by Jackie Lau
Tasha rubbed her eyes and looked again.
No, her eyes hadn’t been deceiving her. There really was only one bed.
Once upon a time, this would have been a luxury for them. A night alone together in a motel room with a queen-size bed? Even without any heat, that would have been exciting.
They’d spent some nights together in university, but not a ton, and it required sharing a twin bed, which hadn’t exactly been comfortable since Greg wasn’t a small guy.
Yep, eighteen-year-old Tasha would have loved this situation.
But now, a queen bed wasn’t a luxury to her—she had one at home—and Greg wasn’t her boyfriend. Now, a queen bed didn’t seem big enough.
She looked over at Greg. The look of horror on his face nearly made her laugh.
She wasn’t looking forward to spending the night in a motel with him. He wouldn’t want to listen to Christmas music or even talk. He’d probably just grunt and scowl a lot.
But although she hadn’t spoken to Greg much in years, she trusted him, and he’d gotten them there safely, and eventually they’d make it to Mosquito Bay. Sure, he could be irritating at times, but he wasn’t a bad guy.
She’d have to make the best of it. That’s what she always did.
She marched into the room and took off her boots and winter jacket, which she hung in the small closet. She didn’t remove her toque or her big sweater—thank God she was dressed for this weather—and climbed into bed.
“Aren’t you coming?” she asked Greg, who was still standing by the door.
“I...I just...”
It was kind of cute to see him stammer.
“I don’t bite,” she said. “I promise.”
He didn’t look convinced, just stood there in brooding silence.
“There’s only one bed!” he blurted out at last.
Her lips twitched. “Yes, I’m aware, but it’s a big bed. Don’t worry, you won’t catch any Christmas spirit from me.”
“I like Christmas. I just don’t like Christmas music.”
“Jingle bells, jingle bells...” she began singing.
He visibly shuddered.
“Don’t worry,” she said. “I won’t do any more singing tonight.” But she hadn’t been able to resist teasing him one last time.
“Thank God,” he muttered.
“Instead, we’ll have a long, heart-to-heart conversation until two in the morning.”
He looked equally horrified by that prospect.
They would have enjoyed that sort of thing when they were younger, though. Sure, she would have done three-quarters of the talking, but he’d have been a willing participant.
“Just kidding,” she said. “I’m going to call my mom and tell her where we are.”
He nodded before coming to sit beside her on the bed. The mattress dipped under his weight, and she exhaled unsteadily. This was how close he’d be to her, all night.
He must have noticed her response, because he said, “I could sit at the table until bedtime, if you prefer.” He gestured to the crappy wooden table and two chairs by the window.
“No, stay here. It’s more comfortable.”
He grunted in acknowledgement.
She set her purse on the night-table and fished out her phone. Shit. She’d missed two calls from her parents while she was sleeping and sorting out the motel situation. She immediately gave them a call.
“Tasha!” her mother said. “Where are you?”
“I’m sorry. You were probably worried sick. We’re in a motel near Strathroy. We won’t make it home tonight.”
It ached to say those words. She’d resolved to make the best of this, but she really wished she was at home with her parents, cuddled up under a blanket while watching a movie and drinking hot chocolate.
She should try to make it home more often. She loved living in Toronto and wouldn’t have it any other way, but the downside was that she was far from her parents, and they were getting old. Tasha’s parents had had her later in life; they were a good ten years older than Greg’s parents.
She’d wanted to have children earlier than her mom had, but she was now thirty-four and single.
She took a few deep breaths. No, she wouldn’t let this get her down. A new year was starting soon—a new year of opportunities. She had a good career, the one she’d dreamed of since high school, and a condo. Her car had died, but she would get another one soon. She wasn’t rich, but she was comfortable. She had a decent life, and she had to believe the right man would come around soon. There was always hope.
And maybe she’d already met the right man. She’d gone on a few dates with Crispin, and they’d been pleasant enough. Perhaps it would just take time for her to feel that spark.
“Thank God,” her mother said. “It’s quite the storm out there.”
“Unfortunately, there’s no heat in our room.” Tasha wrapped one arm around herself and pulled her toque lower on her ears. “And we—”
“Wait a second. You said ‘our room.’”
“We have to share a room because it’s the last one, and it only has one bed. But it’s okay. Nothing we haven’t done before, right?”
Greg got up and headed outside, presumably to get something from his car.
