Secret Crush of a Chalet Girl:. Lorraine Wilson
she’d felt in her weight loss. It seemed she was always destined to be the fat girl. No matter how much weight she lost after that, a little bit of her always felt like the fat girl inside.
Tash had been wrong, it’d been two years since she’d had sex, not a year. There’d been a sweet guy she’d been friendly with last season but all they’d ever done was cuddled. He’d never tried to take it further and she’d been too scared of rejection to push it. God forbid she be seen to “try harder” again. Now she was afraid of trying at all. If she fancied anyone she kept it quiet.
Opening her eyes again she scanned the crowd in front of her. There was no sign of Thomas and his loud friends. It was safe to go ahead.
But do I really want to?
“Hey, there you are.” Tash came up alongside her, already wearing a dark-green armband over the sleeve of her purple ski jacket. “Where did you get to? Why haven’t you got your armband yet?”
“I’m just doing it.” Sophie shuffled forward to join the end of the queue. This had to be better than spending Valentine’s Day on her own, didn’t it?
“Seen anyone you like the look of yet?” Tash joined her in the queue while Lucy went off to the lockers for her skis. For the first time that day Sophie noticed Tash’s eye make-up, the dark-grey Kohl and deep-pink eye-shadow accentuating her cat like eyes, the same shade as the pink streaks in her fair hair. She looked beautiful, although a little scary. Sophie admired the men who had the courage to take her on.
“Hmm, not sure.” Sophie looked half-heartedly around her. There were quite a few tourists in the crowd joining in the event and many were drinking openly or already drunk.
“Twats who fancy themselves as Johnny Depp,” Tash sneered dismissively at a group of young men dressed up as pirates, already drunk and spraying each other with expensive champagne. “What a waste of Moët.”
“Well they keep the rescue helicopters busy I ‘spose.” Sophie pursed her lips. Why did she always feel like a kill-joy lately? Jaded and cynical already, at twenty-five. She sighed, something was going to have to change.
Once she’d given her name and put her green armband on over her sleeve they headed back to find Lucy and clicked their skis on, heading for the start of the run.
“So how is this supposed to work exactly?” Lucy asked, glowering as one of the pirates cut her up and wolf-whistled.
“It’s like a singles’ bar on snow really – you see someone you like the look of, you go and say hello. And we all meet up at the mountain cantine at the next station for a drink. Then you ski to the next station and stop for a drink and so on. There’ll be food too I think,” Tash explained, casting a cool eye over the crowd around them. “You could accidentally ski into someone you fancy but really it’s not advised, they’re not going to be too keen on you if you’ve just broken their leg.”
Sophie decided just to enjoy the run without even looking at the people around her. Every year so far she’d looked, been hopeful of catching someone’s eye but being alone with her Kindle definitely seemed a better deal than landing up with the likes of Thomas. The only romance they knew was pretending to be charming until they’d actually got you into bed. Then they dropped the act.
Like kissing a prince only for him to turn into a frog. What’s wrong with this picture?
She put her sunglasses on and as they set off down the slope she enjoyed the familiar buzz of speed, fresh air and fantastic scenery. She’d always loved sledging as a kid but this was way better. You had so much more control, once you’d got a bit of experience. All around her she could see inexperienced skiers going far too fast and with little or no control. It took all her skill to avoid collisions with them.
Pulling up at the bottom of the slope and avoiding those whose skills clearly didn’t include stopping without falling over, Sophie deliberately avoided catching anyone’s eye. Which was why when someone skied directly in front of her and stopped suddenly, spraying snow up into the air she practically jumped out of her skies.
“Pardon Mademoiselle,” the handsome skier said, his face stretched into a grin. His fair hair flopped down into startling blue eyes. “Sophie?”
“Er, oui?” Sophie replied, frowning slightly. How did this guy know her name? Then she noticed he didn’t have a green armband on like the rest of them and felt more confused than ever. Was it one of the organisers?
“J’ai quelque chose pour vous.” From inside his jacket he retrieved a red, heart-shaped card and he handed it to her. Before she could protest or ask who he was he’d skied off, down towards the next run.
“What did he give you?” Lucy asked. Both she and Tash snapped off their skis and crowded round her, peering over her shoulder.
Sophie showed them the heart-shaped card with Mme. Sophie written on the front. Then she turned it over and stared with astonishment at the writing on the back. “I think it’s some kind of clue.”
Bonjour chère Sophie, I’d love to meet,
Follow these clues for a special treat.
Clue one sings love songs, is a chairlift,
And a number you can eat.
Sophie stared hard at the words on the heart-shaped card.
“Is this a wind up?” She narrowed her eyes at Tash. This would be just the kind of thing she’d waste her time on.
“Hey, this nothing to do with me.” Tash held up her gloved hands, palm side up. “Not guilty.”
“Hmm.” Sophie decided to reserve judgment. Tash was a good actress. Sophie had seen her lie with practiced ease on numerous occasions while they’d been working together.
And how could this possibly be real? Who would go to this kind of effort for me?
Her mind flickered over the ski-bum instructors they drank with. Definitely not their style. Most thought buying you a drink was all they had to do to get a girl into bed, or even into the loos on some occasions.
Hardly romantic.
Unbidden, a memory of Luc’s dark eyes staring intently at her flickered into her mind.
Ridiculous. Of course he doesn’t like me, he was just being kind.
She wouldn’t let herself get caught up in this only to discover it was just a big joke at her expense. Another Valentine’s Day loomed in her memory, an ugly spectre.
A warning.
She’d been only sixteen when she’d found a Valentine’s card wedged in the corner of her school locker. She’d treasured it all day, sneaking peaks at the card where it lay between two exercise books in her school bag. For once she’d been able to ignore the muffled sniggers and taunts from the class bullies, clutching her delicious secret close to her like a protective shield. She even dared to hope it might be from Paul. She’d had a crush on him for … well forever. But all the girls fancied him, as captain of the football team he could pretty much take his pick from the pretty girls, the thin girls.
But a girl could hope, couldn’t she?
When ringleader Clarissa had announced to the whole class at the end of the day that she’d sent it as a joke, well, the remembered humiliation could still make her crumple beneath its weight. Then had come the taunts – “Who’d send you a card then, Sophie?” “Maybe another fatty might take pity on you, you didn’t think Paul had sent it, did you? What a scream!”
Screaming had been exactly what Sophie felt like doing. How had that witch Clarissa known she had a crush on Paul? Had her surreptitious glances in