SHE: A Collection of One Shots [H.S.]

002. Snow Bunny

Solitude, Utah

January 7, 2023

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I don't want to be here.

That's all I've been thinking since my flight from Miami International Airport touched down in snowy Salt Lake City last night. I've never even seen snow before, and already, I can tell that I'm not built for this.

If it weren't for this stupid work trip, I would still be at home in my ocean-side apartment, laying out on my balcony with a margarita in my hand and the Florida sun beating down on my skin. Unfortunately, though, I'm here.

And this is the last place I want to be.

I pull the puffy sleeves of my rose gold snowsuit over my shoulders, and zip it up as far as it will go with a roll of my eyes.

Waiting for the Uber outside of the airport last night was miserable. It was barely ten degrees, and all I had on was my baby pink Lululemon Scuba.

To be fair, it was in the seventies in Miami when we left, and I didn't think it would be this cold. Thank god my boss told us all to pack snowsuits, otherwise I would have shown up to the ski resort in leggings and that same baby pink Scuba.

The CEO of Legacy Sound Studios, the record label I work for, insisted we go on a "company bonding retreat", which is something we've done every year for the last fifteen I've been employed for. Each year, I'm thrilled to take a small break from the overtime I'm constantly working, but when he told us that we were spending a weekend in Utah, I physically cringed.

What happened to the tropical island getaways we've grown accustomed to?

"It'll be a nice change of scenery," he insisted.

"For who?" I scoffed.

Never, in my entire life, have I thought, "Wow, I would really love to go to Utah!" And up until the day that David made the announcement, I assumed no one in the world had ever had that thought, either.

Clearly, I was wrong.

I stomp over to my shoe bag, and unzip it to pull out my silver moon boots. I decided that, if I had to be here, I would at least look good in the process. I sit on the white sheets atop the hotel mattress to pull the puffy boots over my feet, and tighten the long laces to secure them onto my legs.

I reach over to tap on the screen of my phone to check the time.

8:46

David insisted we leave at nine o'clock to make it to our group skiing lesson on time, and it took everything in me to not groan aloud. David and I have a friendly relationship after working closely for nearly ten years, when he took over as head of the company, but he's still my boss. I don't think he would appreciate me expressing the contempt I feel towards the whole idea of the trip he has been so excited about.

I stand up from the bed and make my way into the bathroom, flipping on the lights and unzipping my black Louis Vuitton makeup bag to pull out my white scrunchy. I slip it over my wrist before pulling my blonde hair up to secure it into a messy bun, and walk back into the bedroom to grab my white, Gucci saddle bag, throwing it over my shoulder and heading to the elevator to meet everyone in the lobby.

In the elevator I check my appearance in the reflection of the doors, tightening my bun and pulling out a few wisps of hair around my ears to frame my face. The elevator dings when it reaches the ground floor, and I take in a deep breath, putting on my best professional smile before the doors open.