AN: I thought I'd try my hand at a one-shot so I wouldn't have to worry about writer's block. I love the SSX world.

Oh yeah, there are some rapid changes of POV in there, so watch out.

Disclaimer: This belongs to EA Sports Big, etc., except for the plot.


It was a hazy night. All you could see was the pale half-moon, and the old strip lighting radiating from an even older lift car.

Elise Riggs stood at the top of the mountain, on the lift loading dock. She leaned on a post with her board under her arms and behind her back. The gorgeous blonde was almost invisible from her immaculate white outfit against the piles of snow she tracked in.

The rusted lift car floated slowly up towards her through the mist, creaking in the chill night.

"Okay, I am definitely bringing a flashlight next time, because that is so damn creepy," she said to no one in particular.

Or maybe I'll just abandon midnight runs altogether.

Before I stepped into the death trap, which swayed threateningly, I checked its number.

Note to self: Get Rahzell to melt Car number V-7 into spoons, or something.

I dropped my board and sat on the dented bench. Why did I even bother breaking curfew? Well, there's no other time to shred the tracks VIP-style and solo. If I'm willing to cut into my beauty sleep for something, it's important. I yawned.

Yes, just me and the mountain, I thought, and started drifting off.

"Pardon, mademoiselle, but do you mind…"

I didn't hear the rest of what mysterious-deep-voice said because I screamed. Just a little. Maybe I was too used to the quiet mountain ambience.

I looked at the door, but the guy had already come in and sat down across from me. When I calmed down and really looked at him, he seemed familiar. Short blonde hair, light blue eyes, straight pearly whites…great.

"Arsenault…What the hell are you doing here?" I asked, screwing my manners.

He smiled a little. "Elise, it's been too long," he said, taking my hand and kissing it like the Frenchman he was. I pulled my hand back and hoped I wasn't scowling. He sat back down.

"I hope you don't mind my riding with you, it is a quite a way down."

I looked at the door again. It had shut already.

"Yeah, I kinda do, but that ship has sailed," I mumbled, looking outside. Clearly we were moving by now.

Then he laughed a haughty rich person laugh. "Elise, you're still as humorous as ever," he said dismissively. "And as beautiful as I remember."

That got my attention.

I gave him my best "Are you for real?" eyebrow raise, but he just smirked at me, and pulled out a newspaper.

So, we're playing that game, huh? I smiled and ignored it for now.

Puh-lease. I'll show him what he's messing with. He'll be wrapped around my finger before we hit the bottom.

"Hey, you never answered my question," I called casually. "Shouldn't you be out partying hearty?"

"Hm? Oh, the clubs in Merqury were less than acceptable, so I decided to get in some solitary boarding time instead," he answered indifferently, turning the page. I expected him to explain his life off this mountain, but he didn't; so I fished a little more.

"Yeah, I understand. Stupid tourists and paparazzi. But why are you back here?" I asked, trying to indicate the snowboarding world.

He frowned at something he saw in the paper. "Well, my incredible talent did not go unrecognized after I left SSX," he started without looking up.

And I'd almost forgotten why half the roster hated him.

"The French National team sponsored me soon after I returned home, so naturally, we have to hit the best mountains in the world. I guess no matter where I go, my second love will always be with me," he finished.

"And what's your first love?" I asked, raising my eyebrow once again.

This time he did look up. "Women."

Hm, a hardcore lady killer. This is going to be interesting.

"So," I said, shoving his response out of my mind. "Do you do other sports besides snowboarding, or are you naturally that strapping?" I asked coyly. The arch in his brow showed mild surprise. But I didn't care; I knew what I was doing. "I mean, you must have been plenty busy with other things after leaving the circuit," I finished quietly.

"But of course," he said conversationally. "As I have mentioned, I returned to France to visit my family, but that got dull quite fast. Then there is wakeboarding. My first sport. Excellent cross-training for the winter. I took some time to participate in an all-Europe tournament, and silvered there."

"Wow, silver," I said in a lowered tone. "Very impressive." I crossed my legs slowly. If only seduction were a sport; I'd probably have gone pro, and gotten platinum medals myself. And the world would be robbed of my snowboarding talent.

