Snowbound

by CJ Martín

  His pecs are strong and wide, his nipples small and pebbled. His abs are unbelievably tight, and I count the ripples, trying my best to be discreet. I stop at eight. His waist is tapered and leads down to trim hips that are covered by his boxer briefs. His leg muscles bulge around the hem of the cotton material. He looks so strong, so sturdy, so… male.

  I finally bring my eyes to meet his. I know that I’m blushing, but hope to God in the dim light that Anders won’t notice. I’m about to ask him what he wants, but he speaks first. “Come to bed, Gigs.”

  “Anders,” I say hesitantly, “I’m fine down here.”

  “You’re being ridiculous.” He makes no effort to move.

  “I’m being ridiculous? I’m being ridiculous?” I repeat, shocked by his audacity.

  “Yes,” he says simply.

  “Well, you’re being an asshole.” My voice lacks emotion.

  “You’re right. I was an asshole tonight.” His words hold no hint of sarcasm.

  “What?” My voice is unsure, confused.

  “Just come to bed. Please,” he says again. This time it’s more of a command than a question. He reaches for my hand, and tugs me toward him. A little sizzle of energy buzzes where our hands are connected. I quickly pull my hand away.

  “Okay.” I acquiesce because I know Anders is nothing if not persistent.

  I grab my pillow and blanket off the couch and turn toward the stairs. I walk up to the loft in silence with him following close behind. Once there, we settle into bed in our usual places. I sigh as I sink into the familiar softness of the bed. The warmth of the fireplace, the blankets, the smell of pine and mint envelops me. This is heaven. Suddenly my idea of sleeping on the cold, leather couch seems like the worst idea ever.

  Anders wraps his left arm around my waist and pulls me toward him. He has snuggled me before, but never like this. I mean, he’s practically naked. With his right hand, he brushes my hair out of my face, exposing my neck and my ear.

  Dipping his head, he whispers in my ear, “I’m sorry.” His warm breath spreads across me, causing me to shiver. I think he’s going to turn to go to sleep, but instead he keeps his grip firm, brings his lips to the side of my neck, and places a wet, openmouthed kiss there. Shocked, my muscles tense in his embrace. My entire body breaks out into goose pimples and I feel his erection pressing hard into my butt.

  What. The. Fuck.

  I attempt to twist in his arms so that I can face him, but he holds me in place. My ass brushes against him in the process, and I hear him bite back a low groan in his throat.

  “Good night, Gigs,” he whispers.

  “Good night, Anders,” I reply, my voice high and breathy.

  His breathing slows and becomes even within minutes. He sleeps holding me close to him. Sleep will elude me tonight. My mind is too busy racing, trying to process what just happened. I keep telling myself he’s drunk. This means nothing. He won’t even remember tomorrow morning.

  But my heart is sad. I wish it meant something more.

  I’ve not seen Anders since last Saturday night. Since my date with Tom. Nor have I spoken to him. In fact, I think he’s avoiding me. When I woke up the next morning, he was gone. I can’t say I was surprised. I assumed he wanted to avoid what was bound to be an uncomfortable conversation between us.

  It had been a Saturday, and I had nothing to do because I’d planned on spending the day with him. Yeah, great plan El. A part of me knew he was purposely creating distance, giving us each time to calm down after what happened the night before. It wasn’t our first fight ever, but it was the first time we didn’t resolve the issue almost immediately. It was the first time he left the next morning and didn’t wake me. The first time in the weeks since we were living together that I had no idea where he was. Jesus. Maria and I never had these issues.

  When eight o’clock rolled around and Anders still wasn’t home, I started to get nervous. It wasn’t abnormal for him to be out late—I knew he loved boarding at night after the majority of tourists left for the day. What was odd however, was the fact that he didn’t text me. We had fallen into a routine of eating dinner together around six, and if either one of us was going to be late we’d always text. After waiting over an hour, I finally broke down and ate a bowl of Ramen. Last time I looked at the clock it was nine forty-seven and he still wasn’t home. I fell asleep on the couch and no matter how much I tried to convince myself otherwise, I knew I was waiting up for him.

