#jm!exchange

I mean, sure, I thought that if I could snowboard, I would look a lot cooler when my friends and I made impromptu trips to the nearest ski resort. Plus, there were always girls to impress, and snowboarding would definitely make me have a better impression, and possibly also make me more attractive. How much better could you get if you could pull off tricks in midair like all the other snowboarders on the trials that I’ve seen so often?

Needless to say, I was pretty wrong about all aspects of that. And that’s not an exaggeration.

I lie on the ground with a sigh, the sun blinding my goggle-covered eyes. I didn’t really want to get up, or move, for that matter. There definitely wasn’t much motivation left in me - it was the umpteenth time I had fell that day. My muscles weren’t exactly in the best shape for that either, all strained and sore from repeatedly tackling the journey up and down this tiny-ass hill.

We haven’t even gotten halfway down the slope yet. Or, well, me - the rest of the class could stand up and slowly inch down, which is a lot better than what I’ve been doing.

A spray of light snow hits my goggles, making my vision even more impaired. I brashly wiping off said snow as quickly as I could; I do prefer to have my full peripheral view, especially considering my current skill level, okay, how much I suck.

As I arch my back to scan for the perpetrator, a familiar upside-down face looms over me, a lopsided but sympathetic smile stretched on his lips.

"Come on, Jean, try again!" Marco Bodt, my instructor, extends a generous gloved hand towards me.

I have a hard time not getting flustered at his smile. Being like…well, this is pretty embarrassing, and it doesn’t help that Marco’s kinda cute. Hence causing more falling on my part because I keep my gaze on him for a split second too long, or his smile and words of encouragement distract me from focusing on the task at hand.

Speaking about hands, I reject his offer with a quiet shake of my head, all complaints about my physical well-being temporarily forgotten as I push myself off the ground as quickly as I can. I extend my arms for better balance, and wobble a bit before edging into the slope. I’m up again.

Honestly, if it wasn’t for the instructor being cute and all, I’d have given up ages ago.

But I try anyway. Marco heads down the slope with ease, and arrives at where the rest of the class is waiting for me.

I gulp slowly, fatigue immediately returning to my muscles as Marco’s gaze befalls another place other than, well, me - before easing myself into a slow slide, keeping my board perpendicular to the trial like Marco told me to do. So far so good, although I’m fairly certain I’m moving slower than a snail.

Eventually, I make it. You know, after falling on my butt again. Maybe once. Or twice. Or three times. I lost track, to be honest.

The class gives me a standing ovation as I slow to a stop in front of them. Marco beams at me, and the back of my neck reddens just a little bit; hopefully, not noticeably. “Good job, Jean! Keep up the good work.”

“R..right,” I mumble breathlessly, still a bit weary from that short excursion despite his encouragement. This is gonna take a while.

—-

Suddenly, the slope we’ve been practicing on seems a lot smaller compared to the dreaded bunny slope. To be honest though, it was already pretty small to begin with. Because it was, what, maybe a hundred feet or so? And it had a magic carpet instead of the ski lifts I see around. Either way, it was definitely a lot less scarier than what we were about to embark on.

I turn to Marco, who’s putting people into groups of two for the lift. There’s an odd number of students, so I get the fortune to sit next to the cute instructor. Or is it a misfortune?

“A-are you sure we’re ready for the bunny slope?” I ask: although I’m really just referring to me, specifically. The rest of the class is clearly tired of my slow-ass progress, but at this point, even I’ve progressed, so it’ll hopefully go smoother this time round. I hope.

For the girls, Jean, I tell myself.

“Don’t worry, I’ll help you out,” he reassures me with a seemingly light pat on the shoulder that actually almost knocks the wind out of me. Not contrary to his appearance, he’s a pretty buff guy - which, by the way, is pretty contrary to my slightly less… or so to say, buff, body. It’s no wonder I have to take a deep breathe to recover after that.

“I’ll take your word on it then,” I say, but I’m still pretty uncertain. Actually, scratch that. I’m certain I’m uncertain about this. Especially as we’re next in line to get on, and the red line that marks the spot we’re supposed to go to seems a lot more menacing than before. Could I even make it there before the chair comes around?

I’m so enwrapped in my worries that I don’t notice that it’s already our cue to go until a second later, when Marco’s shaking me quickly out of my daze. “Jean, we have to go up, now.”

“F-fuck, yeah!” I scramble back into reality and propel myself with my free foot towards the destination as quickly as I possibly can. Fortunately, I make it without tripping over my board or anything else around me, even though I could’ve sworn that the boulders that I slide over on the way would’ve done something.

I manage to sit down on the lift chair successfully too. So far, this slope is going good. I haven’t messed up majorly, and I’m hoping this karma lasts me, even though I haven’t technically gone on the slope itself yet. But those are just details, right?