But apparently, he didn't notice. He just laughed a little. "Yes, thank you. And you, Miss Riggs," he said, turning the conversation around. "I have not asked what you are doing out at this time of night by yourself? You might run into something dangerous," he said with a sexy half grin. I felt the blood rush to my face, but I held it back. Must be the fog.

"Only when I'm lucky. But tonight, I was up here trying to get some alone time too," I said, lounging languidly back on the bench. "That is, of course, until you came along," I said suggestively. Wow, sometimes I even impress myself. Right about now, the men are usually eating out of the palm of my hand; crawling on their knees, calling my name, drooling…

…Or at least looking at me. What is wrong with him?

"Well then," he said, not giving me a second glance. "I'll try to come at a time better suited to both our needs," he finished quite gentlemanly. I thought I caught a hint of a smile before he went back to his paper.

This is not going as I had planned.

The car fell into silence for a while, but I was so exhausted that I actually didn't care that a man had resisted me. But that wouldn't happen in real life, so I'm probably dreaming. I lay down on the bench with one leg hanging off, and allowed my eyes to slip shut.

I was so tired, but the newspaper rustling bothered me. I inconspicuously glanced over there. He must have noticed me anyway because he looked up.

"What are you looking at?" I asked snappily.



I'm not a fan of this honesty thing. And God! Does he ever stop smiling?

"Yeah, well…don't," I said lamely. I give up. He just shrugged, put on headphones and looked out the window.

At least it was quiet now.

Then started I drifting in and out of consciousness. After who knows how many minutes passed, I just gave up on falling asleep. On the other side of the lift, JP leaned back and pulled his headphones off.

"So," he started nonchalantly. "How is Edward?"

That was a wakeup call. "Eddie is fine. Why?"

He looked at me thoughtfully for second, then shrugged and said, "One hears things…and I have heard that you two are more than just friends."

My eyes flew open. What?

"Well, you heard wrong, Frenchie." I smiled somewhat satisfied when he flinched.

And that was about all he did. He calmly replied, "Please, JP. Or Jean-Paul, if you prefer."

I stood up. "Okay, Jean-Paul, I don't know who you think you are, but here on my mountain, we don't pry into strangers' personal lives."

So it wasn't graceful. And it was a complete lie. Don't judge me; I think I'm handling myself pretty well for not getting what I want. At least I didn't say what I intended to: "I'd prefer you get your ass back to Europe, pretty boy."

"My apologies," he said with a perfect smile. "I didn't mean to offend you."

Shoot, I must be tired, because his accent never sounded more appealing.

I sat back down suspiciously. "It's alright."

"I only meant to clear up that rubbish, as I knew a fine lady like you would never settle for someone like Edward," he finished with a wink.

What? Is he trying to insult me and compliment me at the same time? I was officially sick of this predator/prey business. I silently apologized to Eddie for not defending him, but there was no time for guilt now. It was time for my A-game.

"Thank you, Jean, but you are absolutely right." I stood up and did a perfect model saunter across the car. If he was affected at all, he covered it up like a professional. That made two of us.

I sat down next to him, so that we were in contact. "I would never settle for a child like Eddie." I rested one hand lightly on his leg and the other one on his shoulder, and, finally responding, he shifted slightly towards me. I smiled on the inside. I am such a natural.

I stared into his eyes and half-smiled, noting the smirk on his face. Inside, I was laughing. He thinks he's won. I leaned in closer, turned my head towards his ear and slowly whispered, "I need a man."

He gently turned my face back towards him. "Really," he answered. More like purred; my spine tingled. Stupid air conditioning.

I composed myself and said, "Yeah. That's why I have my eye on a certain Nate Logan."

I pulled back, proud of myself. But I didn't have to, because JP jumped up. It was really funny, actually.

"Nate Logan?" he said, frowning. "And zis Nate is…British-" He spit on the ground like the word was a bad taste in his mouth. "-no?"