  The next morning when I woke up, the apartment was eerily quiet. I did a quick perusal of the space and everything was exactly as I left it the night before—half drunk glass of orange juice on the table, dirty dishes still in the sink, TV still on. I knew instantly that Anders never came home last night. He always turned the TV off.

  Even though I already knew what I would find, I wandered up the stairs to the loft bedroom. Just as suspected, the bed was untouched. No sleeping Anders. No sign that he had even been there since the day before. I felt my heart sink a little further. Where the hell was he? And more importantly, who was he with?

  The week continued on like that. Anders never showed up at the apartment. It would be awesome if I could say that I wasn’t bothered by his absence but that would be a lie. I obsessed over where he was. I wondered if he was okay, because despite everything I cared. A lot.

  My mind pored over what happened between us. I painstakingly analyzed every detail—his reaction, my reaction, what was said. My emotions vacillated from anger to panic to confusion.

  By Monday morning I finally broke down and texted him. I kept it short and sweet.

  El: Hi. You still alive?

  I’m embarrassed to admit how much time and thought I put into those four simple words, but I couldn’t help it. In the weeks we’d been living together we’d become close. He was my best friend in Colorado and was quickly becoming my best friend, period. I missed him.

  Anger quickly replaced all of my other emotions when I received his reply more than three hours later.

  Anders: Yeah, been busy. Out of town for a few more days.

  I read and re-read the message a thousand times and always arrived at the same conclusion. What the fuck?

  I was furious at his dismissal of our friendship. We had an argument. I went on one date. Anders and I weren’t dating. Why should I feel guilty? Maybe he simply was that self-centered and childish.

  I try to keep busy and it’s fairly easy. President’s weekend is approaching and the resort is almost booked solid. I’ve been given the task of sorting the current reservations and updating the information on our website as well as affiliate travel sites. Not the most interesting job, but it certainly keeps my mind occupied.

  By Friday morning I feel numb, having resigned myself to the fact that our friendship may be over. I haven’t attempted to text him since Monday, and I figure if he wants to get in touch with me he will. As far as I can tell, he hasn’t been back to the apartment. His clothes are untouched, and his gear is spread haphazardly around in true Anders fashion. I have no idea if he’s still in Seven Pines or if he is back in Boulder. Christ, he could be back in Norway for all I know. It’s strange not knowing his whereabouts, but if he wants space then I’m more than happy to oblige. I won’t beg.

  I’m in the middle of replying to a customer inquiry when the stomping of boots startles me.

  “Hey,” a deep voice says.

  I look up, and smile at a red-faced JJ. “Hey,” I say quickly. “Give me a sec to finish this.”

  He nods and clomps over to an empty chair alongside my desk where I usually stack my completed paperwork. I finish typing the email, send it, and then minimize the browser.

  “What’s up?” I ask hesitantly. I feel a sort of kinship for JJ, like he and I are the only two people who get Anders. Although happy to see him, I’m also confused. I thought he was back in Boulder.

  JJ wastes no time on a greeting or pleasantries. “El, your boy has got to go.”

  My heart stutters and
my entire week’s worth of progress on Mission Don’t Think About Anders goes right out the window. I cannot describe the amount of self-control that I exercise in order to not ask JJ about Anders. It’s difficult but I resist the urge to pepper him with questions. Instead I say, “He’s not my boy.”

  At that JJ raises his eyebrows. “Okay.” He draws out the syllables in amusement. “He’s driving me fucking nuts.”

  I gasp a little and JJ must assume that it’s his use of the word fuck, but it isn’t that at all. I’m surprised to learn that Anders is staying with JJ. I imagined (read: tortured myself) that he was shacking up with a different girl every night.

  “Sorry.” JJ holds his hands up. “Boy’s a fuck—freakin’ slob. He’s got to go.”

  “And how can I be of help?” I ask, feigning indifference.

  “Whatever went down between the two of you, fix it.”

