks, and just as many gloves. I had borrowed Charlie's ski mask, which made me look like an ex-con.

"You're waddling," Angela laughed, while I tried unsuccessfully to avoid ice and snow on the path. She, on the other hand, looked like a model for one of those ski catalogs: trim black pants, a flattering parka, and a hat that made her look cute rather than homeless. I knew she had skied before, but still. If I stood next to her all day, people might think I was trying to mug her.

"Thanks," I muttered. "So, um, how does this work?"

She shook her head at me, still smiling at my ridiculous get-up. "You mean skiing?"

I nodded. "I mean, how do your feet stay on the skis?"

She laughed again, and even though Angela was my best friend, I could feel my face turning red. "They strap you in, Bella. You rent the boots, and then the skis, and they're connected."

"Connected?" I screeched, but of course the word was muffled by all the layers on my face. "So basically, if I fall, my ankles will break."

"No, no," she said. "I mean, usually the skis come off when you fall, so your ankles don't snap."

"Usually? So, usually my ankles don't snap?"

She let out a long, exasperated sigh. "You'll see, Bella. It'll be fine."

I felt like crying. Or maybe screaming. I wasn't sure. "Is that all I need to know?"

"Well, the ski lift can be tricky," she said. "It's kind of like—"

And then Mike's voice rang out above the crowd, cutting her off. At this point I was too panicked to even respond; no uncoordinated person wanted to hear ski and lift and tricky all in one sentence. What if I fell off it mid-air? Or worse, what if everyone in line saw me do a face-plant? And that was definitely worse, because if I simply fell off the lift, I'd be too dead to care.

"Rentals that way, lifts this way, the bunny slope for pussies right over there," Mike bellowed. "Meet back here at six, or else."

Or else what? I looked at my watch under all those layers, and sighed when I saw that it was only ten o'clock. Eight hours out here? Really? Mike Newton was a fucking nutcase.

"Do you want me to go with you?" Angela asked, her eyes darting back and forth between me and Ben. They both already had their snowboards, which they had brought from home. Angela had told me to avoid snowboards. Skiing was easier to learn, harder to master, while snowboarding was…well, whatever. I wasn't going to learn either one. This whole thing was a lost cause.

"Um," I stuttered, reading the look on her face. I shook my head, because I liked Ben and I liked Angela, and I wanted their elusive romance to finally happen.

"Don't worry so much, Bella," she said. "Just have fun!"

She scampered off toward the lift, leaving me stranded in this Bermuda triangle of lift, rental, and bunny slope. I really liked the idea of sitting in the rental office all day, but I didn't want someone mistaking me for a lost child.

I trudged toward the office, cursing under my breath every time I slipped on the slick dirt paths. There was ice and snow everywhere, which I tried to avoid whenever possible. My clumsiness took on epic proportions during the winter months, and right now, I was really asking for it.

It took me ten minutes to get to the rental place, where a grungy-looking kid with dreadlocks greeted me at the door.

"Size?" he asked.

"What?"

"Shoe size," he said. "For your boots."

"Oh," I mumbled. "Like…seven."

"Height and weight?"

"Um…does that matter?"

"Look, hon, with those eighty layers you have going on, I can't tell if you're a whale or a toothpick. And I need to know so I can give you the right pair of skis."

I pulled my scarf down from my chin, annoyed by the smirk on his face. "Five-four, then. One-fifteen. I don't know."

"All righty," he said. "Stay put a sec, got it?"

I said nothing as he disappeared down the long row of sticks and poles and boards, and emerged seconds later with heavy black boots and a scuffed pair of skis. They looked small to me, but what did I know?

"I got you the smallest ones for your height and weight, okay, chica? Should be easier for you to navigate."

I clenched my fists, sweat prickling on my neck as my anger and humiliation multiplied. Was it that obvious that I was such a noob?

"What about my poles?"

"Well, ya know, I don't recommend poles for someone who's never skied before. You really need to focus on the skis before you deal with the poles—"

"I need poles," I said, a little snarkier than usual. Okay, a lot snarkier.

"All righty," he snickered. "You're the boss."

He assembled the skis, poles, and boots, and handed them over to me. I glared at him as I walked back to the benches, and attempted to put myself together. I knew it would be easier to just sit in here all day, maybe kill some time in the cafeteria, but I wouldn't give Mike Newton that satisfaction. I wouldn't give anyone that satisfaction. I had to go down that hill, even if I broke every bone in my body trying.

"You okay with that?" someone asked, her voice high and breathy in my ear. She was tiny, and she gave Angela a run for her money with her designer jacket and perfect snow pants.

"Um, yeah," I said. "I'll figure it out."

"Here, let me see," she said, taking a seat beside me. I didn't have it in me to protest, so I just kept quiet. She had a kind, friendly face, although I couldn't say how or why I thought so. She just looked like a nice person.

I said nothing while she fiddled with all the buckles and snaps, and when she finished with that, she showed me how to click into my skis. I had to admit the clicking apparatus looked pretty weak, so I really hoped those things would come flying off every time I fell. What little social life I had would implode if I went home with two broken ankles.

