If possible, my stomach gets even tighter. I know that voice. I look up from a chest encased in a tight black T-shirt into blue eyes that somehow manage to look both wicked and concerned. “What are you doing here?” I demand, the words popping out of my mouth before I can think better of them.

Z isn’t offended, though. He just gives me that yes-I-can-get-you-to-drop-your-panties-with-just-a-look grin of his even as he makes sure that I’m steady. When it becomes obvious that I am—or at least as steady as I’m going to get—he pulls his hands away. But not before rubbing his fingers gently up and down my arms.

There are three thick layers of fabric between his hands and my skin, and yet I swear I can feel the heat of his touch. It’s crazy, but it’s true. My arms still burn where he was touching me. I try to shrug it off, to pretend I don’t feel it, but I never have been very good at lying. Even to myself.

Z points at his forehead, and the stark white bandage that covers the left corner of it. “Hazard of being a snowboarder.”

Something about his voice and demeanor—soothing, solid, sexy—settles me. The panic recedes, and my brain cells start firing again, not a moment too soon.

“What? Having to wear really ugly Band-Aids? Or having to catch girls who all but throw themselves at you?”

He laughs. “A little bit of both, actually.”

“Yeah, I bet.” I take a deep breath and a step back. Then regret both. The breath because he smells really good—like pine and cinnamon and, randomly, oranges—and the step back because now I’m far enough away for his eyes to skim over me. Which they do. Not in a rude way, like he’s trying to get a look at my body, but in a hey-what-brings-you-to-a-medical-clinic kind of way. And since that’s the last thing I want to talk about, I find myself tensing up all over again as I wait for the inevitable questions.

In the end, he doesn’t ask them, though. Instead, he points down the hall to a red-and-white Exit sign. “Is that what you’re looking for?”

The fact that he reads me so easily has me bristling. “How do you know I’m looking for anything?”

“Believe me, I know the look. You’re as desperate to get out of here as I am.”

I can’t stand that he can see through me that easily, especially when I pride myself on my ability to hide my emotions. “Maybe I was just looking for the bathroom,” I tell him, annoyed.

His indigo eyes narrow suspiciously. “Were you?”

“No.” I don’t know why I admit it. At least not until he smiles and the damn thing lights up his whole perfect face. For the first time, I actually get why the women line up to throw themselves at him. The knowledge only makes me more wary, and I take a second step back.

“So,” he says, brows raised. “Are you ready to blow this pop stand?”

I start to turn him down, to make something up to get away from him, but the fact of the matter is that I’m breaking out in a sweat despite the cold. If I don’t get out of this clinic soon, they’re going to have to carry me out—after medicating me into a drug-induced stupor. “More than ready,” I finally admit.

“Me too.” Z puts his hand on my lower back, starts to guide me toward the door. I shrug him off, shoot him a glare, but he just grins. “I had to try.”

“Yeah, well, don’t.”

We push the door open and walk into the waiting room. Before I can do more than take one step forward, we’re surrounded.

“What did the doctor say?” Cam demands, poking at Z’s forehead. He winces but other than that tolerates her concern.

“Tell me you don’t have a concussion, man. You’ll be out for weeks.” Ash looks miserable at the very idea.

“I’m good,” Z answers. “Just a little bump.”

“A little bump? You were knocked out for three or four minutes!”

“I’m fine, Cam.” He reaches out and pats her head. “I swear.”

“Excellent! X Games invites are going out soon, and with the Olympic trials next month, it would totally suck if you were grounded,” Luc tells him, then glances at me curiously. “What are you doing here, Ophelia?”

“I had a doctor’s appointment. Z was just showing me the way out.” I pull out my cell phone, glance at the time. I’ve got fifteen minutes before the next bus leaves for the resort, which means I need to move it if I want to get to the bus stop in time. “Thanks,” I tell him before heading toward the door. “I guess I’ll see you around.”

“Hey, wait!” Luc says, jogging after me.

I don’t stop until I hit the sliding glass doors at the front of the clinic. The second I step outside, the tension leaves me in a rush. I take a few gulps of air before turning to look at Luc, who is watching me curiously.

“What’s up?” I ask.

“Where are you rushing off to?”

“Back to the lodge. I’ve got things to do.”

“Are you working today?”

I pause for a moment, consider my answer. But since I haven’t gotten any better at lying in the last five minutes, I opt for the truth. “No.”

“Awesome. Then you can come with us. Since Z’s okay, we’re going to catch a late lunch and a movie.”

“I don’t think—”

“Don’t think,” he says. “Just come on. It’ll be fun.”

I know I should say no, but I haven’t been to a movie in months. Haven’t done anything fun in months, if I’m being honest. And Z’s friends seem nice enough, even if he is a total hound.

“What movie?” I ask as I study him through narrowed eyes.

He names a thriller I’ve been dying to see, and my resistance drops another notch. Still, I’m no pushover. “What’s in it for you?”

“What do you mean?” He’s wearing a butter-wouldn’t-melt-in-his-mouth expression.

I cross my arms over my chest, refuse to give an inch. “You know exactly what I mean.”

It’s his turn to study me. Finally he says, “I don’t care what he says. Z took a pretty hard hit today. If we don’t distract him, he’ll be right back on the half-pipe, and honestly, I don’t think he’s up for it.”

“What do I have to do with that?”

“He’s interested in you. If you come along, he won’t be in any hurry to rush off and try to kill himself again.”

His words are light, but there’s an underlying grimness to them that tells me there’s more going on here than meets the eye. “So I’m bait?”

“Pretty much, yeah.” He grins engagingly, and despite myself, I’m suckered in.

“Fine, I’ll go. Only because I want to see the movie. Not because I want to spend time with Z.”

“Of course not.”

“I’m serious. I’m not going to fuck him to keep him off the slopes, so if that’s what you’re thinking—”

“It’s not. I swear. In fact, I’m pretty much counting on you not fucking him. I—”

“Hey, are you two about done with your secret little exchange?” Z asks as he walks up to us, followed closely by Cam and Ash.

“No secrets,” Luc tells him. “I was just convincing Ophelia to eat and catch the movie with us.”

Z’s brows nearly touch his hairline as he turns to me. “Oh, yeah?”

I like that he’s surprised, though I have no idea why. “Yeah.”

He stares at me for long seconds, those cool blue eyes of his so intense that it takes every ounce of willpower I have to hold his gaze. But if I learned anything in the years I spent hanging on the streets, it’s that guys like this don’t respect girls who back down. So I don’t. Instead, I lift my chin and wait for him to speak first.

I expect a sexual innuendo, maybe an advance. Instead, when he finally does speak, all he says is, “Cool.” Then he brushes past me and heads for the parking lot without a backward glance.

I watch him go.

So much for fending off advances. Looks like he got the message yesterday after all. I breathe a sigh of relief—or at least that’s what I tell myself it is—as I follow him and the others to the car.

I’m in the bathroom at the movie theater washing my hands after eating entirely too much popcorn when Cam walks in, the restroom door bouncing against the wall as she pushes through it.