Snowbound

by CJ Martín

  “Anders, she’s concerned. We all are. You know how these women are. They love you, you’re the best thing that has ever happened to them, and next thing you know… she’s pregnant.”

  Anger bubbles inside of me and I know it’s no use trying to stop it. Gigs is not like that. And the idea of my mom, or my sister implying she is, infuriates me.

  “Seriously? Do you think I am that fucking stupid?” I snap.

  “Watch your mouth.”

  “Sorry,” I mumble, blowing out a cool breath. “I’m not having this conversation with you.”

  “Someone has to. You’re not thinking… clearly.”

  “And you wonder why I screen your calls?” I mutter under my breath, but she’s still talking. I tune her out, grunting or agreeing noncommittally to whatever it is that she says. My life was so much easier when she was two thousand miles away. Don’t get me wrong, I love my mother, but overbearing doesn’t even begin to cover it.

  “So, we’ll see you for your birthday, then?”

  I sit up straight. What did she just say? What did I just agree to? “What, Mom? Sorry you cut out…” A white lie never hurt anyone.

  “If you’d been listening to me, not just pretending to, I said, your father and I are coming for a visit for your birthday. I made us reservations at Les Nuages for seven o’clock.”

  “How did you know I’ll be in Boulder?” I’m irritated and she knows it.

  “Coach Motu phoned your father.”

  Great.

  “Will your girlfriend be joining us?” Her voice is sweet and airy but I read the undertone.

  I want to argue that Gigs isn’t my girlfriend, but there’s a more pressing issue at hand. Like why in the fuck are my parents coming here? And how do I get rid of them as quickly as possible?

  “I have to check—”

  “Anders.” Her no-nonsense tone cuts me off. “I haven’t seen my son in almost three months. Is dinner so much to ask?”

  Yes. “No,” I say through gritted teeth. “Do you need a ride from the airport?”

  “That would be lovely.”

  “Okay, text me your flight info.”

  “You know I don’t text. I’ll call you with the information once I get home.”

  “Okay.”

  “And Anders?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Be sure to answer your phone next time I call.”

  “Bye Mom.” I singsong.

  “Bye, honey. Love you”

  “Love you too. Bye.”

  Another reason to add to the list of why my life is so fucked right now.

  My whole goddamned life is falling apart.

  Erika plops down in the chair next to me in the employee break room. Her face is flushed, and she’s still bundled in her bright blue ski jacket. She pulls off her hat and tosses it on the table next to my lunch bag.

  Not bothering with a hello, she gets straight to the point. “What’s going on with you and Vik?”

  I ignore her question while I pull back the lid to my yogurt, stir it, and take a bite. My nose crunches in distaste. What’s up with this yogurt? I grab the lid and scan the date. Expired. Great.

  “Well?” She prompts.

  “Nothing’s going on,” I say with as little affect as I can manage.

  “Bullshit.”

  “Well, this has been fun.” I stand up.

  “Sit your ass back down, girl. You still have ten minutes left.” She gestures at the clock. Shit. I instantly regret telling her that I take my lunch break at the same time every day. It seemed like a good idea at the time so we could meet up for lunch. But now? Not so much.

  I very deliberately roll my eyes and plop back down.

  “So, he’s back at the loft? With you?”

  “Yeah.” I sigh.

  “My offer still stands, by the way.”

  “Thanks.” I shake my head. “But we worked it out.”

  Her eyes widen in surprise. “So wanna tell me what went down at the party last Friday?”

  I’m not sure if I’m ready to confess out loud what happened in the locker room. Not even Maria knows. It’s been hard not to confide in her, although admittedly it is easier with her being so far away. I’ve still not found an appropriate way to bring it up during our weekly Skype sessions. I can’t exactly say, “The internship is great. Weather’s great. And oh yeah, by the way, Anders fingered me.”

  We’re both pretending that it never happened. He’s back at the loft. Our friendship is back to normal, or as normal as it can get. It’s not easy for me. I fantasize about him. A lot.