"I'm Alice, by the way," she said.

"Bella," I said. "Thanks, uh, for helping me out."

"No problem," she chirped. "It's never easy your first time."

"Have you skied before?"

She smiled, her charcoal eyes bright with amusement. "Many times," she said. "I used to come here pretty often with my brothers."

"Oh," I said. "You must be really good, then."

"I wouldn't say that," she said. "I just know how to buckle and snap things because I fall so much. But my brothers, well. They take it a bit more seriously."

"So you're here with them?" I asked, suddenly anxious for her to stay. I wanted to delay the inevitable skiing disaster, which was fast approaching.

"Mmhm," she said. "But this is a school trip. We usually go to Colorado for long weekends."

"Oh," I said, and I knew she could see me doing calculations in my head. Her family must be filthy rich. Well, at least she didn't flaunt it. She seemed like a nice, genuine person who didn't care that my ski mask was as old as I was.

"Oh, shoot," she said, jumping at the sound of her ringtone. She pulled her phone out of her pocket and checked the message. "It's my brother, I gotta go. I was supposed to meet him out front at 11."

"Okay," I said, reluctant to let her leave. Unless I wanted to spend all day striking up conversation with random people, I would have to face that nightmarish ski lift sometime soon.

"Do you want my number?" she asked. "We could meet up later!"

"Oh, um, sure," I mumbled. My cell phone was buried deep in my layers, somewhere above my fleece and beneath my windbreaker. If she asked me to dig around for it, we'd be in here forever.

"Actually," she said. "What's yours? I'll just text you so you have it."

I rattled it off, grateful that my lips had thawed since this morning. She smiled and stood up, her fingers pinging on the keys as she typed.

"Done!" she said.

"Great," I said, managing a weary smile. I wouldn't mind having lunch with this person, but if she asked me to ski with her and her brothers, I would have to come up with a very convincing excuse. No matter what excuse I used, though, I had a feeling she'd see right through it.

"And Bella," she said, helping me to my feet as I struggled with the damn poles. The boots were heavy and cumbersome, and already my ankles were sore.

I looked up, preparing for another flippant comment about having fun and worrying less and enjoying myself. But I wasn't surprised when she said something else. I wasn't surprised because this stranger, as different as we were, seemed to understand me.

"Have you ever read The Bell Jar?" she asked.

I nodded, knowing right then what she was trying to say. And maybe I read too much or liked depressed writers or just had a thing for Sylvia Plath, but apparently she did, too. And it meant something, because I felt better.

"It's like that," she said. "It's just like that."

##

Twenty minutes later, I was standing at the bottom of the bunny slope. I knew it was the bunny slope because there was a big sign that said BUNNY SLOPE, and it was right next to the day care center. Someone had handed me a trail map, and I'd also come to understand that green meant good. Look for the green circles, and stay away from everything else. Blue meant danger. Black meant death.

I found a patch of level, soft snow, and threw my skis onto the ground. They rattled against each other and landed in a criss-crossed heap at my feet. I tried to bend over and lay them flat, but my thick layers prevented me from reaching the ground. So I had to just plop myself next to them and hope for the best. Unfortunately, I couldn't click them in while sitting, so I had to stand up and try again.

I got one ski clicked in easily enough, but the other one gave me trouble. Not just trouble. Serious, grievous, unsolvable problems. Every time I clicked that other ski in, I lost my balance and fell over. I looked like a lone domino, toppling over each and every time that stupid click sounded in my ear. The layers saved me from any permanent bruising, but I couldn't say the same for my dignity. I almost gave up when a six-year-old came over and offered to help.

An hour passed before I was able to stand—just stand, no movement—on two skis. So I stood there for ten minutes, admiring the world on these useless, death-defying sticks. As soon as I tried to move, I fell.

And fell. And fell some more.

Finally, after what felt like hours, I said screw it and headed for the lift. It was a little lift, the bunny slope lift, because it had one of those green circles next to it. The chairs and wires quickly disappeared into the trees, but I knew it ended just beyond the hill. There were people skiing out of the trees onto the bunny slope, so this had to be the right one.

The lift was crowded, and I was the only one standing in line with my skis off. Apparently people just rolled in here like it was no big deal, but I didn't want to take any chances. I was a pro at clicking into my skis, so when it came time for me to get on the chair, I'd just do it. No problem.

The line moved quickly, the throngs of people melting into each other as we got closer to the lift. I hadn't even seen this thing up close, and at first, I thought it must be broken.

The thing didn't stop moving. Those little chairs attached to a wire just went round and round, and people seemed to be…

Oh, shit.

No.

Fuck no.

I tried to scramble out of line, but I was already deep in the mosh pit of anxious skiers. I somehow got pushed to the front of the line, my eyes wide with the fear of getting onto that rickety, slippery, moving chair.

"I can't—" I managed to rasp, but the operator pushed me forward with a heavy hand.

