“I’ll go grab the sledges,” Ryan says, and Cameron looks between me and Ryan’s retreating figure, his brow knitting together in that way I’m obsessed with. “Rico’s bar is in the next village. We get the late lift up then sledge home.” “You’re messing with me.” “I’m not,” I laugh. “There’s a road, but waiting for a taxi is boring, so we slide home. We’ve done it for years.”
