Taylor's POV

The early morning sun has littered its welcoming rays onto the hill, basking the fresh powder in its warmth.  Although the bitter cold wind of the day whips its way up the mountains, carrying with it a couple of small blankets of snow with it.  Reaching into my jacket pocket, I fish out my cell phone, hitting the button to illuminate the screen and check the time.  It's nearing nine-thirty in the morning and I let out a little puff of air, watching as it evaporates and blows away in a cloud.

"Taylor, you warmed up enough now to start timing now?" my coach asks as he comes to a stop in front of me.

"Yeah, definitely.  Lets head up and I'll get ready to go," I answer, snapping my head back in the right direction and re-focusing my attention on the training session.

We've been out on the hill for nearly an hour now, just warming my muscles up and getting a feel for the snow today.  Although I am completely decked out in my racing gear, I have my shells and jacket on to soften my sore muscles up and acclimate them for the torture I'm going to put them through for the next couple hours. 

I've been skiing ever since I could practically walk, and racing came just as naturally right after.  It's my life; I live and breathe for what I do.  Not to mention, I work my ass off on the slopes, to be where I am today.  I'm up with the sun every morning, running, working out, and then heading out to the hill for hours upon hours of training.  Whether it's gate work, edge-cutting, or aero-dynamics...it's a part of me...a part of my livelihood.

The pressure that I feel to perform well at the World Cup only intensifies my drive to win gold at the Olympics in February.  I have spent the last four years of my life completely dedicated to the ski hill.  Training and pushing my body to the extreme, crashing and burning with the best of them, and getting up the next day only to do it all over again. 

Sighing loudly, I disembark the chair lift and glide towards the top of the practice run that is set up for me.  It's giant slalom today.

Being that many of the US Ski team actually trains throughout the winter months here, a run off to the side of the main resort has been roped off, allowing the coaches to set up courses and time gates for all of us.  Thankfully, a majority of my teammates have headed up to Vail for the next couple of weeks and I decided to stay behind.

I guess that's not a bad thing...

I get the hill to myself, no interruption or waiting for someone else.

I can focus on what I need to do to improve my time and my race.

And, if I had left with them, I wouldn't have met a certain boarder yesterday.

No, definitely not a bad thing.

I can't say that I ever thought by getting on that chairlift yesterday I would be sitting and talking to Justin Timberlake, although, I will admit to it being a pleasant surprise.  He's nothing like I imagined him to be...he's funny, charming, and sweet...he's normal...just like any other boarder.  I figured with as much hype surrounding that man in his life, he'd be arrogant, pompous and completely self-centered...oh, how wrong I was.

I will admit that I actually am looking forward to maybe hitting the slopes with him some day.  Whether or not we are able to work it out with my racing and training schedule and his...well...I don't really know how long he's going to be here.  I would enjoy just spending the day with someone who isn't so consumed with analyzing every twist, turn, and bump in the hill.

"Hey, earth to Taylor!" my coach yells, standing at the gate.

Shaking my head from its earlier perusal of yesterday's turn of events, I ski towards him before popping my boots out of the bindings and shedding my warm gear.  Immediately, my body reacts to the temperature change from shells and a jacket to a racing suit.  Shaking my limbs, allowing the blood to travel back through them, I snap my legs back into the skis and take my place at the start gate.

"The other day, you were starting the turns a little low, causing your entire race to be run from behind.  I need you to work on hitting the turns high, allowing yourself enough time to set-up for the next gate."

I nod my head at my coach's instruction before placing my poles in the holes off to the side of the time bar. 

"Remember, the hills a little choppy today, I want you to push it but remember, there's a wide turn off the top into the bottom section of the hill.  Be prepared in case you catch air."

I nod my head.  It's customary not to answer his advice; it helps bring me into the mindset easier.

A slight tap on my shoulder and he takes off down the hill, off to the side of the gates.  As he stops at the turn for the rest of the course, he lifts his harm, giving me the signal to go when ready.  One last final deep breath and a mental kick in the right direction, and I kick my skis up, pushing off with my poles and tripping the time clock. 

My skis easily glide through the first few gates, my turns early enough that I am able to clip each gate as I go by.  Picking up speed, I fly through the top half of the course, and just as predicted, I am airborne on the turn towards the bottom.  Connecting back with the snow seconds later, I shift my weight and dig my edge into the ground with just enough force to make the turn.  The rest of the practice run finishes just as smoothly as the top half and I clock in, nearly a full second and a half faster than two days ago.