"Two singles," he said, gesturing toward someone or something off to my left. "Get on."

"Put your skis on," the operator barked at me, and I lay them down at his command, too stunned to respond. I clicked them on and just stood there, frozen in fear and shock and utter desperation.

"Need a push?"

I didn't register it at first, the sound of someone's smooth, liquid voice just inches from my ear. His voice was calming, melodic, and even amidst the chaos, he spoke as if we were the only two people sitting in a quiet room.

I tried to turn my head, but by then the chair was coming around and I was suddenly moving forward. Someone had given me a little push, and then I felt another person's arm in mine and the chair hit the back of my knees with a dull thud. The whole thing took me by such surprise that I pitched forward, and I thought for sure my face-plant nightmare was coming true.

But instead the mysterious, quick-thinking stranger reached out with his arm and held me back, keeping my body in the seat. My skis slid along the platform and then lifted, the chair carrying us into the air with a swift, breathtaking whoosh.

Wow, I thought, looking down at the expanse of white beneath my feet. I kind of liked the chair lift.

Once I started breathing again, I began to realize just how close I had come to killing myself in front of hundreds of people. That operator had shown no signs of turning the thing off; I doubted there even was a power button. If some stranger hadn't shown up, hadn't helped me, hadn't held me in the seat…

And then I remembered that the stranger was sitting right beside me, saying nothing, his snowboard dangling from his long legs. The chair was swaying a little bit, but he didn't seem to notice. In fact, he seemed to have forgotten I was sitting here.

"Um, thanks," I said, but even to my ears the words were unintelligible. I didn't even think he heard me, but he turned around at the sound of my voice, his searing green eyes probing my very soul.

Somehow, by the grace of God or the devil or some unknown force, I had ended up on a chair lift with the hottest guy in the place. And probably not just the place. No, definitely not just the place. Most likely the state. Maybe the country.

I swallowed hard, wishing I hadn't said anything. I felt ridiculous for a thousand different reasons, and while I usually found a way to deal with my own insecurities, this kind of thing didn't fit into my daily life. I didn't even talk to guys, for the most part. I was shy and awkward and ordinary. I sure as hell didn't talk to gorgeous guys in enclosed spaces, that was for sure.

"For?" he asked, a little smile teasing at his lips. God, he was handsome. I looked down at my hands and tried to disappear.

"For the push," I said, which came out all wrong. For the push, Bella? Jesus.

"Well, it looked like you needed one," he said. "Laws of physics and all that."

"Yeah," I said, not daring to look up. "I, um…I'm new to this."

"I could tell," he said, and I could hear the smirk in his voice. So I looked up, because if there was anything I couldn't stand, it was mindless teasing.

"How?" I asked, the snarkiness returning. But I realized then that I was wrong, that he wasn't trying to mock me or tease me or embarrass me; his eyes were intense but kind, and they reminded me of Alice, my savior in the rentals office.

"Well, I mean, you walked in line," he said. "That was a bit of a giveaway."

"As opposed to…"

He chuckled. "Skiing," he said. "You know, just gliding in there."

"I didn't see you gliding," I huffed. "You only have one foot clicked in."

He looked down at his boot, which was resting on the clips. The snowboard apparatus didn't make sense to me. They were really nothing like surfboards, because as far as I knew, surfboards didn't have boots and clicks and straps. You just got in the water, stood up on your board, and that was it. The fact that snowboards required all these cumbersome add-ons really irritated me for some reason.

"True," he smirked. "In line, I take one foot out so I can move myself along."

"So that's kind of what I did, except I had two feet out."

He laughed, never once taking his eyes from mine. He had a carefree, boyish laughter, and a breathtaking smile. I felt myself blushing and looked away.

"So do you have a plan for getting off?" he asked.

"Getting off?" I swallowed the lump in my throat. That didn't sound right.

"Yeah," he said. "The lift."

"Oh, well, yeah. I'm just going to unclick my skis and step off."

"What?" he asked, his eyes wide. I sank into my seat a little bit, and flushed under his steady, questioning gaze.

"I mean…that's how it works. Right?"

He shook his head, a gentle but concerned smile making its way onto his face. "Not quite," he said. "You have to ski off the lift."

Within seconds I was feeling sick, as if someone had punched me in the gut. Ski off the lift? I had yet to actually "ski." All I had done so far was just stand there on my skis, and even that was a challenge. How the hell was I supposed to ski off a moving chair lift?!

"I…I can't—"

"Calm down a second," he said. "First of all, can you tell me your name?"

"My…my what?" I was in a daze, contemplating my impending death. Because death was coming for me. In fact, I was already in death's grip, right here in this chair. It was just waiting to finish me off.

"Your name," he said. "Mine's Edward, by the way."

"Um, Bella," I said. "It's Bella."

"Bella," he said, the word slipping from his tongue like rain. Something in me responded to it, something warm and unexpected.

He didn't say anything for a few seconds, as if he were contemplating something. And then he leaned a little closer, and my breath hitched in my throat. I prayed he hadn't heard it; God, that was embarrassing. Was I really that transparent?

