Girls Love Ski Instructors

She had duct tape on her ankle in anticipation of a blister that would last weeks after this fifty-hour vacation was over.

It was a girls' weekend. The first one since Keith moved to a new time zone, the official end of their on-and-off relationship that had ended for the first time two Junes ago.

And now she had her own ski instructor while her friends all did the bunny slopes-- hoping that someone cute would help them up and they could cut the day short. Her own instructor that would definitely get her back to intermediate slopes that she could handle when she was twelve. An instructor she would definitely sleep with if he was attractive at all.

"Just wait there," the girl from the lodge had told her, pointing area around the water fountain where she was now.

And when the instructor tapped her on the shoulder--shaking her out of a daze, which had completely occupied with the constant pressing her heel into the uncomfortable squishiness immediately below--she kind of melted. Felt her cheeks flush and blush and almost burn so obviously that she wanted to do anything she could to hide it, even whistle. Like that made sense.

"Hi, I'm Ken. You ready?"

She nodded and squished her heel one last time before the day began.