This Is How It Ends

“Awesome,” I said. “Point her out, and I’ll troll in that direction.”

“Don’t you dare.”

Trip had continued on without me, and I saw him on the far side of the deck with the girls and John. “You run today?” I asked Matty.

“Are you kidding?” he said. “That course is brutal. You ever done it?”

“About five hours ago.”

Matty whistled. “Impressive. Brains and brawn.”

“You know, Matty,” I said, “you keep talking like that, and I’m gonna start thinking you have a thing for me.”

“Well, now that you mention it . . . ,” he joked. “Actually, I was checking out your friend.”

“Trip? He’s got a girlfriend.”

“No, you idiot.” Matty cleared his throat, suddenly uncomfortable. “The girl. Tannis.”

“Tannis?” My eyebrows shot up. “She’s not—” I stopped, realizing that what I’d been about to say—She’s not a girl—was mean. I might rag on Tannis to her face, but I didn’t want to do it behind her back. “Not seeing anyone,” I finished.

Matty nodded, glancing out at the view. “Maybe you’ll, you know, make the introductions later or something?”

“Yeah,” I said, a little shell-shocked at the thought of it. “I’m gonna go catch up to Nat and those guys.” I nodded toward where they stood.

“Yup,” Matty said, and then added, “I heard there was a bit of a scene at the base lodge today with her dad.”

“A little. No biggie,” I told him, hoping it was true. If there was one cardinal rule in Buford, it was that you didn’t mess with tourism. I guess Nat’s dad hadn’t gotten the memo. I walked toward Nat, feeling bad that even Matty knew about it. His sister had probably told him, but still. It was one of the things I hated about Buford. Everyone knew too much about everyone else.

By the time I made it across the deck, Nat and John Peters had ducked back inside, where the rest of the ski team was, and Mr. Peters had taken their place with Trip and Sarah.

“It was nothing,” Trip was saying.

“You’re too modest,” Mr. Peters said. “That was damn ugly. Bill Winston was steaming mad. Wants to press charges. I don’t think anyone at the mountain knew what to do, but word is, you diffused it perfectly.”

Trip waved his hand in an Aw, shucks sort of way.

“What are your plans after graduation?” Mr. Peters asked him.

“I’m not sure,” Trip said. “College, I guess.”

Mr. Peters nodded. “Well, whatever it is, I’m sure you’ll do great. Thanks for helping us all out today.” He stuck out his hand to shake. “I’m off to make sure there’s no other trouble. After that Milosevich girl’s OD, a snowless winter, and now today, it’s the last thing we need.”

“Bad things happen in threes,” Sarah said.

“Hope you’re right.” Mr. Peters waved and walked away.

Trip, Sarah, and I stayed there for a while, talking to the kids around us, some of them from our classes, some having run the Dash today too. At one point I spotted Matty talking to Tannis, both of them half a head taller than anyone else around. Unbelievable.

The football guys started an arm wrestling tournament inside and summoned Trip. “You mind?” he asked Sarah, already being dragged off by Galen.

“Go.” She smiled, waving him away, leaving just her and me.

“You want to get a drink or anything?” I asked after a few seconds of quiet.

“I’m okay,” she said. “You want something?”

“No. I’m fine too.”

We stood, awkwardly looking at the people around us, until Sarah suggested we move closer to the hot tub. “I like the colors,” she said.

The Peterses had put it in the far corner, with the most sweeping views of the valley.

“Not quite as good as when we were at the summit today,” I said, looking out over the smattering of lights. “But not bad.”

“We had a good run,” she said, smiling. “Didn’t we?”

“We beat Trip,” I said.

“And that’s all that matters.” Sarah laughed and held up her palm for another high five.

I clapped her hand gently, and she tilted her head, grinning. “You can give me a real high five, Ri. I won’t break.”

“Sorry,” I said. “I didn’t want to be too rough.”

“You’re not the rough type,” she said, holding up her hand again. I hit it harder, the smack loud enough that the person behind her looked over.

“Ow!” Sarah frowned, shaking her hand.

“Oh!” I said. “I’m sorry—”

“I’m kidding, Riley.” She grinned, rolling her eyes. “You worry too much about other people.”

“I do?”

Sarah nodded, looking out across the dark hills. “It’s not a bad thing,” she said. “But sometimes you have to worry about yourself, too.”

“I worry about myself plenty.”

She smiled. “Maybe ‘take care of yourself’ would have been a better way to phrase it.”

“Hmmn,” I said noncommittally, not sure what to think of what Sarah thought of me or that she’d been thinking about me at all or whether I was overthinking this. Which I’m sure I was, because I worried about myself plenty. Like I’d told her.

“Do you like it here, Riley?” she asked.

“It’s better than standing in the middle of the crowd.”

“Not here, next to the hot tub,” she said. “I meant in Buford.”

My “no” was automatic—on the tip of my tongue—but I stopped to really consider it, and finally told her, “Yes. But I don’t want to stay.” I picked at the railing, adding, “Mostly because the people who make me like it will be leaving.”

She was quiet, and I could feel her watching me, the party noise all around us but feeling far away. “Will you leave too?” she asked.

“Someday.”

She nodded. “That’s why you’re dreaming about dorm rooms, huh?” I knew right away she was talking about the binoculars. Deepest wishes. She continued before I could ask her what she’d seen, “You know what I like about you, Riley?”

I looked at her, my heart beating harder at the way it sounded. Her dark eyes reflected the underwater lights—green then pink then blue. I should say something funny, I thought. But it was hard to think with her so close, and the sweet warm smell of her intoxicating. “What?” I asked thickly.