"Anyway," he said. "You need to ski off the lift. I'll help you."

"Help me?" I rasped. "How? I don't know how to ski. I can't even move. I'm going to fall into the abyss—"

"I'll carry you," he said. "It's easy."

I didn't know why the thought of him carrying me made my stomach flip and my heart stop, but it did. Unfortunately I had to reject that idea, because we would both die if he tried to carry me off a moving apparatus.

"No," I said. "No way. That wouldn't work."

"All you have to do is lean into me. I'll do all the work. Okay?"

I nodded, not because I agreed with him, but because I didn't have a choice. If he wanted to commit suicide with me, then that was his choice.

"Um, excuse me," I mumbled, after a few more minutes had gone by. He turned to face me again, and it almost seemed as though he had been waiting for me to say something. His eyes danced with excitement, and for one strange but perfect second, I wondered if I made him nervous.

"Yeah?" he said.

"Where are we going?"

His brow furrowed in confusion, and then something seemed to dawn on his face. "We're going to the top," he said. "Where did you think we were going?"

"The top? The top of the mountain?"

"Well, yeah," he muttered, and much to my surprise, he looked worried. Well, he had no reason to worry. But I sure did.

"I thought…"

"You thought what?"

"I thought it was going to the top of the bunny slope."

"Well," he said, a little smile returning to his face. "You don't want to go there anyway. The bunny slope has a lousy view."

"But I can't—"

"I'll help you," he said. "Didn't you believe me the first time?"

I smiled at that—not an all-out grin or anything, because I was still scared out of my mind—but enough for him to notice. He smiled, too, and lifted the bar over our heads.

"You ready?" he asked.

I looked up, glimpsing the little hut and platform in the distance. We were moving just as quickly as before, and I wondered if they bothered to slow this thing down at all once we got there. I doubted it, judging by the way we'd gotten on.

"Edward…"

"Yeah?"

"If I fall—"

"You won't," he said, as he snaked his arm around my waist. "I promise."

Instead of tensing up, every muscle in my body seemed to relax with his touch. His left hand held onto my waist, while he held my poles in his right. The chair lurched toward the platform, groaning and creaking and whining the whole way, and if I had been on this thing alone, I knew I would have just stayed on the chair and ridden it all the way back down again. There was no way I could jump off a moving chair. There was no way I could have done this by myself.

I didn't know the first thing about this person, but I trusted him. And I didn't know why or how or for what reason, but I did. I looked at him and managed a weak, but knowing smile. I hoped he understood.

When the platform finally rose up beneath our feet, he hoisted me up with one arm and guided me down the ramp while my skis barely touched the ground. I held my breath, picturing our impending doom, but it never came. We glided to a stop well off to the side, right by the sign that said THE TERMINATOR. I saw the black diamond next to it and cringed.

"Bella?" he asked. "You okay?"

"I'm okay," I said, snapping myself back to the present, and to the fact that this glorious human being named Edward was still holding onto me. As soon as he let go, I knew I would fall. Somehow, he seemed to know that, too.

"I, um…is there a snowmobile in that hut up there?"

His eyes narrowed. "Snowmobile?"

"Yeah, I mean, I need one to take me down—"

"I'm not calling the snowmobile," he said. "Don't even think about it."

"Look," I said, wobbling in his arms. His grip tightened around my waist, and like a force of nature I couldn't control, a warm, dizzying heat rose in my cheeks. It was almost electric, his body so close to mine, our skin separated by only a few layers. Well, in my case, more than a few. But I couldn't help but wonder…

"Look," I continued, shaking that thought from my head. "I can't ski down this hill. So I'll call the snowmobile, and I'll hang out in the cafeteria, and I'll call it a day."

"I know you can't ski down this hill," he said. "But I can, and you're coming with me."

"I'm not letting you carry me down the whole way—"

"I'm not carrying you. I'm just giving you a push. Just like before."

I sighed, wondering for the thousandth time how I'd gotten myself into this mess. No matter how phenomenal a skier Edward was, he couldn't get me down a black diamond without a major struggle. And I didn't want him to struggle. As much as I hated to admit it, I didn't want him to see me at my most uncoordinated.

"Edward, I can't." I looked up at him, reading him, trusting him, wishing he would understand. But of course he understood. If he didn't, he would have abandoned me before we even got on that chair lift. He knew I was stubborn, and he knew I wanted him to go because it wasn't fair to him.

"If you're afraid, Bella, I can call the snow patrol. If you're tired, I can call them. But if you're worried about ruining my day because you need me to help you down the hill, then we're going to be up here all afternoon arguing about it."

I looked down at my gloves, annoyed and irritated and bewildered by the tears misting in my eyes. Sure, I was insecure and shy and clumsy, but at least I had my pride. I didn't want to sacrifice that, not like this.

"I'm going to fall," I said.

"I fall, too."

"No, you don't."