Catching my breath and soothing the burn in my legs, I straighten up, waiting for the critique.

"That was awesome, Taylor," my coach says excitedly as he comes to a stop near the bottom of the hill.  "Seriously, one of your better runs I've seen."

I can feel the smile taking over; it feels good to get his approval but even more so the confidence boost that it elicits has me feeling ready for the prelims. 

"I'd like to go through it a couple more times, just to tighten up some of the top turns but I think you're ready, Tay."

"Thanks, it felt good, really good," I answer honestly.

"Great.  Let me just go call in that time and get it on the books.  If you want to head back up, I'll meet you there," he answers before handing me my jacket.

"Sounds good," I answer before turning my skis, throwing my jacket on, and heading towards a semi-populated lift towards the top.

As I get in line, I can feel the adrenaline still coursing through my limbs, leaving me practically warm to the touch.  The high that I get from a good race is unlike anything I have ever experienced before in my life. 

Pushing forward with my poles, I glide into the path of the chairlift and just as I am about to sit, another passenger tucks in along side of me.  The two of us sitting down quickly before being lifted up the mountain.

"Funny meeting you again under these circumstances," the same masculine voice from the other day penetrates through my helmet and I turn to face him.

"It's quite coincidental, I'd say," I joke.

"You're back at it early today," he says, flipping his board so that it is resting underneath my skis.

"I could say the same as you," I quip back, nodding towards his snowboard.

He laughs lightly and shakes his head.  "Yeah, but you're the one whose training...I'm just out here, enjoying the sun and powder."

"Might I ask why you're on the racing side of the mountain?"

"Just wanted to experience all the resort has to offer..." he answers lightly.

I try to fight the smile that is tugging at my lips, but I realize it's absolutely pointless.  "Whatever you say, Justin."

"So, how's it going so far?" he asks, motioning with his mitten-covered hand towards my racing gear.

"Really good.  I just clocked in one of my fastest times.  My coach, Rob, thinks I am ready for the prelims."

"Well, that's good to hear.  What about you?  Do you think you're ready?" he asks, a more serious tone to his voice and I smile at his question.

"I think so.  I feel ready.  My skis are fast, my turns are on point, and I've raced on this hill for years, it shouldn't be anything new to me," I answer honestly before turning my body as much as I can to face him.  "I don't get nervous to race anymore...probably how you are with performing now.  It's more anxious-excited.  But the pressure to live up to these expectations around me is the part weighing on my mind now."

Gently, his head nods in understanding...if anyone is going to understand it; it's going to be him.  "As long as you've done everything you possibly could to get ready for it, than you just go in there knowing that what happens, happens and you'll let everything fall where it needs to."

"Exactly..." I say before turning to face the hill again.  "So, you're already out on the hill for the day?"

"I don't have anything better to do.  I think you're forgetting that it's just me out here," he says.

I frown at that thought.  "You don't get lonely?"

He shakes his head quickly.  "Not really.  I am surrounded day-in and day-out by people, recording every step I take.  I'm enjoying this.  Besides, I've met you...I'm not totally alone."

I stifle a laugh.  "Right."

As the top of the hill comes into view, I can't help but enjoy the feeling of his company.  I never thought that someone like Justin Timberlake would walk-err, board into my life the way he has.  However, he's actually fun to talk to.  There's an ease of being around him that I haven't felt with anyone in a long time.  Probably because the people that surround my life have everything to do with my racing career and it's different with Justin...it's normal.

"So, how long is your training session for today?" he asks, breaking me from my thoughts.

"Not really sure.  Probably not much longer.  It's too close to a competition to chance any kind of crash, or to wear my body down so that I'm not at optimal racing condition," I answer before we reach the top of the hill and stand up to get off the chairlift.  "What about you, sticking around?"

"Possibly.  I've only been here for a couple minutes.  I have to get my fix," he jokes as we ski slowly towards the top of the run.  "Maybe I will see you around, Taylor?"  The way he asks, he poses it more as a question than an actual statement.

"You seem to know where to find me, Justin," I answer before taking off towards the racing hill and Justin stops to strap into his board before going down a different hill, away from me and out of sight.