I’ve never been on a lift before, so when we shoot up, I can’t help but gasp a little bit. Snow is spread across the hills, tiny dots of vegetation lining the mountain - it’s stunning to see. But a small part of me only sees the hill - it’s much bigger than the slope we were on before. I can only begin to imagine how many times I’ll fall on this one.

Marco must notice my strange contradicting reaction, since I see him lift his goggles and scan me carefully. “You’ll be ok, Jean,” he says in a strangely comforting tone - the kind that I can’t help but believe.

I frown anyways. “We’ll see.”

The rest of the lift is met with peaceful silence. I can’t really complain, with the view being so nice, and Marco next to me, and the fact that I’m not on the verge of a panic attack like I am with snowboarding. But when we pass through the checkpoint, he speaks up again, and that’s when everything goes wrong.

"Jean, we have to lift up the bar now."

I oblige obediently without a second thought, leaning back and helping him lift the hefty bar up. Only then do I realize my awful predicament, and how much of a mistake it was.

"M…Marco, how am I supposed to get off the lift?" We went over how to do it before everyone went on, but I’m absolutely terrified. Especially since he said that it involved snowboarding. Heck, I can’t even stand up and edge down the hill without falling on my butt. How am I supposed to do this?

"Just do what I told you to, and you’ll be okay," he says, and smiles at me reassuringly. His smile calms me down a bit, and I temporarily forget to be scared of it. I’m positively convinced his smile has psychological powers, but as long as they help me, I’m cool with that.

I set my front foot, the one attached to the snowboard, in front of me as I prepare to ‘just stand up and slide off’, as per Marco’s words. He does the same, although I’m pretty sure he’s ten times more confident than me.

The exit point approaches faster than I expect. Must be the phenomenon when the things that you don’t like doing come along faster. It doesn’t help me at all. I fumble a bit with the positioning of my back foot, feeling uncomfortable about the fact that it’s not exactly attached to my board and therefore prone to slipping off when I get off the lift, as if I wasn’t already bad enough.

A second later, and the front of my board slaps the incline, and we’re given a split second to stand up and slide off. Marco gets off easily, looking as professional as he always is, and turns at the end to watch me.

Me, on the other hand… well, let’s just say it wasn’t exactly the best. I stand up as quickly as I can, preparing myself to slide off like my instructor did, but it proves to be slower than what the lift wanted me to do. Before I could even attempt to slam my foot near its restraint and go down the small slope off the lift, it pushes me along at a fast pace - too fast for me, at least.

And of course, I lose my balance and full-on slam into the ground, face planting into the snow at the bottom. At least I’m not in the way. Nevertheless, they stop the lift anyways.

Marco propels himself towards me. “Jean, are you alright?” he asks, sounding pretty concerned, which only makes my initial embarrassment even worse. I’m not exactly the type who likes getting help, so this kind of situation is just… not exactly in my comfort zone.

“Y…yeah,” I heave a bit - I’ve got the wind completely knocked out of me, but I still manage to get myself off the ground and give him a weak nod. I’ve fallen so many times, I’m used to it now, honestly - it’s a bit sad, actually. Not to mention that this is probably the most embarrassing fall yet - they stopped the entire lift for me, for fuck’s sake.

I can feel a significant blush crawling up from the back of my neck. Thank god it’s cold enough so that it’s only contained to an area in which I can cover it up with my coat.

He gives me a hand in getting up completely, since it’s been clearly proven that I can’t handle that by myself, and we both get out of the way of the lift so that it can start up again. I can hear grumbles from the people on the lift chairs, and I start feeling even more embarrassed. Maybe I should really give up on this snowboarding business - I hate being laughed at.

Then I think of the girls I would be able to impress, and silence my meager retorts.

I keep quiet as we head over to where the rest of the class is waiting. They were in the chairs before us, so they probably saw the entire spectacle. I avoid eye contact with all of them, instead focusing on the ground, streaked with tracks from skis and snowboards alike.

I’m so intent on dodging their gazes, my concentration barely allows me to hear Marco talking to the class about how they’re gonna proceed. “We’re going to continue on what we learned back at the last slope. It shouldn’t be too hard to do, since the bunny slope is made for beginners like all of you.”

I must’ve zoned out for the rest of that mini-lecture, because suddenly, everyone starts moving towards the beginning of the slope. I snap out of it as quickly as I can and follow them, propelling myself with my free foot towards the slope.

I go ahead and just copy whatever the others are doing. We’re just strapping up in preparation for the slope, which doesn’t actually involve moving a significant amount of distance. Plus, it’s sitting, which means I can’t trip on anything. There’s a first for everything, though, so I keep my senses sharp for any stray boulders or, god forbid, more cute Marco smiles. (At least the latter can be avoided by looking at the ground.)