He smiled, but it was a warm, reassuring smile. "I used to."

I rolled my eyes, but couldn't help the smile making its way onto my face. I looked back at him, my hands on my hips, my skis steady beneath my feet.

"Okay," I said. "But for every five times I fall, you have to fall, too."

##

Much to my delight, Edward didn't take us on THE TERMINATOR, which frankly scared the crap out of me. Instead he found another route, a narrow, out-the-way trail that wound its way through a thick forest of pines. It was a gentle slope, with soft snow and only a few other people. I liked the isolation of it, hidden away in the snow-covered trees like some kind of escape.

"You carried me that whole way," I protested, once we reached the top of the trailhead. Edward had done his ski-lift trick, lifting me with one arm so that my skis barely touched the ground. But now that we were standing at the top of the trail, his grip loosened around my waist.

"That was the warm-up," he said, giving me that little crooked smile of his. "Now that you've got your ski legs."

"I don't think ski legs will ever happen for me."

His eyes twinkled with trust, and amusement, and a little bit of mischief, as he let me go and watched me teeter on my unsteady legs. We were standing on level ground, so I knew what was coming.

"Just a little push," he said. "And I'll be right beside you the whole time."

"How do I stop?"

"Don't worry about stopping."

My eyes narrowed. "Isn't stopping the most important lesson? I thought I read that somewhere…"

"No," he said. "Letting go is the most important lesson. But first, just do the pizza wedge."

I looked up at him, admiring his height every time I did so. He towered over me, which made me feel small, but protected. Plus the height difference seemed to help with the carrying. "The pizza wedge?" I asked.

"Yeah, unfortunately I can't show you because I have a board, but basically just angle your skis so they look like a pizza slice. You'll go slower that way."

"Okay," I said, adjusting my stance. I lost my balance almost instantly, but he swooped in to catch me before I fell.

"Good start," he said.

"That was awful."

He chuckled, his eyes dancing with their usual mischief. "It was good," he said. "Just keep trying."

And so I did, although it was very slow going. I slipped and wobbled and messed up, but Edward was always there to catch me. And then suddenly, almost without my noticing, he just let me go.

It was a very gradual, very easy slope, but it was enough to keep my momentum going. I kept my knees bent, my skis angled inward, my eyes focused so hard on the ground that I didn't notice the little bump up ahead. By the time I did, it was too late to do anything about it, and I tripped over my skis and landed in a heap.

"Goddammit," I muttered, hoping Edward hadn't seen that. But of course he had. He was only a few feet behind me, watching my every move.

"You let go," I said, looking up at him. I was still sitting on the ground, taking a much needed breather.

"You have to fall sometime," he said. "It's part of the process."

"You knew I was going to fall?"

He crouched down, and extended his hand to help me up. I just sat there for a few seconds, transfixed by the kindness in his eyes, and the innocence in his smile. He looked college-age, but his smile made him seem so much younger.

"I can carry you the whole way," he said. "I just thought…I thought it'd be better if you tried."

"I want to try," I said. "I want to fall."

"Are you sure?" He seemed a little worried now, as if the sight of me on the ground had given him second thoughts.

I managed a weary smile, but it was genuine. "Yes," I said. "I'm sure."

I took his hand and he helped me up, taking my breath away with the sudden movement. I wouldn't mind falling a thousand times if it always ended like this, with Edward taking my hands in his, and holding me close.

"Thank you," I breathed, my cheeks flushing at the close contact. He smiled shyly and stood back, while I clicked my skis into place and tried again.

I fell again, of course. And then again, and then again. But on the fifth try, I veered off course and found myself heading for the woods, before Edward swooped in to save me. I fell anyway, but this time, he fell, too.

I was used to my dainty, pathetic little spills, but Edward fell in grand fashion. By the time he hit the ground in a heap of skis and poles and him, I was laughing so hard it hurt. He was laughing, too, of course. Laughing because yes, it was probably planned, but he had done it with gusto. And his heap was part of my heap, because we had fallen together and now he was lying on top of me, his face just inches from mine as our laughter faded into a sudden, palpable tension that was buzzing between us.

"Shit, did I hurt you?" he asked. "Did I land on you?"

"No," I said, my voice so thin and breathless I almost didn't recognize it. My heartbeat was so loud it was almost deafening, and I thought for sure he could hear it, too. And if he did, what would he think? Would he care? Would he laugh at the thought of this awkward, boring girl being so noticeably attracted to him?

"Okay," he said, but he didn't move, and he didn't get up. Every nerve in my body was humming with anticipation, as we just lay there beneath the snow and the trees and the weak, wintry sunlight.

"Bella," he said, his voice quiet, almost a whisper.

"Yeah?" I asked, because it was the first word that popped into my head. That and the fact that I was nervous, more nervous than I'd ever been, because he kept looking at my lips and back up at my eyes and I was worried I might die on the spot if this beautiful stranger actually kissed me.

"You're really cute when you fall."

I smiled, rolled my eyes. "Thanks," I said. "I try."

