i felt as if i were hauling my bike up a ski hill . how can you still want him ? i stood on tiptoe , peeking at their faces , but both were still asleep . my t-shirt and jockey shorts are wet and damp with sweat . we resume our walk , talking long strides , measuring our speed . yet when he reaches the cabin and puts a hand to his face , he feels tears there : frozen to his cheeks , hard as diamonds . he moves beside me , leans a hip against the island . 