L. Marie Adeline- S.E.C.R.E.T

een able to do things that would have been utterly inconceivable a year ago. Not just
the sex with strangers, but volunteering for the Ball, taking up running, dressing a little
sexier, being more outgoing with people, standing up for myself, and now, coming here,
alone, with little idea of how my four days would unfold. I never would have done these
things before accepting the gift of S.E.C.R.E.T.
When this young man balancing skis on his shoulder had approached me in the square,
instead of recoiling from the advance, or questioning it, I tried to accept that this was
possible, that I might be worthy of this man’s attention. An hour later, quite literally on
top of the world, I began to feel transformed. Yet there was still part of me that doubted
the spontaneity. Part of me was still waiting for us to reach a crest and share a lingering
look, and for Theo to ask if I’d accept the Step.
“Beautiful,” Theo muttered, stopping next to me and taking in the view I was
admiring.
“I know. I don’t think I’ve seen anything this spectacular in my entire life.”
“I meant you,” he said, and I caught a glimpse of his casual grin, before he pushed off
and dropped over the lip of the Bowl.
I couldn’t help but follow him down, and for a few terrifying seconds I was airborne.
After a wobbly landing, I righted myself and fell into the groove he’d carved ahead of
me. He expertly weaved through the glades, glancing back every once in a while to
make sure I was keeping up. After a hard right turn at an unmarked path, we soon
joined a cluster of skiers beating dusk to the cozy village, now twinkling yellow and
pink in the fading sun.
At the base we skied up to each other, and he held up a hand for a high-five.
“Brave girl!” he said.
“What was so brave?” I asked as our gloved hands made contact. I felt ushed and
giddy from the fast trip down.
“The rst mile of that last run was a black diamond run and you just did it. Without
even thinking!”
I felt something like pride mingled with glee.
“A drink to celebrate?” I asked.
We made our way to Chateau Whistler, where I was staying, and crossed the Great
Hall, where everyone seemed to know Theo. He introduced me to the waiter, Marcel, an
old friend also from Québec, who brought us fondue and two hot rum toddies, followed
by steaming bowls of mussels and frites. I was so hungry I began devouring handfuls of
fries, then caught myself.
“Oh my God,” I said, mortied. “I’m eating like an animal. Look at me,” I said, unable
to resist popping another handful into my mouth.
“That’s what I’ve been doing all day,” he said, reaching across the table and pulling
me towards him for a kiss. His hands were strong and callused from gripping ski poles
all day. His hair was tousled and I knew mine was too, though probably not so
adorably. But it didn’t matter. This guy was into me, I could tell. I ashed back to
Pauline and her man in Café Rose, and their intense connection. Now I was having the
same sort of experience. I shyly glanced around the chalet to see if anyone was noticing