He smiled, too. "You're welcome."

"Bella," he said again, and my heart was beating so furiously I thought for sure it would burst into flames. But I didn't want it to stop. I didn't want any of it to stop.

"Mmhm?"

"Do you, um, need this ski mask?"

I laughed at that, remembering the hideous black thing on my face. Then again, if I took it off, would he be disappointed? I had never thought of myself as anything but average, and he could probably get any girl he wanted just by breathing on her.

"Not really," I said. "You're not a fan?"

"Well, I mean, it's okay. I mean, no actually. I'd much rather be able to see your face."

"Why?"

His brow furrowed at that, as if I had asked a taboo question. "Because I can't…"

"Can't what?"

"Never mind," he said, as he leaned back and stood up. He reached his hand out to help me up, but I didn't take it.

"Bella, come on. You'll freeze if you don't get up."

I had a stubborn streak in me, and he knew it. Even though we were only strangers, he knew it.

"What can't you do, Edward?"

He shrugged, dropping his gaze to snow-covered leaves. "I can't…I can't stand looking at that mask when I can tell how fucking beautiful you are under all those layers."

I blushed a deep, pulsing red, which I knew he could see. But I wasn't just blushing from embarrassment this time; I was angry, too. Angry because as much as I wanted to believe he was telling me the truth, I couldn't give in so easily. I refused to fall for the first hot skier who paid me any attention.

I scrambled to my feet, cursing myself for needing his help. But of course he gladly gave it, and soon I was standing in his arms again, feeling truly safe and secure for the first time in my life.

"Here, take it," I said, pulling the hideous mask over my head. My thick brown hair tumbled down my shoulders, and I didn't even bother pulling my hood back on. There was no wind in the shelter of the trees, and I wasn't even cold anymore.

He didn't say anything, didn't even move while I shuffled out of the trees and back onto the slope. But I knew enough about human beings to know what had happened back there.

He wasn't try to flatter me. He wasn't patronizing me, or teasing me, or just being nice.

This perfect specimen of a human being was attracted to me.

"Bella, wait," he said, cursing under his breath as he navigated a few stray branches. I had carried my skis and poles out of the trees, and now they were lying in a heap at my feet.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I don't want you to catch a cold or something."

"It's okay," I said. "I don't need it."

"Are you sure?"

"Yup," I said, enjoying the subtle shift in power. Now I was teasing him, and I wondered if he knew it.

"Onward, then?" he asked.

"The deal's still on, right?"

He smiled that crooked smile of his, and tucked my hat into his pocket. "Of course," he said.

"Are you going to make me take something off every time I fall?"

His eyes went wide, his smile vanishing. I heard him clear his throat, and when he spoke, his voice sounded a little different, a little deeper.

"Well, uh, no," he said. "I mean, unless…"

"Unless?"

"Unless you want to get naked on a ski slope," he said, his smirk returning.

"I'll have to think about that one," I teased, as I clicked my boots into place. I balanced myself on my poles, but instead of getting a little push like I expected, Edward leaned over and whispered in my ear.

"You really are beautiful, Bella," he said, and then he pushed me, and let me go.

##

It took us two hours to get to the bottom of the mountain, or hill, as Edward called it. But it sure felt like a mountain to me. The air was crisp and chill, the sky a crystal, wintry blue. The view wasn't something you'd read about in National Geographic, but I appreciated it just the same. As we descended the hill, I liked the feeling of disappearing into the sea of pines below.

Edward and I talked the whole way down, and he always fell in glorious, ridiculous fashion. Sometimes he threw his poles into the trees, sometimes he screamed like a dying animal, sometimes he tackled me on his way down. It was those falls I liked the most, though. It was those falls that made every cell in my body come alive.

We were almost to the lodge when someone started calling Edward's name, his voice deep and loud, like thunder. A massive, very athletic-looking guy came up beside us, accompanied by the one person I least expected to see. And then it all came together, the way a puzzle just fits into place after you've been staring at it for a long time.

"Bella!" Alice squealed, her eyes as bright as her smile. "You found my brother!"

"Oh," I said, looking up at Edward. He and the other guy seemed utterly lost, but Alice was quick to jump in with an explanation.

"I met Bella this morning," she said. "We ran into each other at the rentals."

"You were renting skis?" the big guy asked her, arching an eyebrow.

"Well, no," she said. "My pole broke and I needed to borrow one. In any case, Bella was in there and we just started talking."

I smiled, grateful that she'd left out the part about my woeful lack of knowledge when it came to ski equipment.

"Well, then, looks like I'm the odd one out," the big dude thundered, as he jutted his hand out to shake mine. "I'm Emmett."

"Nice to meet you," I said. "So you're…Alice's…"

"Brother," he said. "Yeah, I know, none of us look alike. Edward here got all the shitty genes."

"Shut up," Edward said, but he was smiling, clearly used to Emmett's jokes. Edward, of course, had no sign of shitty genes. I was sure he would argue with me on that, but to me, he was pretty flawless.

