It was Tristan, walking down to the parking lot, looking like a snow-god. He glanced at me, as if somehow he'd felt my gaze, and paralyzed me for a second. Then, face expressionless, like a slab of ice, he looked away and headed to his car.
He was gone a few seconds later.
I turned back to Dean, disturbed.
"-so don't use the other one." The guy was advising Dean about something. "I'm stopping the lift after you, so you better get going. The others have stopped already." He pulled up the safety bar of an awaiting chair.
"Sure," Dean said, beckoning me with his eyes. "Thanks, man." He tapped the guy on the back.
I followed and sat on the icy surface.
"Have fun," the guy said, pushing down the frosty bar against us.
The deserted slopes looked freakily steep from the chair, and every in