  Neither one of us speaks about our sleeping arrangement. At night we go to bed together, but unlike before, there’s no cuddling or touching. There may as well be the Berlin Wall between us for how little contact we have. But I’m happy that he hasn’t sent me back to the couch. It’s pathetic how desperate I am for him. I’ll take whatever he’s willing to give me.

  “Hello?” Erika shouts, waving her hands in front of me.

  “Oh. Sorry,” I say distractedly, still caught up in my thoughts of Anders. Again.

  “Okay, so I’m just going to blunt here.”

  “Have I ever known you to be any other way?”

  “You want Vik.”

  I gasp at her statement, about to deny it, but she holds up one hand. “Don’t even try to deny it. He wants you too.”

  My shoulders sag. “Yeah right.”

  “Trust me. You can cut the sexual tension between you two with a knife.”

  I don’t respond, and glance at the clock, gauging how much longer I’m stuck in this conversation with her.

  “Look, I’ve known Vik and JJ a looonnnng time and I’ve never seen Vik go at him like that.”

  “It was nothing,” I say, but my voice lacks conviction.

  Should I confide in Erika? After all, she just admitted she’s known both Anders and JJ a lot longer than me. But who else can I talk to? I feel like I’m going out of my mind.

  “Fine,” I say in a rush. “I like him.”

  “Bingo.”

  “It’s pointless because you and I both know Anders doesn’t date.”

  “And that’s what you want?”

  “Well, I don’t want to be his fuck buddy.” My angry tone is only partially due to sarcasm.

  “Has anything happened between you two yet?” She raises her eyebrows in suggestion.

  My face says it all. Nothing has happened. Everything has happened. I’m so screwed.

  “You slept together?”

  “No.” I hiss. “And keep your voice down.”

  “So what? You blow him?”

  My face flushes a deep shade of crimson. I’m not a prude, but holy hell! Erika and I aren’t close enough to be discussing my sex life. Or lack thereof. “No.” I squeak out as my eyes dart around to check for eavesdroppers. “He touched me.” My voice is a quiet whisper.

  Erika stares at me nonplussed. “And?”

  “And nothing. That was it. When I tried to reciprocate he stopped me.”

  “What?” she shouts.

  “Keep. Your. Voice. Down.” I bite out.

  “He stopped you?” Her mouth hangs open.

  “Yeah.” I sigh. “And now we’re both pretending that the little ‘incident’ never happened.” I look away and back at the clock. My break ended five minutes ago. I pack up my bag and gather my trash.

  Erika reaches for my arm. “My advice?” Something tells me she’s going to give it to me whether I want it or not. “Make him suffer.” She has a wicked gleam in her.

  “I don’t want to play him,” I say with conviction. It’s true. I don’t want to trick Anders into wanting me.

  “Oh, trust me. He’s got it bad. He’s just too damn stubborn to act on it. He needs a… spark.”

  I stare at her in bewilderment, my eyes searching hers. She cannot be serious.

  “Flaunt it. Show him what he’s missing.”

  I frown. “And how do you recommend I do that?”
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  “Easy. Wear skimpy clothes around the apartment. Find every excuse to ‘accidentally’ touch him. Go on another date with Tom.”

  “I don’t like Tom,” I say, my voice serious. “We both decided we’re better off friends.”

  “So? All that matter is what Anders believes. And if he thinks the two of you are dating…” Her voice trails off.

  “That’s ridiculous. It won’t work.”

  “What’s the harm in trying? Afraid I’ll be right?”

  “I don’t even know how to be sexy.” I can’t stand that my voice sounds so whiny. “I tried to touch the man and he freakin’ stopped me. So it’s not going to matter what I wear. I can parade around naked and he wouldn’t bat an eye.”

  “Let’s just see about that.” Her voice is so confident that I wonder if she might be onto something.

  Could her plan possibly work? Could I seduce him? Do I even know how to be sexy? My thoughts are a jumbled mess for the rest of the afternoon.

  Anders is sprawled on the sofa eating a bowl of cereal when I get home from work.

  “Hey,” he says, not looking up from the TV. He’s been doing a lot of that lately. Not looking at me.