I slip in my free foot to the restraints, and tighten it as best I can. I, unsurprisingly, already know from experience what laziness at this step will do - I almost twisted my ankle when my foot fell out of it, only saved because I tripped and fell the other way. It still hurt, nevertheless.

I slowly propel myself up into a standing position, and edge myself into the slope so that I don’t accidentally suddenly start shooting forward and tumble down the hill with no control whatsoever, another event I unfortunately have too much experience with.

We all slowly proceed towards the first dip, Marco leading the way and reassuring everyone that it’ll be okay. From my position, I can’t exactly see how steep it is, but there’s a sinking feeling in my gut that doesn’t seem very good. I have a bad feeling about this.

My gut feelings prove true, as I finally reach a location in which I can see the full extent of the slope. The hill is a lot steeper than the slope from before, and I’m absolutely petrified; I can already see myself falling over at the first few feet. However, unlike the other slope, this one looks like it won’t let me stop tumbling until we reach the bottom, which is at least twenty feet down.

I gulp, mentally preparing myself for the disasters to come, as I watch each and everyone one of my classmates go down the first dip easily, sliding down effortlessly. Some even attempt to go from side to side, like those arcade machines where a ball rolls down and you get your prize. Something I’m definitely not gonna try out.

Finally, it’s my turn to go down, as the person in front of me’s already gone down a couple feet. I take a deep breath, and ease myself onto the slope.

It’s actually a lot better than I had expected, and I go down the first five feet without any incidents. So far, so good, and I even have a tiny sliver of hope that I won’t fall at all at this first dip when two rambunctious elementary-age kids on skis zoom past me, coming so close that I can literally feel the wind from their speed.

And you know, seeing that it’s me, that was enough to knock me over. Fuck those kids.

I fall backwards, preparing myself for the impact. I’m so used to it now that it feels completely natural now. After landing, I immediately heave myself up again, and start again.

I manage to inch down the slope in record time, at least for me, and Marco’s smiling from ear to ear when I reach where the rest of the class is, last, but better in my standards.

“You’ve improved, Jean,” he says brightly, although at this point, any positive remarks sounds sarcastic. But I still give him a grin. Hell, he really needs to stop with his excessive enthusiasm, because it’s getting to me - I’m really starting to think I can actually learn this shit, which was definitely not a common opinion, as I look briefly at the displeased faces of my classmates.

Once we’ve all managed to successfully slide down the rest of the slope, falling backwards and taking breaks at the side of the hill aside, Marco grins at all of us. “Get lots of practice, and I think everyone will be just fine. Class dismissed!”

Everyone disperses rather quickly, either to go home, practice some more, or pig out in the cafeteria. I linger around for a few minutes, staring at my board and deciding whether to actually try it out some more or warm up back at the lodge.

Somehow, I end up going up on the lift again, having successfully made it on. Practice makes perfect, and I did still want to impress girls, so… Through some miracles, I slide off the chair at the top without any casualties, definitely a first for me, and a better one at that. Karma must be on my side now, I muse to myself, and in my confidence, I immediately slide towards the nearest slope, buckle in my free foot, and even start maneuvering the simple turn Marco had demonstrated earlier.

It’s okay at the beginning, just a slight decline of the hill, and even I, in all my clumsiness, managed to not fall there. However, as I reach the next part, a familiar slow but looming feeling comes around, and I slow down instinctively, the momentum sliding me all the way to the ledge. It was the same feeling I had the first time down the bunny hill, so I casually assume that it must be just the same nervousness. For some reason, though, it feels a bit more… nerve-wracking.

I can’t be too careful, though, so I look down. Big mistake; the slope, especially from my perspective, is steep to the point where I could almost swear that it wasn’t even a slope anymore - it’s literally just a drop.

I’m definitely not on the bunny hill anymore.

I glance up and spot the sign on a nearby tree - Dead Man’s Gulf. It had a double black diamond in front of it, which meant it was extremely difficult. And seeing as I had barely made it down the bunny hill, which was just a simple green…well, my chances weren’t exactly hot.

Well, there’s no turning back now, so I’ll just have to somehow make it down without falling. Also probably known as, you are fucked, Kirschtein.

I slowly start sliding down, perpendicular to the slope, moving at about a centimeter every few seconds. I have to admit, though, it’s pretty scary, knowing that one false move could have me tumbling down the rest of this long and treacherous-looking slope, and that wouldn’t be very good for my physical health, but I persevere. That doesn’t stop the sweat to start coming out of my hands, making the insides of my gloves hotter than it should be, unnerving me even more.

Out of paranoia, I end up landing on my butt about a meter down, and resort to sliding down the rest of the way - this slope was ridiculous in terms of it’s extreme angle, and I certainly wasn’t interested in breaking my neck, or any other part of my body.