  “If by ‘what went down’ you mean my date, I don’t know what there is to fix. He’s being a selfish asshole. I haven’t heard from him all week. I’ve been worried about him, but I’m done wasting my time. How fucked up is it that I am staying in his apartment and he’s staying with you? And I’m just finding this out now?”

  JJ’s eyes widen. “Fucked. Up.”

  “Then we agree. He can come back whenever he wants. It’s his, well, I guess your, apartment. I’ll leave if that’s what he wants, but he should at least have the balls to talk to me about it first.” I fight to control my anger, but it’s seeping into my words. I clear my throat and lower my voice. “Sorry, I don’t mean to bitch at you.”

  JJ smiles. “No, I get it. Vik is…” He pauses. “Vik. Give him time.”

  Time? He needs time? Time for what? I’m the one out here on my own with few friends, living with a guy I barely know. I’m the one trying to do the best I can at this internship, trying to make my mom proud, trying sort through my mess of emotions, trying not to think about Anders… and he needs time? Fuck. That.

  “Hey, there’s a party tonight at the pool in the main lodge. Bunch of people going to be there. You should come.”

  I blink several times at him. Is he crazy? I can’t keep up with this conversation. “No thanks.” I turn back to my computer.

  “You can meet some new people. You know what they say, all work and no play…”

  “No thanks.” I repeat, this time not even bothering to look in JJ’s direction.

  “He’ll be there,” JJ says bluntly.

  “All the more reason not to go.”

  “El, listen. Vik is my best friend. Yeah, he’s being an ass, but deep down he’s a good guy. Just give him a chance. Come to the party. If you’re not having fun, you can leave.”

  Sighing, I face him again. “JJ, I won’t know anyone there.” I glance away again. “Besides, he doesn’t want to see me.”

  “Trust me, he does,” JJ says. “And Erika is going. And Tom. And Me.”

  I look at him again.

  “Just come for a little bit. I’ll stay by your side the entire time, if you want.” As he says this he squeezes my upper arm, and the gesture reminds me so much of Anders that I have to fight back sudden tears in my eyes.

  I give a little nod. “Okay,” I half-whisper.

  JJ breaks out into a huge grin. “Awesome. Want me to pick you up?”

  “No,” I say quickly. If he picks me up, I’ll have to go. If I meet him there I have… options. Besides, it’s only a fifteen-minute walk.

  “You’re not going to back out on me?” He quirks an eyebrow.

  The thought had crossed my mind. “No, of course not.”

  “Uh-huh,” he says. “Phone.”

  “What?” I question, but he is already reaching across the desk for my cell phone. He busies himself punching in numbers. Seconds later I hear a ding as he pulls his own phone from his pocket.

  “Got your number now.” He winks.

  Shit.

  “So, don’t even think about canceling. I’ll text you all night if I have to, until you show up.”

  “Sounds threatening.”

  “And if you ignore me”—he smiles wolfishly—“I know where you live.”

  I burst out laughing at his menacing tone. It’s my first real laugh since my fight with Anders and it feels good. But even JJ’s humor reminds me of Anders and it makes me miss him all the more.

  “Easy.” I joke. “I may need to take out a restraining order.”

  “You can try.” He smiles back at me.

  “Okay, okay. I’ll be there. What time?”

  “Ten o’clock.” He stands up and heads for the door. He pauses before exiting and turns back to look at me. “And El?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Wear a bikini.” He gives me a cocky smile.

  My expression changes from amused to serious in an instant. What the hell? Is he hitting on me?

  He registers my shocked expression and says, “Make him pay a little bit.” With one last wink he is out the door.

  What the hell did I get myself into?

  Gigs is here, as in at this party. What the fuck? All week I’ve been avoiding her. JJ’s one-week break coincided nicely with my breakdown so I’ve been crashing with him at his parents’ place. Lame, I know. Unfortunately I think my welcome is wearing a little thin. He constantly bitches at me about my stuff lying around. He’s worse than a fucking chick. Gigs doesn’t complain half as much as he does. Gigs. Fuck.

