Snowed In

by Hawthorne, Rachel

  I jammed the toe of my boot into the ski, locked it in place, and reached for the other.

  “I’ve never kissed another girl,” he said.

  “Yeah, right.” I shoved the other boot into place.

  “I swear, I never have. I’ve never done anything like that before. I’ve never wanted to.”

  “Then why me?” I spun around to face him, lost my balance, and landed on my butt.

  He was beside me before I could blink.

  “I don’t know,” he said quietly. “I honest to God don’t know.”

  He wrapped his hand around my arm, helped me to my feet, or my skis, rather. Whatever. He helped me stand.

  I was frazzled, upset. I didn’t want to be the other woman—the other girl—the person who tore them apart, who might be responsible for…

  Omigod! What if they broke up and it was my fault?

  “That’s never going to happen again,” I said determinedly.

  “Okay.”

  I heard the resignation in his voice.

  “Okay,” I said, hearing the disappointment in mine.

  I watched him drop the flashlight into his backpack before shrugging it onto his shoulders. He put on his skis, concentrating on a task that I figured he could probably do in his sleep.

  “I’m sorry,” I said quietly. “But I can’t be the other girl.”

  He glanced over at me and gave me a sad sort of smile. “I know.”

  “She’s crazy about you.”

  He squeezed his eyes shut like the words hurt. He heaved a deep sigh. “We need to get back.”

  He started to move past me and I grabbed his arm. “And Josh, I don’t do boyfriends.”

  “Okay, already. I get it.” I heard the irritation in his voice. “Let’s just go.”

  “No.” Shaking my head, I held his gaze. “I didn’t say that right. What I mean is that I don’t want a boyfriend. I like to date, but I only go out with a guy a couple of times. I don’t want anything permanent. I’m not like the girls here. They all have boyfriends. I don’t want one.”

  “But Chase—”

  “He likes to date around too. So we’ll have some fun. Then he’ll move on to the fudgies and I’ll”—I sighed—“move on to online dating.”

  “And hook up with a serial killer?”

  I wrinkled my nose, which was going numb with the cold. “Okay, the same thought occurred to me. But the point is, I shouldn’t have gotten upset about you having a girlfriend, because the most you and I would have is a date or two.”

  I’d convinced myself that’s the way it would be. I wasn’t upset that he had a girlfriend. I was upset that we wouldn’t have a single date.

  “How do you know?” he asked. “You might really like me—”

  “I don’t do boyfriends. Period. No, exclamation mark.”

  “What are you afraid of?”

  I scoffed. “Nothing. Just following my mom’s advice.”

  “No one follows their mom’s advice.”

  “Well, I do. And I just felt like I should let you know. Because I totally overreacted.”

  And I found some comfort in knowing that I wouldn’t be faced with making a decision regarding our relationship.

  “Okay,” he said. “Let’s go home.”

  I seemed to have finally learned how to move quickly and smoothly using the skis. I didn’t lose my balance once. Before I knew it, we came out of the woods and onto the trail that would lead to the street.

  We took off our skis and started walking.

  Josh glanced over his shoulder. “A taxi’s coming. Do you want to grab a ride? I’ll pay.”

  I glanced back over my shoulder. This one was a sleigh instead of a wagon like we’d taken from the airport.

  The reality was that I wanted nothing more than to take a sleigh ride with Josh. But only because I thought it would be romantic. And romance was the one thing I couldn’t have with him.

  “No. I’m good walking.”

  The horse clomped by, the runners sliding with ease over the snow-packed ground. Watching it disappear around the bend, I wondered if I’d ever take a romantic sleigh ride.

  As we got nearer to Nathalie’s, I said, “Thank Nathalie for letting me use her skis.”

  “You’re not coming up to the house?”

  “No, I think I’ll go on.” I don’t know why, but I was afraid she’d see evidence in my face that I’d kissed her boyfriend. Like maybe he was branded on my lips or something. Silly, I know, but guilt can give you really weird thoughts.