  “Hey.” I drop my bag on the floor next to the sofa. “How was your day?”

  “Eh,” he replies, still engrossed in the program.

  Seeing that I’m not going to get much of a response, I say, “I’m going to take a shower.”

  “Okay.” I watch as he places the bowl on the coffee table in front of him and lies back down. I stare at his thick fingers resting on his stomach. They were inside me.

  His eyes meet mine and there’s a sizzle in the air between us. I glance from his fingers to his face again and the heat reflected in his eyes. I swear it's like he’s thinking the same exact thing. I dip my head so he can't see the flush spreading across my face and chest as I head toward the bathroom.

  While I shower, Erika’s advice keeps repeating in my mind on a loop. Make him suffer. Does her plan have any merit? Would Anders react if I turned up my sex appeal? I take a deep breath and decide that there’s only one way to find out.

  The restraint I’ve been exercising is incredible. Seriously, I deserve a fucking award. The only way I’ve been able to keep my hands to myself is to avoid looking at Gigs whenever possible. It’s torture enough sleeping next to her every night and not wrap my arms around her or press her tight body against mine. But I’m too fucking greedy for her to entertain the idea of either of us sleeping elsewhere. I keep telling myself that this is for the best, but my resistance grows thinner each day.

  The padding of footsteps down the hall draws my attention, but I quickly avert my eyes back to the TV. I have no clue what’s on, but I pretend to be deeply interested. Whale reproduction. Awesome.

  As Gigs comes into the living room I covertly assess her out of my peripheral vision. My eyes trail up her legs slowly until I reach her shorts, but I never get there because she isn’t fucking wearing shorts. She’s wearing only a towel, naked, less than three feet from me. My dick immediately stands at attention.

  “What are you doing?” My voice causes her to stop mid-stride. I turn my gaze to her full on and drink her in. Fuck, she is beautiful.

  My tone must surprise her but I don’t care. I’m so damn angry with her. For making me want her. Her and only her. Everything, all my feelings—sexual attraction, hunger, desire, care, comfort—bubble inside me, threatening to explode. I’m a ticking time bomb. Doesn’t she realize what she does to me? I want her when she is dressed head to toe in flannel. But when she’s wet and naked wrapped in a towel? It’s pure agony.

  “Going to get dressed.” Her wide eyes are innocent.

  “And why aren’t you dressed now?” I ask calmly, much more calmly than I feel.

  “Forgot my clothes.” She shrugs and the towel slips a little. God dammit. I adjust myself on the couch in hope that she doesn’t see the massive tent forming in my pants.

  She follows the movement and I see a quick flash of mischief in her eyes before she says, “I’m sure it’s nothing that you haven’t seen before, friend.”

  I cut my eyes to her and she smiles sweetly. What the fuck is going on? Is she trying to kill me?

  The answer is yes. She is most definitely is trying to kill me. I avoid her the rest of the night by going for a run in order to ease some of my sexual frustration. It doesn’t work.

  When I arrive back at the apartment I take a quick shower before heading upstairs. It’s no surprise to find Gigs sitting in bed reading on her Kindle. What is surprising however, is what I find when I pull back the covers. She’s wearing a thin tank top, so thin in fact that I can see the dark outline of her nipples underneath. No shorts or pants, just a plain, pale pink pair of panties that triggers a slew of wicked thoughts to fire in my brain. I choke back a groan.

  “You okay?” she asks.

  “Yeah.” I grunt.

  “You going to bed?”

  Another grunt.

  “Mind if I read a bit more?” She smiles. “I’ll get the light.”

  “Sure.” But all I’m thinking about is sliding those pink panties down her creamy legs. With my teeth.

  I lie flat on my back and close my eyes. Sleep is near impossible, but I try my best to remain still. I’m painfully hard and the only thing that will ease the ache is Gigs. What I wouldn’t do to have her lips wrapped around my cock.

  A while later the bed dips as she shifts to her side and drops the Kindle on the floor. She reaches over me to the night table to shut off the light, her tits hanging heavy. I ball my hands into fists in effort to keep my hands to myself. This isn’t for show; she thinks I’m sleeping, but I’m wide awake and completely aware of her hard nipples inches from my face.