"Well, yay!" Alice chirped. "We were just going to do another run."

"Oh, I think I'm done for the day," I said. My body hurt everywhere, and my legs felt like Jello. "But you guys go ahead."

"Yeah, I'm kind of hungry," Edward said, which made Alice smile and Emmett raise his eyebrows. I was starting to get the feeling that Edward never, ever missed a run.

"Shit, bro, you turning pussy on me?" Emmett asked, but his expression had softened into a wide, amused grin.

"Just hungry," Edward said, while Alice observed the whole exchange and I blushed a fire-engine red. She had some serious intuition, that one.

"Okay, man," Emmett said. "We'll see you later."

Alice and Emmett glided down the hill toward the lifts, their movements so fluid it made me cringe at the thought of all the spills I had taken. Edward must really think I was borderline disabled.

"Your sister's really nice," I said. "She helped me with my boots this morning."

At this point, I had nothing to hide. After three hours on a ski slope, he already knew me better than 99% of the people at my high school.

"Yeah, she's great," he said. "Sorry about my brother, though. He's, uh, kind of rough around the edges."

"He's nice, though," I said. "I can tell."

He looked over at me, my poles and skis under one arm as he carried them for me to the lodge. I had insisted on carrying them myself, but he had won that argument after I started grabbing my hip in pain.

"How?" he asked.

"I don't know," I said. "It's like a trusting face kind of thing."

He quirked an eyebrow, a flash of amusement crossing his features. "A trusting face?"

"Yeah," I said with a shrug. "You have one."

"Hmm," he said, his lips curling up in a smile. "Well, so do you, you know."

"Can I buy you dinner then?" I asked. His eyes widened, and he stopped in his tracks. Shit, I thought. That totally came out wrong. That came out like a big, fat date request. And I didn't ask people like Edward out on dates.

"Like, as a thank you, I mean…not as a date or anything…" I stuttered, blushing full-force as soon as the word "date" escaped my lips.

He opened the door for me, his eyes never leaving mine as I walked inside. I felt like a fool all of a sudden, as if I had crossed some invisible line.

"Well," he said, leading me to a little table in the corner. "It's unfortunate you asked because I wanted to buy you dinner."

"But why? You don't owe me anything. I owe you for the whole day."

"This isn't as a thank you, Bella. You're the only one with the no-date clause around here."

He smiled his crooked smile, and I couldn't help but smile back. I hadn't been on a date since the previous year's spring dance, when Angela's brother had asked me out of pity. I had just moved to Forks back then, and no one wanted to take a chance on the new girl. Then again, I also looked a little different than last year. Those horrid braces were gone, my curves had filled out a little bit, and my hair had managed to tame itself. Had I misread all those strange looks from people like James, and Laurent, and even Mike? Had I been shooting people down and didn't even know it?

"I mean, if you'd rather not," he began, which brought me out of my trance.

"No, no," I said. "I just…I have to meet my class by six."

He looked up at the clock and frowned. It was quarter to six. My eight-hour ordeal had turned into something I didn't want to end.

"Tomorrow, then?" he said.

"Dinner?"

He smiled. "Ski lift."

##

Edward was waiting at the ski lift at ten the next morning, looking as flawless as ever. I wondered what he looked like under all those heavy layers (although, admittedly, his were a lot thinner than mine), but I doubted I'd ever find out. We were both only here for two more days, and then we would slip back into our own lives, as if we'd never met at all.

I didn't know if Edward was thinking the same thing, but I assumed he was. Neither of us talked about it, although I asked him a million questions about his brother and sister and family back home. His dad was a doctor, his mom was a teacher, and they lived just a few miles outside downtown Seattle. He had never been to Forks, and I told him that was a good thing.

The next few days passed with fewer falls and longer afternoons, and by the last day, I was gliding off that ski lift like a pro. Well, not quite like a pro. The first time I attempted it myself, my skis got all jumbled together and they had to shut down the lift to give me time to collect myself. But Edward had fallen, too, just to make me feel better. And I always did.

No one really recognized me on the slopes with all my layers on, so it was only Alice and Emmett who ever found us on one of the out-of-the-way trails, where we spent most of our time. I liked the isolation of it, the feeling of being away from everyone else. But Edward never looked at me the way he did that first day, and while a part of me felt a little crushed that nothing more had happened, another part of me knew how foolish I was to even hope for it.

On the afternoon of the last day, just as the sun was beginning to set behind the clouds, Edward seemed to settle into an unusual, thoughtful silence. He didn't say a word as we rode the lift—the same one as that first day, the longest one—to the top of the mountain. Given Edward's frequent laughter and easy smile, the whole thing kind of unnerved me. I had to bite my lip to keep from asking him what was wrong.

"Are you okay, Edward?" I asked, when I couldn't stand it anymore.

He turned to face me, a strained, distant smile on his face. Those kinds of smiles didn't suit him. I missed the crooked smile, the mischievous one, the smile I had trusted that very first day.

"Are you?" he asked.

I nodded. "I'm okay."