  “Well, thanks for going with me,” he said.

  “Yeah, sure.” I stopped myself from saying, “Anytime.”

  Because the truth was, I really couldn’t do this with him anytime. As a matter of fact, I could never do it again, because already I was wishing that we’d kissed a little longer, that I had a few more minutes of the memory.

  “Thanks for sharing the bats with me,” I said. “Even though they aren’t rodents.”

  “It was sure an experience I’ll never forget,” he said.

  I thought he might have been talking about more than the bats, but he didn’t elaborate, and I was glad. I wanted to believe that the attraction had taken him completely by surprise and that he wasn’t a jerk.

  That he wasn’t like my dad.

  I loved my dad, but it hurt that he was marrying someone else. I tried so hard not to think about it.

  Josh stopped at the fence in front of Nathalie’s house. I probably should have stopped too, but I kept going.

  “I’ll see you around,” he called after me.

  Not if I see you first.

  A totally childish thing to think. Fortunately, I didn’t give in to my instincts to say it. Instead, I gave him a wave and continued on, wishing I didn’t know what it was like to spend time with him, to share moments with him, and most of all to kiss him.

  12

  I know some girls load up on ice cream when they’re feeling blue. Others gorge on white chocolate chip macadamia nut cookies—preferably warm, with the chocolate still melted. Tara usually curls up with a romance novel that she sneaks out of the stash beneath her mom’s bed.

  But me? I indulge in horror movies.

  Fortunately, our little section of the island had a video store, cleverly named Videos, Etc. Although it was already dark, I walked over. Apparently the crime rate here was zero. Back home no way would I have walked several blocks, alone in the dark. But it was different here. I felt totally safe.

  The clerk behind the counter greeted me when I came in. He was tall and skinny. It seemed like every day was a bad hair day for him. His was sticking up at all angles, and obviously not due to any effort on his part.

  The place was ominously quiet except for a Disney video playing on a small TV behind the counter.

  The store was also noticeably absent of customers. I wasn’t in any hurry, so I browsed the aisles looking for something different.

  I could never get worked up about watching romantic movies. When Tara slept over, we always rented chick flicks—Bridget Jones’ Diary, Pride and Prejudice. Tara has a real thing for English accents. We once did a twenty-four-hour marathon of chick flicks. They’re fun when I’m watching them with someone who really enjoys watching them. But when it’s just me…I like to be scared silly. Of course, my preference for scary movies over chick flicks made me a popular date. At least back home. I hadn’t even seen a movie theater here.

  I finally made it to the horror aisle, and much to my surprise, they had quite a selection. I heard a door open. The guy behind the counter issued his standard “hi,” and a low voice answered back.

  I crouched and picked up the case for The Darkroom. I hadn’t seen it yet. My film selection of choice and my best friend were incompatible. When we did rent horror together, Tara had a habit of curling up in a chair with her eyes and ears covered for most of the movie. Where’s the fun in that?

  “You’re kidding me. You like horror?”

  I jerked m
y head around. Josh was standing there, studying me, acting like nothing had happened between us that afternoon. Like all was normal. I could pretend too.

  “Uh…” I looked at the case I was holding, then looked at him. “As a matter of fact I do.”

  I stood up.

  “Have you seen The Ring?” he asked.

  “Opening day.”

  He leaned toward me and whispered low, “The little girl in that movie scared the crap out of me. I slept with my bedroom light on for a week.”

  “You should see Ringu. It’s the Japanese version, and it’s a lot scarier.”

  “You’re into J-horror?” he asked.

  Could he look any more surprised?

  “Big-time.”

  Grinning, he looked me over, from the toes of my boots to the tassel on top of my knit cap. “You don’t look the type.”

  “And what does the type look like, exactly?”

  “Like someone who shaves.”

  “I shave.”

  “Not your face.”

  “What a sexist snob!”

  He held up his hands like he was fending off an attack. “I’m just saying…most girls I know watch horror movies with their eyes closed.”