  I miss her. I think about texting her constantly. But I don’t because she’ll want to talk and demand answers regarding my outburst on Saturday. What answers can I give? That I think she’s sexy as fuck. That I can’t stop picturing her naked. That I fantasize about her on her knees taking my cock in her mouth while I fist her hair. That I want to bury myself deep inside her until she’s screaming my name. That I’m scared because I’ve never cared about another person as much as I do her. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

  I definitely can’t say those things.

  This is not the crowd of people she hangs with, and I’m shocked that she’s here. Although Tom is here, so maybe that’s why she showed up. Fuck, I hope that’s not the reason why. Even more shocking, she’s wearing a barely there bikini that does little to conceal her tits and ass. Damn. That’s just cruel.

  For the first hour or so I do a fairly decent job of avoiding her, but it’s only because she’s equally determined to avoid me. I’ve been covertly stalking her all night and it’s fucking exhausting. I caught her looking twice, and both times our eyes locked she was the first one to look away. The second time I even chanced a smile, but that too was dismissed.

  So I’ve been filling my time with beer and Tamara, JJ’s stepsister. He absolutely despises her, and to be honest I’m giving her more attention than I normally would just to piss him off. His dad is on marriage number three, and JJ insists that he doesn’t need to waste his time in getting to know her because the marriage will “be over in a New York minute.” His words, not mine.

  I, on the other hand, have no problem getting to know her. She’s an outgoing redhead who is as slutty as she is hot. She’s the exact opposite of Gigs, and this is the exact reason why I haven’t been discouraging her advances all night. I need to get over this sick obsession with Gigs and maybe Tamara can help.

  From across the pool I sneak another glance at Gigs. She’s sitting along the edge with her feet and legs dipped in the water. Erika is sitting beside her and they have their heads bent together, laughing.

  I smile too because Gigs looks happy. Then my smile disappears as I watch Tom swim up to her. He floats aimlessly between them, occasionally adding to their conversation. I exhale a loud breath. Look away, Anders. But I fucking can’t look away. I inadvertently clench my fists along my body.

  “You okay?” I hear JJ’s voice as he swims up behind me.

  “Yeah,” I say, but don’t take my eyes off of Gigs. Tom’s fucking touching her. He’s tugging on her foot, pretending to pull her into the water. She smiles and bats his hand away. In tha
t instant she looks up and catches me staring at her, but I don’t look away. And this time neither does she.

  She stares back and her expression softens. I think I may even get a smile, but then her eyes seem to dull and she looks down. My smile drops, and I wonder what caused her change in mood. I don’t have to speculate long as I feel Tamara’s arms snake around my waist.

  “Hey, Vik.” She purrs. “I’m bored.”

  I don’t respond so much as grunt. I still can’t bring myself to look away from Gigs even though her head is turned. She has resumed talking with Erika and Tom.

  “Any suggestions as to what we can do?” Tamara asks coyly, coming around to stand in front of me.

  I finally bring my eyes back to her. Damn. She’s hot in her string bikini. Not who I want, but I can’t have who I want so… “I don’t know. What do you have in mind?” I turn up the charm and give her a cocky grin. God, I need some type of distraction. Gigs is still fucking talking to him.

  “Chicken!” JJ shouts over the loud music and I spin back around to face him. I didn’t even know he was still there. I give him a curious look. He usually despises these types of drunken games, much less any games involving his stepsister.

  “Vik, you in?” He looks over to me, sneering at Tamara who is currently plastered against me.

  I smile wide at him before turning my head to gaze at Tamara. “You down?”

  She answers by grazing her nails down my back and pressing her tight body closer against me. “Mmmhmm,” she murmurs, lips still pressed against my neck.

  Yes. She’ll serve as a nice distraction.

  “Whenever you’re ready, man,” I say to JJ, eager to take my mind off Gigs. Tamara’s legs wrapped around my head? Yeah. That’s a plan I can get behind.

  JJ has a wicked gleam in his eye as he calls, “El! Get over here girl.”

  Oh. Fuck. No. I shoot daggers at him but he’s undeterred. He calls to her again and this time I hear a gentle splash of water. Out of my peripheral vision I watch Gigs paddle over to JJ. To us.