Back to their cozy ghetto nestlet, strongly poured screwdrivers, curled up on couches. In the end he asks me to come sleep with him. I wish I could remember how it happened, but we kissed. Broke the line; friends no more. I try not to analyze it.

I trace l-o-v-e on his back, in a whim of voodoo magic, of wishful thinking, of lust. Subliminal message.

Day breaks and we're still gripping each other as if drowning in this sea of blankets. I search for my hoodie and he reaches across the bed for me, wraps his arms around my waist and burys his head into my tummy. Not letting me leave. It is so hard to not analyze that.

Saturday, on the road at 8am, me and Sarah and the Sea to Sky. Three days of Whistler playtime, the muddy trails and slick roots, apres drinks and chicken wings, ski cabin bbq party. How many accents can you pack into one kitchen party?

I mastered the simple see-saw. You ride it, you control it, you just don't let your bike take you over. As long as your wheel is straight when you land you'll ride away in style.

Music, movement, challenge. Fresh air, fresh faces. Positive confidence building situations. Where should we go next weekend?