Minutes turn into hours, and by the time they took their first break, it was already noon. The slopes were bustling now, and their empty stomachs cried for cheesy hot Älplermagronen mixed with potatoes, onions, and cream.

The lodge they ate at was located halfway between the town of Laax and the peak of Crap Sogn Gion where the Laax Open took place every year.

Florian stuffed his mouth with more food than he could possibly chew. Beneath the table, his hand was subtly massaging the ache in his leg. The pain had been gnawing at his knee ever since that first run down the mountain, but Moritz didn't notice a thing. He was distracted by Amélie Leclerc's recent Instagram post.

She was a competitive skier from France who had made a name for herself in the world of professional skiing, and according to the photo, she had just arrived in Laax. Moritz debated whether he should leave a comment on her photo, and after many scrapped drafts, he decided against it. She was out of his league. He knew that. She was a year older too, but that part didn't bother him nearly as much.

A voice interrupted their meal, cutting through the chatter of the crowded lodge.

"Excuse me, are you Florian Hirsch?" a boy asked in an American accent. He was missing a tooth, but it made his grin all the more authentic. Florian turned to look at him. The childish grin widened. "Oh my God! I'm like—like your biggest fan ever! I've been following you ever since you landed your first quad cork! I started snowboarding just because of you! Because you make it look so cool!"

"Thanks little dude." Florian gave him his most humble smile. "What's your name?"

He could hardly get it out without stuttering. "Lucas! It's Lucas O'Brien! Would you mind—I mean, could I get a picture with you? Only if that's okay!"

"Sure thing," said Florian and leaned into the frame.

"Wow, thank you! You're such an inspiration, seriously! The fact that you're snowboarding despite the accident last year! You're insane, Florian!"

Through the corner of his mouth, Moritz muttered quietly, "That you are."

"You've made a huge difference in my life!" The boy talked right over Moritz' comment, not breaking eye contact with Florian. "I literally only came to Switzerland to watch you shred at Laax freestyle! You're gonna get gold, right?"

"You bet."

The kid looked at him as if he had already won. It made Florian happy, it fueled him. Not even the scolding glower that was demanding his attention from the other side of the table could spoil the mood. It didn't surprise Florian that his promise to compete bothered Moritz. What did surprise him was that the tension had grown enough to make the kid divert his eyes. He was now looking at the grumpy skier with the ugly green helmet.

"Who are you? Are you competing too?"

"No, he's not," Florian answered before Moritz had a chance. With a taunting chuckle, he told the kid, "My friend Moritz here is just ski patrol. He doesn't like taking risks. He's not like you and me."

To the boy, hearing those words felt like a badge of honor. To not only meet but be compared to his idol—man was he going to brag about it later that night! He'd soon tell all his friends and share the exciting news on Instagram and Twitter. At the same time as he would later upload their selfie, Florian would jump his very last quad cork.

After they finished lunch and returned to the ski racks outside, Moritz finally broached the topic that had been weighing on his mind. "You shouldn't advertise taking risks."

"If you never take risks, you'll never experience anything new," Florian argued, cracking open a RedBull to avoid falling into a food coma. "You gotta live a little, Moritz. Life's too short to play it safe all the time. So just text her already."

"Text who?"

"Amélie Leclerc! You've been checking her out for months now. When are you gonna hit her up?"

"You shouldn't be drinking that junk," was the only response Moritz could come up with. He didn't want to discuss his crush, and Florian knew it. He simply didn't care.

Ubothered, he sipped on his drink and continued, "Now is your chance, dude. You do know that she's staying at the same hotel as us, right?"

The gleam of excitement that flashed in Moritz' eyes gave it all away. Since Florian already knew her from past competitions, he briefly considered introducing the two. But deep down, he knew Moritz didn't stand a chance.

It wasn't his personality—he was perhaps the most selfless person you could encounter on the whole mountain. If you offered him five dollars, he would give you ten. It wasn't his looks or intelligence either. He was a charming, mature teenager who had just been accepted into med school. The issue was, at least to Florian, that dreadful green helmet Moritz always wore.

Even if Amélie Leclerc ever laid eyes on him, that helmet would hold her attention hostage, not allowing her to notice the handsome young man wearing it.

"Uh, Flo," Moritz said, his tone laced with concern. "I just received a weather warning. Looks like there's a snowstorm heading our way."

"Sweet! That means fresh powder tomorrow morning!"

Moritz had a different reaction. "We should probably head back to town."

"You're kidding right? It's a perfect Bluebird Day, we gotta take advantage of the weather! The snowstorm is probably not gonna hit until late at night anways."

"We shouldn't risk it."

"You and your goodman risks, man!" Florian was growing increasingly annoyed at Moritz's overprotective attitude. But he knew that that was just the way he was, so he offered him a compromise. "Tell you what. Once the snow hits, we can take the gondola back to Laax."

Moritz, ever steadfast in his commitment to safety, explained exactly why they should head back to Laax immediately. Though all Florian caught were snippets like "Valley run" and "Let's play it safe," he agreed to return to the hotel with him. When Moritz then told him to meet up at the bar in "an hour or so," Florian began to suspect that their return was solely for Moritz to meet Amélie Leclerc, who was most likely having a blast at the snowpark at that very moment.