I laughed out loud. It was a combination of the hour of the night, that this Frenchman had reverted to a heavier accent in his frustration, and that JP Arsenault was hitting on me to begin with, for sport or not. The whole situation was crazy, like the unnaturally thick mist outside. It had to be a dream.

When I looked up, he was just staring at me. Before he wrote me off as insane in his mind, I settled down. "No, actually, he's from Colorado."

He snorted indignantly. "As if American is a big improvement."

I laughed again. He was…adorable aggravated, I hated to admit. We Canadian women know about French men.

"I do not see what is so funny," he muttered. He must have thought I was laughing at him, because he went to the other side and sat on my original seat.

After I calmed down, I felt a little guilty. He wasn't exactly polite anymore, not looking at me, not talking to me...Well, it wasn't like there was any rule saying that you had to talk to people on lift rides, but still, when you're the only ones in a room...

I glanced over at him and was surprised to see that he didn't look angry, but kind of confused. It looked like he was in deep thought. Then he looked at me and said, "I do not understand. What can this Nate possibly have that I don't?"

I coughed. Boy, he's modest. And why would he care, anyway? "Don't take it personally, but no man can handle me."

He looked remotely impressed, I thought. "I have never been turned down before," he replied simply.

What? Are you serious? Well, you're about to get a lesson in arrogance-control today, pal.

"Darling, you can't afford me." The diva in me sighed. You're telling him that as much as you're telling yourself; you'll probably be single for the rest of your life.

I shook my head. Damn conscience. This is exactly the attitude my mother tells me keeps the men away. I'd call it my most endearing quality. But JP didn't care. I looked over at him and saw him examining his nails. The nerve of him!

"I'm Jean-Paul Arsenault," he replied, slipping on his designer aviators. "I can afford anything."

That was it for me. No one ever talked to me like that. I stomped over there. He gets an F- in humility. I grabbed his collar with both hands and shoved him against the wall. He looked down at my hands, then back at me, raising an eyebrow. "This jacket is brand new."

-But I give him an A in suave. Screw his jacket. I pressed my lips against his, which was the same as admitting defeat. I didn't care.

I could feel him smirking against my mouth. He wasn't even doing anything, but my heart was still racing. It might have been his cologne…whatever the hell he was wearing was so intoxicating.

Right now, he was letting me do all the work, but I wasn't going to disappoint. I clasped my fingers around the jacket zipper and pulled it down. He was hot…in every sense of the word. I pressed closer against him, basking in the warmth. I slowly ran my hands up and down his chest; well, what do you know, he is strapping; I could tell over his shirt. I slipped my arms around his waist, still under his jacket.

I knew I was getting to him by the way his chest rose and fell hard against me; soon he had his arms wrapped around me. I stroked his lower back while tracing his lips with my tongue. He whispered, "Très bien," against my lips, and I almost laughed. What can I say? I'm a bombshell.

And vixens like myself are never ready to meet someone who can still impress them.

JP was now kissing back, and let's just say, the French do it right. I sighed involuntarily, and he deepened the kiss, pressed his body closer. My chest tightened, and my heart was now pounding so furiously, I was sure he could feel it. My arms moved around his neck for support. If he hadn't grabbed me by the waist, I probably would have collapsed, and that's not very graceful, is it?

This was insane…I was lightheaded, dizzy, short of breath…must be asthma. Obviously, he noticed as well, because he leaned me back across the bench, and laid gently on top of me. He stroked my face still kissing me, and I responded by running my fingers through his hair. Now I knew for sure I was dreaming, because in the real world, no man could make me feel like this without spiking my mojito.

But if this is just a dream…

It's the best damn dream I've ever had.

Elise pulled JP closer, and hoped she wouldn't wake up any time soon.

And the windows started to fog…

It was a hazy night. All you could see was the pale half-moon.

AN: That was a long ass ride, wasn't it? lol, whatever, as long as it suits my purposes.

I thought the title was appropriate in every way, because this story came to me late at night when my mind was in a haze. I'm not sure if there are any other stories with this pairing, but it was a ship I'd had in mind since playing the first SSX on PS2. If anyone finds/writes this ship, lemme know please!

I think they're perfect for each other, being playas and all.