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little getting used to.”
    I struggled to stand up in my skis but couldn’t figure out how to without completely losing my balance.  Travis easily glided ove r to me and held out his gloved hands.  I reached out to grasp them, and he was suddenly pulling me to my feet in one swift movement.
    “Tha nks,” I said, clutching onto his arms as I steadied myself.  “I didn’t expect to just start sliding like that.”
    “I know; it’s something that takes a little practice,” he said , smiling down at me.   I looked up at him in his black ski jacket, black wool cap, and mirrored goggles perched atop his head , noticing again how handsome he was.  He hadn’t shaved that morning, so there was a dark shadow of stubble along his chin and jaw line .  Travis seemed so self-assured, but then again , he’d said that he’d been skiing all his life.  There was nothing for him to worry about today.  I’d even noticed the first day that I met him how athletic he looked.  Hopefully I wouldn’t embarrass myself too much by letting him teach me how to ski.
    I let go of him after I regained my balance , and we continued to practice before the beginner’ s lesson started.  Travis showed me how to stop, bringing my skis into a V-shape in the snow.  I watched him for a minute before trying it out myself.  I was nervous that my skis would cross and I would fall over .  It was so hard to control these gigantic sticks beneath my feet.  They felt so long and awkward to me, and I wished I could have the short skis that I had seen the little kids using .  They looked so much easier to maneuver, but I didn’t think they made those in my size.   S omehow I managed not to fall over this time as I glided forward and came to a stop beside Travis .
    “See, nothing to it!” Travis said.
    “Well, I was hardly moving,” I muttered.
    “ Maybe ,” he said, giving me that, “but knowing how to stop is the most important thing.”
    I unsteadily practiced for a while longer, and before I knew it the beginner’s ski class was starting .  There were seven other students, not including Travis, most of them looking as shaky as me.  The instructor , Sue, introduced herself and announced the goals for the class .  She looked to be in her late twenties and had tangled curly brown hair and ruddy cheeks—probably from being out in the elements each day . She wore a bright green cap and parka , and I wondered if it was so she could stand out among the students.  Then again, maybe she just liked that color.  Sue showed us some of the basics that Travis had already taught me, such as the proper position to stand in and how to stop.  She had us practice bringing our skis into a V -shape several times .  Watching Travis as he came to a clean stop, she commented, “You’ve obviously skied before.”
    “Yes,” he said grinning.  “I’m just here to keep her company.”  He gestured toward me , his hand still gripping his ski pole , as he spoke.
    “ You’ve got a nice boyfriend, ” Sue called over to me.
    “He’s not— ” I started to say, but she had already turned away to help someone else.   I looked at Travis and shrugged, and he just laughed.
    The rest of the lesson passed quickly.  We learned a few other basics, such as how to turn and how to stand back up if we fell on a hill , but I didn’t feel like an hour was nearly enough time to get a handle on everything .  I was shocked when Sue suggested that we all take a run down one of the beginner slopes.   I could hardly control my skis on flat ground and figured she would just send us off on our own to continue practicing .  How did she expect us to navigate down a n actual ski slope ?
    The class made our way over to the ski lift, and Sue rounded up a few other instructors along the way to assist us with riding the chair lift and navigating down our first run .  Travis and I were near the back of the line, and I watched as instructor and student paired of f and