  “What about Nathalie?”

  That reminder—or maybe it was my sharp tone—knocked the grin off his face.

  “Eyes totally closed,” he said.

  “I watch with mine wide open.”

  “I’m impressed. The next time a horror movie is showing around here, I might have to make you prove that.”

  Omigod! Had he just asked me out?

  As if “Omigod! Did I just ask her out?” had suddenly flashed through his mind, his eyes widened and he suddenly became very interested in the movie selection.

  “I haven’t even seen a theater,” I told him.

  He kept his eyes on the videos. “One of the hotels has movie night every now and then in their ballroom.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  No sixteen-screen multiplexes here. I shouldn’t have been surprised, but I was.

  He peered at me. “No. Plus there’s a theater on the mainland.”

  He went back to studying the selections. I was about to head to the counter when he said, “Have you seen this one?” He held up Jacob’s Ladder.

  “Nope.”

  “I highly recommend it.”

  “Okay then.” I took it from him and accepted his challenge, studying the various movies. “How ’bout…Dark Water?”

  “Never seen it.”

  I handed it to him. “Exchanging DVDs. Does this mean we’re going steady?”

  Did I really say that? I didn’t say that.

  He laughed awkwardly and took another step back. “No, we’re not…I mean, I’m already going steady with someone. And you don’t do steady.”

  “Yeah, I know. I was kidding,” I said quickly, then held up the DVD he’d given me like an old priest holding up a cross to ward off a vampire. “Thanks for the recommendation. Catch you later.”

  I walked to the counter where the “et cetera” part of the store was displayed. Candy bars, microwaveable packets of popcorn stuffed into tubs. Everything needed to provide a realistic movie-going experience.

  Since I was a new customer, I had to fill out all the paperwork to be approved to rent a movie. I was almost finished when Josh came to the counter. When I turned to tell him to go ahead, I noticed one of the DVDs he was holding. I raised an eyebrow. “Music and Lyrics? You do realize that movie has a scare factor of zero.”

  He blushed. “Yeah, I know. Nathalie—”

  “Enough said.”

  “She’s feeling a little better.”

  “Good.”

  Suddenly I was no longer in the mood to let him cut in front of me. Petty, I know. But there you are. Unfortunately, the clerk didn’t ask my opinion. He just went ahead and checked Josh out.

  “Say hi to Nathalie,” I said when he turned to leave.

  “Will do.”

  He walked out the door.

  After the paperwork was stamped “approved” and filed away, I paid for my rental. When I got outside, Josh was waiting with his back pressed against the wall.

  He shoved himself away from the building. “I’ll walk you home.”

  “I thought the streets were safe.”

  “From crime, sure, but what if you slip or twist your ankle? You’re not exactly used to walking on snow and ice.”

  “I did okay this afternoon,” I pointed out a little testily.

  “Do you really want me to count how many times I had to help you up or catch you before you fell?”

  “Are you saying I’m a klutz?”

  “Just saying…”

  Of course, in one of those moments of irony, I—who had yet to slip when walking around this portion of the island—put my foot on some ice and, yes indeedy, my foot slid out from beneath me and I almost landed on my butt.

  But Josh reached out, grabbed my arms, and pulled me close. Or as close as one bundled Eskimo—me—could get to a guy who obviously was never affected by cold. But even with all the comfy down stuffing between us, when my gloved hand pressed against his firm chest, I thought I could actually feel warmth seeping through his sweater into my skin.

  “Point made,” he said smugly, releasing me but making sure I remained steady.

  “Not quite. Ankles are not twisted, sprained, or strained.” Although I did feel a little twinge when I took a step, but no way was I going to admit that.

  And I didn’t think my limp was noticeable as we began walking down the street, another awkward silence stretching between us.

  “So, I’ve been thinking,” I began.

  “Good hobby.”

  “Ha-ha.”