  As she strains to reach for the light, a strand of hair falls from her bun and grazes her shoulder. I can’t resist. I tug on it, and she snaps her head in my direction. We stare at each other for a long minute. The desire is there. I can see it in her eyes, and I know if I make one move, one tiny move, she will give me what I want. What I need. But I tighten the hold on my self-control. I can’t let that happen. She deserves better that that. She deserves better than me.

  After an eternity, she finally settles back on her side of the bed. I miss her warmth immediately. She’s left the predetermined amount of space between us, and I fight with everything I have not to cross the line, both mentally and physically. I toss and turn for what seems like hours before I drift into a fitful sleep.

  Pulling back so that I can slow myself down, I trail my lips down her chest. My lips meet the swell of her breasts and I dip my head to lick the plump flesh spilling over the cups. My tongue slips under the fabric and she whimpers. Her body is shaking uncontrollably and her flesh is completely covered in goose pimples.

  I slowly peel back the cups of her bra, revealing her naked breasts. I lift my head so that I can meet her eyes.

  “You are so beautiful,” I say, my voice reverent. I sweep my hands up her arms and then extend them over her head before I secure both wrists with my right hand. With her arms above her head and back arched, her breasts are on full display. Fuck me.

  Holding her hands in place, I dip my head down again and lick a slow circle around her nipple. Her body writhes beneath me, but I maintain a firm grip on her, holding her in place. I lick around her nipple again and she bows her back further, offering more of herself to me. At last, I bring my lips around her and suck her breast into my mouth. She cries out and her back lifts completely off the bed.

  “Anders.” She whimpers again. I continue to suckle her breast, feasting on her like a man starved. She squeezes her legs together, wriggling under me. And when I finally pull back, her cheeks are flushed and her eyes are round and dazed.

  I don’t say anything as I dip my head again. This time I give the same attention to her other breast. She struggles against my grip, wanting her hands free, but I don’t release her. I know one touch from her and I’ll be
a goner. And I want this to last. I need this to last…

  “Anders…” The sound is distant at first but then I hear it again. “Anders.”

  Startled, I open my eyes and blink several times before anything comes into focus. When my brain finally catches up with my body, a wave of embarrassment sweeps overs me. I’m splayed across the bed, practically on top of Gigs. And my hand is grabbing her tits. Shit. And there’s no way in hell she missed my hard-on.

  I pull away and roll onto my back, taking as many blankets with me as possible in an effort to cover myself up. I remain quiet for a moment, wondering how to play this without looking like a total hornball.

  Before I can think of an out, Gigs speaks. “Sleep well?”

  Is she laughing?

  “Yeah,” I say uneasily. “Sorry about that.” Jesus, I can’t believe I was groping her in my sleep. What the fuck is wrong with me? I need to get laid.

  “It’s okay.” Her voice is quiet, but she’s still smiling. “Good dream?”

  Kill. Me. Now. If she only knew who I was dreaming about, what I was doing to her in said dream, she wouldn’t be smiling. I just hope I didn’t say anything in my sleep. Judging by her reaction I don’t think so, but I can’t be sure.

  “Gigs, sorry. I was asleep, I didn’t mean to…” My eyes drift to her chest. Her taut nipples poke through the fabric. All the blood from my head flows straight back to my dick.

  “To what, Anders?” Her eyes light with amusement.

  Is she actually flirting with me? This isn’t the reaction I expected.

  “I just…” I fumble over the words. God, she’s really throwing me off my game.

  “It’s okay. I know you didn’t mean anything by it.” She shrugs. The playfulness from moments before is gone.

  I don’t how to respond to that comment. I absolutely did mean something by it. I want Gigs. I want her naked and spread out beneath me. I want inside her. Bad. Instead, I say, “Breakfast?”

  “Can’t. I have a staff meeting with Mr. Jensen at eight o’clock.”

  “Okay.” I clear my throat, while heat still courses through me. “See you tonight.”