My training session lasts for a lot longer than anticipated.  In fact, it's nearing five o'clock in the evening, the darkness settling over the hill, and I'm completely exhausted.  I've spent more time analyzing my races, altering between watching video back in the chalet and actually racing the hill than I have in a long time.  Due to the fact that Rob kept me out on the slopes for much of the day, working me to the bone, we've cancelled training for tomorrow in order to let me relax and get in the mindset for the prelims.  Prelims are in two days from now and it's time to get serious for the race.  After all, with all the pressure to perform and set myself up for a good position at the World Cup in December, I can't afford to lose out on this race, simply because I wasn't prepared enough.

"Penny for your thoughts?"  A voice breaks into my reverie; a hand jutting out into my peripheral view with a shiny, copper penny, head's up.

Reaching over, I snag it from his hand and tuck it into the pocket of my jacket.  "I told you, you always seem to find me."

Pulling out a chair, he sits down next to me, his shell covered legs protruding out and a small smile playing at his lips.  "Actually, you're sitting in the common area of the chalet that I just happen to be walking back through after grabbing my things.  I'd say it's a complete coincidence again."

I laugh at his explanation and sigh.  "Right, Justin.  Whatever you say."

"So, you're done for the day?" he asks, nodding at my bag and my gear that I am currently tucking away.

"Yeah, finally.  I didn't expect for training to last the entire day.  But with prelims in two days, I should've realized what Rob would want to do."

"So, back at it tomorrow then?" Justin asks.

"Nope.  I have tomorrow off to rest up and get ready for the race.  It's hard to go straight from training into the actual race."  Zipping up my bag, I reach for the strap, preparing to hoist it over my shoulder.

"Here, let me," he says, grabbing my bag and throwing it on his other shoulder.  He looks ridiculous balancing the two bags, not to mention, mine is loaded down with all of my racing equipment.

"I can take it, Justin, really."

Scoffing over his shoulder at me, he leads the way out of the chalet, his head ducked down to avoid unwanted attention.  I sigh at the fact that he can't even be here without worrying about the media.

As we walk out into the cold, winter air of the mountain, I snuggle deeper into my jacket.  Apparently with as much time as I spent out here, I'm a little chilled to the bone.  Walking up the wooden pathways, we reach the parking lot and Justin halts his movements.

"Where are you at?"

"Just right up here.  The black Tahoe."  I point and we quickly make our way towards the car, shoving everything inside.  ‘Thanks, Justin.  You really didn't have to do that."

"Yes, I did.  If my mom saw me let you walk out of there carrying your own things, she'd have my head on a platter."

I laugh heartily and smile at the thought.  Reaching up, I tug my hat lower around my blonde hair, hoping to keep the chill away a little longer.  "Well you'll have to tell her thanks for me."

"I can do that," he answers, shifting his falling bag back up onto his shoulder.  "Listen, I'm not sure if you want to, or if you're allowed to with your race and all coming up...but did you maybe want to get some dinner?"

I can feel the corners of my mouth rising at his suggestion; it'd actually be really nice to spend some time with someone other than my racing coaches.  "Umm...yeah, that'd be fun."

Justin lets out a crooked smile at my acceptance and he bows his head suddenly.

"But first, I have to go home, unload my car and change.  After being on the hill all day, I could use a shower.  How about meet you in an hour?" I ask, turning my keys over in my palms.

"Yeah, definitely," he answers right away and then suddenly pipes back in, "Wait, I don't know where anything is around here."

I laugh, remembering that he's technically a tourist.  "How about I pick you up and we'll figure it out?"

"Are you just trying to find out where I live, Taylor?" he quips back, an amused expression on his face.

"You asked me out, remember that, Justin," I amend and he lets out a hearty laugh and his eyes shimmer.  "So, where are you staying?"

Turning over his shoulder, he points in the direction of one of the most prestigious and luxurious cabin estates that are tucked into the mountainside.  I blanch at the amount that place is costing to rent out.  "I'm using one of the cabins up-"

I cut him off, knowing exactly the area he's in.  "I know where you are actually.  Wow, I bet that place is gorgeous."

He smiles.  "It's definitely a nice retreat from life in LA."

"I bet.  Well, Justin, let me run home and get ready and I'll swing back through in about an hour."

"Sounds good," he answers, turning to walk towards his vehicle but stops suddenly, turning back towards me.  "What's your number, Taylor?"

"Now who's looking for info," I joke before spurting the numbers out as he enters them into his phone. 

"I'll call you in a bit and give you directions.  See you soon," Justin says before giving me a smile and turning around.

"See ya, Justin."