  I gave him a hard look. He grinned. I sighed. “Anyway, with no motorized vehicles around, do you even have a driver’s license?”

  “Sure. What kind of question is that?”

  “How would you learn to drive?”

  “Go to drivers’ school on the mainland.”

  “It seems kinda pointless to get one. You can’t drive anywhere.”

  “You know, we’re not prisoners here. We can find lots of places to drive to on the mainland.”

  “Yeah, but you have no real experience. You’d be hazardous, a danger to other drivers.”

  “I’m a great driver. Not one ticket or accident.”

  “All guys think they’re great drivers. Besides, the odds are in your favor, considering how seldom you drive—”

  “Give me a break. I do a lot of driving.”

  I almost said something like, “Next time we’re on the mainland you’ll have to prove it.” The problem was, it would give the impression we’d be going to the mainland together—which we never would. Ever. Besides, it bordered on that whole are-we-hinting-at-a-date thing again.

  We came to an area where I could look through a large break between the buildings and see the bridge that joined the distant straits, connecting lower Michigan to the Upper Penninsula.

  “The bridge is so pretty at night,” I said.

  “Yeah. There’s nothing like it.”

  “Well, actually, we do have bridges in Texas.”

  “Yeah, I’ve heard about Texas. Everything is bigger there.”

  “Pretty much. I’ll have to show you sometime.”

  Okay, so I fell into the date-comment trap. But it was just there, waiting to be used.

  It’s amazing how a quiet person can get even quieter when something is said that makes him start thinking. I needed him to stop thinking, to stop analyzing what I’d said. “I read somewhere that the strait freezes over,” I blurted.

  Why don’t you just hold up a sign, Ash? Watch out! Changing topic up ahead!

  “In another month or so, yeah,” he said. “It’s kinda cool really. We mark a trail with Christmas trees. Use it to cross the strait.”

  “On foot?”

  “Sure. Or snowmobile. But I like walking.”

&nb
sp; I waited a heartbeat to see if he was going to say we’d walk together sometime. I was surprised when he didn’t. Maybe even a little disappointed. I would have liked to have had one real date with him. Although this afternoon’s experience could probably count.

  It was difficult to stay angry or disappointed when the night surrounding us was so peaceful. The streetlights sent out a warm glow. The snow crunched slightly beneath our feet. A horse-drawn sleigh passed by us. The couple sitting inside was snuggled beneath a blanket.

  “My friend Tara would love it here,” I said. “She’s a total romantic.”

  “She’d find the cold romantic?”

  “No, doofus. The horse-drawn sleighs.”

  “What’s romantic about them?”

  I rolled my eyes. Guys. Honestly. “If you have to be told, then there’s nothing romantic about them.”

  “They’re transportation.”

  I wondered if a time would come when all the special things would no longer seem special to me.

  We arrived at Chateau Ashleigh.

  “Well, here we are. Thanks for keeping me safe,” I said.

  We were standing on what would be the sidewalk if anything except snow was visible.

  “No problem,” he said.

  “Did you want to warm up before you head home?” An image of us snuggling in front of the fire popped into my head. I hastily added, “I could make some hot chocolate.”

  “Thanks, but Nathalie’s waiting.” He held up the videos.

  “Oh, right. I’m glad she’s feeling better.”

  “Yeah.”

  I expected him to leave. But he just stood there.

  “Look, about this afternoon—”

  “I don’t want to talk about it,” I said hastily.

  He nodded. “You kissed me back.”

  “I said I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “I know. I just…I’m feeling guilty.”

  “That’s good. I mean, I respect that you feel bad about what happened.”

  “Yeah, well…”

  “I do too. She’s been so nice to me.”

  “How do you do it? How do you date a bunch of different guys?”

  I was cold. I wanted to go inside. But I wanted to stay out here, too. I wanted to talk with Josh. Shoot. I wanted to kiss him again.

  Instead, I shrugged. “I just never went on a date with a guy who made me not want to go out with someone else. If that makes sense.”