Emma can't see particularly well over the huddle of the other men and women on her team, but if the crowd's excitement means anything, it's that this guy has talent out the ass. She has to shove Ruby and Anna out of her way as she moves forward, fresh air and screams of elation hitting her in the face, just to see Killian Jones begin his jump.

She knows who he is — his face is plastered on a few of the posters in front of her hotel, and they kept replaying his pre-run interview on the hotel lobby television — but she's never seen him snowboard before. People have been out on the slopes all day, but there's a buzz around this time slot because of him, and rather than being smart and icing her aching muscles she's chosen to watch him perform.

She's refusing to watch the big screen's version of his performance on principle, despite how much harder it is to see from the athlete's seating, because she wants to see him move. She wants to know what all the fuss is about, besides that eloquent answer he gave ESPN's on-site reporter. People wouldn't be this excited about him if he couldn't perform as well as he spoke.

It's easy to understand, once she sees him in action. Emma makes a point of watching the way he bends low on his way down the sleek curve of the slope, how he shifts his weight forward just before hitting the air. He twists around, spitting snow in all directions off his board, and she's sure he's smiling when he finally lands on the ground, even though she can't see that well from here. He continues on down the slope, cutting wide curves into the snow to build his momentum, and slides to a stop without so much as wavering on his board.

He has the kind of finesse she only dreams about, and rather than feeling impressed or jealous, Emma's just annoyed. She's still thinking about it hours later when her shoulder slams into his on her hasty exit out of the elevator and he stops her from tripping on the hotel rug.

"Easy there, love."

Emma lets him steady her, but scowls the second their eyes meet. Reading Twitter and walking had never been her strong suit, but he didn't need to know that.

"Do you call every stranger you meet love, or am I special?"

"Only the ones that run me down on my way upstairs," he countered, not at all phased by her attitude. All she wanted was to run down to the dining hall and shove a couple of those bear claws from breakfast in her pockets, but fate clearly has other plans. "You're Emma Swan, aren't you?"


She folds her arms, pretending that the sound of her name rolling off his tongue isn't altogether pleasant. Her legs and back are aching from earlier, and lingering in place isn't helping. "Yeah. Why?"

"Why? You scored second in the women's division this afternoon is why. That was a good run...I'd have thought you'd be celebrating with your team right now, actually."

"You scored first," she points out, lifting a steely brow. "Why aren't you?"

"It's only the first night," he tells her with a shrug. She doesn't know what he means but she nods as if she knows what he's talking about. "Were you going to find something to eat?"

"Maybe."

"From there?" She is not a fan of the tone of judgment coming from him right now, and she gets halfway through telling him so before he interrupts her right back.

"I'm only trying to say there's more to this town than the food they're doling out in there, Swan. Consider your health."

Health is absolutely the last thing on her mind; all she wants is the taste of sugar and almond on her tongue. If Killian Jones is some kind of health nut — something she seriously doubts, given his sponsors — she's not in the mood to hear it.

He doesn't block her when she dodges past him. All Killian does is call after her as she's pushing through the door.

"Shake your shoulders out before you go down on the slope," he advises, the smile still evident in his voice. "You're stiff as a board."


The plastic packaging of the bear claws crinkles against her unmade bed, and it's a lovely, lovely sound. Emma shuts her door, dropping her backpack at the foot of her bed, and contemplates Killian's advice to her as she changes her socks. It's not like she needs them, given how warm they're keeping the room, but she wants the comfort of home. Since it's too late to video chat with her family, she settles for this.

Emma can hear Ruby talking with Anna and Elsa outside in the suite, but she leans against the wall and scrolls through Twitter instead. It's become something of a terrible habit for her ever since the plane lifted off the ground in Boston — she's scrolled through hours of people asking who she was, commenting on her personal appearance, trying to pit her against literally every other woman on her team, but like a bad wreck she can't look away. Now that she's had her first run on the slopes she's waiting for someone to spend a little time commenting on her skills. Everything sounds exactly like she expected it to — bird puns are everywhere — butshe stops herself the moment footsteps wander toward her bed.

"Emma, that is not healthy."

"What's with everyone and my diet today?" She frowns up at Ruby, who must be referring to her phone and not her food. "Oh. I know."

"I'm serious. It's only going to stress you out," her teammate comments, flopping down onto the space next to her. Ruby's her closest friend on the team because of two things: her lack of personal space and her taste in late-night snacks. Emma tears off one of the toes on the bear claw and hands it over, if only to keep Ruby from seeing the other tabs she has open on her phone, and together they scroll through the entire X Games hashtag until Emma starts to fall asleep on top of their empty wrappers.

"Emma, you didn't tell me you made a friend today," Ruby purrs, nudging her to get her eyes open again. She shows her the tweet — it's one of the nicest ones she's seen all day, actually, but seeing that it's Killian Jones who re-tweeted it still sends annoyance rushing through her. Ruby notices, sends her a look, but Emma just brushes it off and sets her phone on the nightstand beside her.

"You were right. Twitter's not helping me get ready for tomorrow."

Ruby's smile is nothing but knowing as she lopes off to brush her teeth. "So the fact that a seasoned athlete just put your name out there isn't encouraging at all?" She slides right up to the sink next to Emma with her own phone, scrolling to find the tweet. "And look at his profile picture! Emma."

"Ruby," she chants back, mouth full of toothpaste. "I just ran into him on my way down to get my food. I don't even know the guy."

"All the more reason to wonder, right? Has anybody else done that for you?"

Emma thinks of the short list of people who could have, and the shorter list of people who would. Her teammates not included, the answer is none.

My point exactly, Ruby says with a look, leaving her to spit out her toothpaste into the sink.