I’ve waited for this since I was a freshman—the annual and legendary senior winter trip our private school takes. It was also known as everyone’s early Christmas present, like when Lucy Price got knocked up, or when Jerry Maner got suspended for skiing naked.
After the chaos of claiming our baggage, an hour-long train ride, and twenty minutes in a van that smells like diesel fuel and dead fish, we pull up to the hotel.
Six buildings make up the Edelweiss. The wood juts out at odd but pleasing angles, complemented by curves. When I look up, snow-covered mountains fill most of the sky. I have to lean my head all the way back to see the sun or a tiny slice of blue, and my eyes are watering from the cold. I’m grateful for my faux fur–lined boots, coat and matching gloves, and the resulting toasty toes and fingers, even if it does scream tourist. Still, I head inside before my eyeballs freeze.
The lobby is warm and cheery, and now crowded to all four walls with tired, stinky students. Our teachers corral us into lines so we can check in.
“Willkommen!” The girl behind the desk offers us a bright smile. Her dress—dirndl—is a Swiss Miss fantasy come true, pushing her boobs so high I half expect them to fall out and land on the desk. The bodice is tight, the skirt is short, and the apron seems like an afterthought. Her name tag reads ELKE.
I check in first, and the smile never leaves her face. I think it’s just excellent customer service until Henry steps up to the counter beside me, and I figure out she hasn’t been smiling at me. She’s been smiling past me.
“Welcome.” She takes his parents’ credit card and enters the information into the computer. It takes twice as long as it should because she keeps stopping to look at him.
My chest tightens, a relatively new but altogether stressful response to the way girls react to Henry. It’s not his fault he’s grown five inches taller and his skin cleared up and he finally got his braces off. He’s still my Henry.
Just . . . hotter.
When she hands the card back, she sounds decidedly less local. “My friends and I are having drinks later at Sterndlbar. It’s down in the market. You should come.”
“Are both of us invited?” he asks.
Oh yay. He remembers I’m here.
“You want to bring your sister?” Such a subtle insult. The girl’s a pro.
“Oh, no,” he says, winking at her. “She’s not my sister.”
Elke’s face falls a country mile. “Well then. You’re both welcome. I guess.”
Henry leans closer to the counter. “She’s just like a sister.”
Her smile is big again, and I swear she pushes her boobs together with her arms, creating an endless chasm of cleavage. “I’ll see you tonight.”
“Looking forward to it.”
“Our concierge is just over there.” Back to business, and the accent, Elke points to a man in lederhosen that were probably too short when he was twelve. “He’ll assign a bellboy to help you with your bags.”
“Thanks.” Henry hooks his arm around my neck and pulls me away from the desk.
I jerk free the second we’re out of Elke’s range of vision. We’ve always horsed around, but his touch feels different now, and not just because I stopped winning the fights.
“You’re such a douche.” I busy myself by straightening my scarf with my free hand. Henry takes my bag from my other.
“Proven, scientific fact. Women find men they believe to be attached more attractive.”
I take my bag back. “Are you using your mom’s Cosmos for bathroom reading again?”
“It has really good articles.” He shrugs. “Lobby in an hour?”
I stare.
“Come on, Bex, you have to go with me. You were invited. You can’t be rude. International relations and whatnot.” He shakes his hair out of his eyes, and I can’t help thinking of how soft it felt when he was asleep on my shoulder.
“Fine. I’ll see you in an hour.”
The walk to the market takes forever. I have my faux-fur ensemble, and Henry wears one of those ridiculous fleece hats with the wool-lined side flaps. For some reason, on him, it works. His dark hair is contained, and I can actually see his eyes. I forgot how green they are.
The amber circles of the town market lights shine on the snow as we reach the pub. The bar sign swings merrily above the door, inviting us to come into the warmth and cast off our worries.
Or our inhibitions, as the case may be.
Henry scans the room, and his focus lands on Elke in a booth in the back corner. She has on a berry-red scarf and a matching beret.
“She’s got on so much lip gloss that if you try to kiss her, you’ll slide off her face like a penguin off an ice cap.”
Henry grins, like he could be down for that.
“She’s so obvious.” I scoff, removing my coat and hanging it on a moose-antler rack by the door.
“I’m on vacation. Who needs complications?”
“Right.”
I take off my hat and he reaches out to smooth down my hair after a stealth attack of static electricity. “Your hairdo looks as uptight as you are.”
“I’m not uptight. I’m just . . . selective.” I smack his hand away with more force than necessary.
“It’s a joke.” He waves his fingers in mock pain and then holds them close to his chest, like I’ve injured him. “You can laugh.”
“Oh, I am. On the inside.”
Henry tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. It’s a sweet gesture, but his words don’t go with it. “Come be my wingman?”
I sigh. “You can get off the ground all by yourself.”
“Bex—”
“I’m tired of being a means to an end for you.” I pull away from him. “How come you aren’t ever my wingman?”
“Do you need one?” He honestly looks confused.
This is part of the problem of having a dude for a best friend. They get so used to looking at you, they never see you.
“I’m not asexual, Henry, in case you haven’t noticed.”
He frowns and takes a step back to check me out, starting at my feet and making his way to my face. His gaze stops a couple of times before ending at my lips.
“Henry?”
“Nope.” He shakes his head. “Definitely not asexual.”
He sees me now.
A movement in the corner of the pub catches his eye. I don’t bother looking over my shoulder. Elke and her friend. “Go. No complications, remember?”
I walk away first.
The pub smells like beer and Christmas. Voices are cheery. Holiday music plays in the background, and a fire burns in the hearth. Kids of all ages sit with their parents, and a few even have glasses of cider. European sensibilities.
A guy slings drinks behind the counter. Young, with wild hair and fast hands. Cute. Smiling at me.
No complications.
Sadly, mine will be going home with me, assuming Henry doesn’t get lost in Elke’s cleavage.
I hide behind a gaggle of French tourists for a while to work up my nerve, then make my way to the bar to order a Coke. “And can you put some ice in that?”
The bartender grins. In spite of the goatee, he’s even better looking up close. “Not enough of the cold stuff outside for you?”
“I’d rather have it in my soda.” I watch him for a minute while trying to pragmatically figure out how to do this. Henry’s the flirt. I’m the sarcastic sidekick. How would he handle the situation if he were in my shoes?
He’d start by hitting on a girl.
“You’re Australian?” I ask after I clear my throat.
“British. But I’ll forgive you.”
I know Henry’s staring at me from the way the bartender keeps looking toward the corner. I’m guessing it’s an evil death glare. I have no idea if it’s protective or jealous.