Then I hear a familiar, soothing voice:

"Jean!? What are you doing here?"

It’s the class all over again - another spray of snow powder reach my goggles again, and the same cute instructor appearing in my peripheral vision upside down - but this time, he’s definitely a lot more worried.

"I…" I choke out what probably was meant to be a nervous chuckle but only turns out more of a despairing noise, rubbing the back of my neck. "I took a wrong turn is all."

Marco takes a seat next to me. “This slope is much too advanced for you - you do know that?”

I sigh and stare at the back of my gloves. “I figured.”

With a swift movement, he’s up again, offering me not just one, but two stable, confident hands. “I’ll help you down, then - that okay?”

"Um." I blink briefly at the outstretched hands before grasping onto them a bit more desperately than I would’ve liked. "Yeah, that’d be.. nice."

Marco smiles lightly. “I won’t let you fall, don’t worry.”

"Like I said earlier - I’ll trust you on that." With his support, I get up again, wobbling a bit dangerously but managing to stay upright.

I wish I could say that the rest of the slope was as easy as pie. Truth be told, it still was a challenging slope, but Marco guided me gently, helping me make easy turns, and really, just allowing even someone like me to easily maneuver through probably one of the hardest slopes in the resort. His hands are holding mine the entire time, and I can’t help but notice that his hands are bigger than mine, enwrapping them in a strong and confident grip. I don’t think I’ve ever felt more comfortable than this while snowboarding.

Thankfully, it isn’t long before we reach the conjunction where this slope and the bunny hill intersect into one final stretch to the bottom of the mountain. He releases my hands, and the chilly air soon makes them cold again. But nevermind now - I should be back at the lodge in no time; I’m definitely not going up and practicing again.

"You did good, Jean," Marco comments, patting my shoulder gently this time. "You did good."

"I guess…" I grin a bit. "Thanks to you, though. Sorry for the trouble."

"Oh, don’t worry about that!" He shrugs nonchalantly. "Just helping out."

"…Say, are you going down to the lodge after this?" I ask cautiously.

"Mm.." He furrows his brow for a moment. "I guess so - why?"

"Can I, uh, treat you to some hot chocolate or something as thanks?"

His expression is one of surprise. “Y-you don’t need—” He stutters out, but I interrupt him.

"I want to,” I say sincerely, wringing my hands.

"…alright, then." He scratches his cheek. "I could definitely use some warming up."

I grin. “So, race you to the bottom?”

"Jean, please,” he deadpans. “You’re a beginner.”

"I did manage to make it down a double black - I bet I can totally beat you."

He rolls his eyes and laughs, the melodious sound rolling off as echoes from the mountain. “Whatever you say.”

Unsurprisingly, he beats me to the bottom.

—-

"So, you live around here?" I inquire, delicate fingers wrapped around a warm cup of hot cocoa. The steam it gave off drifted into the lodge’s atmosphere, identical to the one Marco had clutching in his own hand.

"Actually, no. I live about 45 minutes away." He takes a tentative sip of his still-hot drink before setting it down carefully. "In Trost, if you know where that is."

"Oh. Oh, really?" My excitement bubbles, and it shows in my next words. "I’m there too - I go to the local high school there."

"I’m a first year at their college," he explains to me cheerfully. "Nice to know someone from there who comes here regularly."

"Well—" I stop mid sentence. "Nevermind." Might be best not to mention that I am a complete amateur with winter sports in general, and that this was my very first visit to one. Although what he says may not be a complete lie - I may start to come here more often. But, for the girls, of course. Not cute instructors, no no.

My gaze moves from the cup on the table to his excited expression. It’s hard to notice out there on the mountain, since everyone has their equipment and heavy clothing on, but he has an array of freckles scattered across his face, and they move as he shifts from grin to grin.

Cute, I muse. (Not cute, I muse right after, because I’m not exactly interested in having the romantic side of heart play a role in this new friendship. Although I may be too late.)

The conversation falls silent as both of us concentrate on the delicious drink in our cups. The silence is eventually broken, though, when Marco finally sets down his empty cup and speaks up again:

"Um, is it alright if we exchange numbers?" Marco looks to the side awkwardly. "You know - to get in touch. If we ever happen to go snowboarding here at the same time again."

"…Oh yeah, sure!" I would’ve thrown in a definitely too, but my mouth was smart enough to realize that sounding too eager was a very big put-off, in terms of both friendship and… well, nevermind.

My phone comes straight out of my pocket and slides across the table towards my new-fangled friend. He does the same, and I quickly input my number, taking a quick selfie for the contact picture - I do look quite stunning when spare beads of sweat still line my forehead. Once done, I hand it back to him.

"Well, it was nice meeting you, Jean Kirschtein." He smiles widely.