"Bella," he said, and then he cut himself off, pursing his lips. He dropped his gaze to his lap, and didn't say anything for a few seconds. Meanwhile, my nerves were about to explode.

"I don't know what I'm trying to say," he said. "I just…every time I ride the lift, it's almost as good as the actual skiing. I mean, I know it's a shitty metaphor, but the anticipation is just as good as the real thing, if not better. I like the possibility, you know? I like it almost better than the reality."

"Hmm," I said, but I didn't really understand what he was saying. He leaned a little closer, his arm around my waist as always.

"I don't like it today, Bella, because I'm not looking forward to anything anymore. I don't want to ski down that mountain because I don't want this to end."

I looked up at him, feeling the force of his gaze and the silent plea in his eyes. "You don't want what to end?"

"I think you know what I'm talking about," he said.

"Edward—"

And then the cables started rattling and the lift started swinging, as the platform came up beneath our feet. He held onto me as he always did, not because I couldn't do it myself, but because I preferred it this way. And maybe, judging by the constant placement of his arm around my waist, he did, too.

We stopped at the edge of the trees, the view of the mountain laid out before us. It was a clear, breathtaking afternoon, with the first hints of twilight creeping over the horizon. My heart ached at the sight of so much beauty, and so much promise. And it broke at the thought of losing the one person I wanted to share it with.

"I guess this is our last run," he said, his tone heavy, his eyes surveying the empty landscape.

"It doesn't have to be," I said.

"The sun's setting, Bella. I wish I could stay out here all night with you—"

"Then stay," I said, before I could stop myself. "Stay with me."

"Bella—"

"If I get down the whole mountain without falling, will you stay?"

His eyes widened, and a little smile spread on his face. "Can I carry you, then?"

"All the way down?"

"You don't have to give me a reason to stay, Bella. But I like the thought of carrying you."

"And if you carry me the whole way without both of us falling?"

"Hmm," he mused, as he pulled me a little closer, and ran his hands down my arms, warming the blood in my veins.

He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, and when he spoke, it was like velvet and music and heaven. "How about I kiss you?"

A deep blush rose in my cheeks, which he traced with his fingers. Even though it was frigid on the top of this mountain, his hands were warm, almost feverish, and his touch was electric. My breath hitched in my throat just like that first day, but this time, I didn't really care. I wanted him to know how he made me feel. I wanted him. More than anything.

"Kiss me now," I whispered, giving in to three days of want and need and desire. But he just shook his head, a little smile playing on his lips.

With a breathless, sudden whoosh, he spun me around that we were side-by-side, his arm around my waist. He lifted me up like he had that first time, just as the platform rose beneath our feet. He had traded in his snowboard for skis (to keep up with me, he had said, but I knew better), and for a few seconds he just coasted down the hill, my skis barely touching the ground.

I wasn't clumsy in Edward's arms. I wasn't anything but his. And when, for the first time ever, Edward seemed to lose his balance on his own, I almost didn't notice until we were lying together in the snow.

I didn't even have a chance to say anything before he rolled me on top of him with the same effortless motion that characterized everything he did. He cast his gloves aside and brushed my hair from my face, his eyes searing with intensity, his expression suddenly serious.

"Was that intentional?" I asked, and he shook his head.

"Definitely not," he said. "I don't know how the hell I lost my balance on the one run that counted."

I felt my skin heating with his touch, restoring the blush on my cheeks. I wasn't the least bit cold. Not here, not like this. I felt like every cell in my body was on fire.

"They all counted, Edward," I said. "You've been carrying me since the moment we met."

"Just off the lift—"

"You know what I mean," I whispered.

I didn't expect him to kiss me right then, but when his lips grazed mine in a soft, almost desperate kiss, every part of my being seemed to fuse with his. I kissed him back with the same quiet, feverish desperation, sensing and returning his own desire, because I felt it, too. I didn't want him to go. I didn't want to watch Edward Cullen walk out of my life and never come back.

"Edward," I gasped against his lips. But I didn't stop kissing him, didn't even stop to breathe until we were both gasping for air, ignoring the whoosh of other skiers as they passed us by.

"Stay," he said. "Stay with me on this goddamn mountain if you have to. We'll just ride that ski lift for the rest of our lives."

"Okay," I whispered.

His eyes widened, his expression softening. "Really?"

"I'll ride that ski lift for the rest of my life, if you're on it," I said. "But I'm thinking you could just, you know, visit me instead…"

"When?"

"All the time," I murmured, my lips finding his as the words left my mouth.

He deepened the kiss, sending another deep current of desire racing through my veins. When he finally broke it, his eyes were ablaze with the promise of more than just one more run, just one more hour. "How about next weekend?" he asked.

I smiled, and so did he. "How about every weekend?"

The skiers flew by, the sun set beyond the trees, and the ski lift rattled overhead. All of it reminded me of Edward, of falling down, of getting up, of letting go.

And I thought, as a person who didn't even like skiing once wrote, this is what it is to be happy.

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