Interim(109)

Regan clenched her jaw.

“Hannah does that for me. That’s just the type of person she is. You’re not like that, and I’m not saying she’s better than you. I’m just saying I needed her kind of compassion—”

“What compassion?” Regan snapped. “Jokes about your dead father? That’s compassion?”

Jeremy sighed. “See? I knew you wouldn’t get it.”

“Oh, that’s right. I’m just on the outside. I don’t fit in with yours and Hannah’s little clique—your clever, we’re-smarter-than-everyone-else club.”

“Regan . . .”

“I don’t know how to make inappropriate comments and act like a sarcastic bitch and share inside jokes with you!”

“Regan, please . . .”

“Why don’t you just go date her!”

“Because she’s gay!”

Regan’s mouth dropped open.

“And because I wanna date you,” he added quickly.

She snorted disdainfully. “Love being the second reason.”

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Yeah, I know,” Regan said.

Pause.

“Why didn’t you tell me she liked you?” Jeremy asked.

“Why would I?”

“Would have made it easier for me to understand the tension between you two—why she pulled away from me when you started hanging out.”

Regan said nothing.

“She’s been my friend for a long time,” Jeremy went on. “She’s helped me through a lot, even though I’m sure she doesn’t even realize it.”

Regan adjusted her hat. Jeremy wasn’t sure what else to say. He sensed her shutting down and searched for words that would force a response.

“I love you,” he said.

“Hmm.”

He bristled. “What does that mean?”

“It means I’m cold. I’m going down.” She looked at him a final time then exhaled softly. “See you around, Jer.”

She slammed her ski poles into the ground and pushed off with as much force as she could, securing her goggles as she picked up speed.

“What the f*ck, Regan?” Jeremy shouted behind her.

She knew he’d come after her, and she squatted deeper, trying to pick up more speed.

“What the f*ck was that?” he barked beside her.

How’d he catch up so quickly?

“Leave me alone!” she yelled back.

He leaned to the right, bumping her arm.

“Watch out!” she screamed. “That’s f*cking dangerous!”

She swerved to her right, trying to put distance between them. He narrowed the gap once more.

“Get the f*ck away from me!” she roared.

“No!”

He whipped out his hand and grabbed her arm at the exact moment he turned his board sharply to the left, breaking hard and fast. There was the slight possibility of ripping her arm out of socket, but it was the chance he’d take for love.

She fell. He fell. They tumbled several yards down the mountain, coated with snow like powdered doughnuts. When they came to a stop, she threw off her eyewear and leapt at him.

“You f*cking idiot!” she screamed, pounding his chest.

“I’m sorry!” he replied, trying to grab her wrists.

“I could have died!”

He snatched her hands. “Stop being dramatic.”

She wriggled out of his grasp and continued her assault.

“I’m not!”

“I knew what I was doing!” he grunted, trying to secure her wrists once more.

“You don’t know what the hell you’re doing!” she screeched.

“REGAN!” he bellowed, inches from her face. “I’ve been beaten up enough!” He tried to stifle the laughter.

“Apparently not!” she countered.

He threw his arms around her hard, flattening her body to his, trapping her in a death grip. He rolled over, pinning her in the snow, watching the anger ebb and flow in her eyes.

“You’re so pretty,” he said softly, smiling down at her.

“Get off of me,” she snapped, panting hard.

“I love you.”

“I don’t care.”

He leaned in and kissed her mouth. She bit him. He reared back in shock, tonguing his bottom lip and tasting the metallic bite of fresh blood. He set his jaw and leaned in once more, kissing her harder. She twisted underneath him, grunting into his mouth.