On the other end of the phone, her mom was laughing. “It’s a sign!”
“No, Mom, it’s not a sign.”
Her mother was still laughing. She was such a romantic.
Though she hadn’t been thrilled when Tasha and Greg had started dating in grade eleven. She hadn’t wanted anything to get in the way of Tasha pursuing her dreams.
But Greg, who’d always seemed older than his years, had won her over. He was not the kind of guy who got a girl into trouble or discouraged her ambitions, as her mother’s first husband had done.
And now that Tasha had an established career and was over thirty, her mother kept talking about signs and romance all the time.
Which was fine.
But Greg was her ex-boyfriend, and Tasha always looked forward, never back.
“I always liked him,” Mom said.
“No, you didn’t. You thought he’d distract me.”
“Silly of me. I should have known my girl would never get distracted.”
Tasha couldn’t help but smile.
“It’s so cold outside, and when you’re huddled up under the covers together, who knows what will happen?”
“Mom!” Tasha wasn’t smiling now.
“Rosemary was clearly hoping that you and Greg would get back together when she suggested he drive you home for the holidays. I wasn’t thinking of that, just thought it would be convenient for you, but now—”
“Alright, Mom. Enough with the matchmaking. Nothing is going to happen between us.”
“You say that, but—”
“Mom!”
“Okay, okay, I’ll stop,” Mom said. “Guess what I made? Gingerbread cookies.”
Tasha’s tummy rumbled. She hadn’t eaten dinner yet. In fact, she hadn’t eaten in nearly nine hours. Hot chocolate and gingerbread sounded delicious.
They talked for a few more minutes, and as soon as Tasha set down her phone on the table next to the bed, a mug of hot chocolate appeared beside it.
She rubbed her eyes. She must be hallucinating. Or she’d gained special powers and had conjured up the hot chocolate just by thinking about it.
That would be a useful skill, but it seemed unlikely.
No, she must be hallucinating.
She reached for the mug, just in case.
It was real. Totally real. She had a sip, and though it was fairly ordinary hot chocolate, it was especially good because she was freezing right now. It warmed her from the inside.
“Figured you could use something hot,” Greg said.
She whipped her head around. He was sitting in bed next to her, his legs crossed at the ankles. His glasses were on his night-table, next to a steaming mug, though it looked like he was drinking tea, not hot chocolate. He�
�d always been a big tea drinker. She used to tease him about it.
“It’s delicious.” She looked around the room and saw an electric kettle on the table, which she could have sworn wasn’t there before. “Where did that come from?”
He chuckled, a soft sound that made her smile. “I had the kettle, mugs, tea, and hot chocolate in my car.”
“Why?”
He shrugged. “Part of my winter survival kit. Plus, it’s useful to have a kettle in my bedroom when I visit Mom and Dad, so I don’t have to talk to anyone if I want tea. Going down to the kitchen is an arduous affair.”
She couldn’t help but laugh, though she was still wrapping her mind around the fact that he traveled with all those things. “What else do you have in your car?”
He gestured toward the chairs. There were two sleeping bags, an extra blanket, a couple hats and gloves, and... Oh My God.
“A space heater!” She could kiss him.
She covered her mouth and looked away. She shouldn’t be thinking like that. This was Greg Wong, after all.
And this was such a Greg thing to do. To be prepared for the unlikely event of staying in a motel with no heat.
“You have any food in your car?” she asked.
He held out three bars: a granola bar, a protein bar, and a Coffee Crisp. “Appetizer, main course, and dessert.”
She’d never been so happy to see a granola bar in her life. And a Coffee Crisp!
“You travel with Coffee Crisps in your car?” she asked, gesturing to the yellow wrapper of the chocolate bar. These were her favorite, but not his.
He shook his head. “There’s a vending machine in the motel office.”
Oh. He’d gotten it just for her. Because he remembered.
This, too, was such a Greg thing. He’d always quietly looked after her in little ways.
“Do you have food for yourself?” she asked, suddenly worried he’d given it all to her.
“I ate a protein bar while you were sleeping in the car, but I have more, don’t worry.” He held up a granola bar and some trail mix. “You talked to your mother?”
“Yeah, I assured her that I’m perfectly fine and not freezing to death in a snowstorm. Did you talk to your family?”
“I texted my brother.” He cocked his head in the direction of his phone.
Greg texted. It seemed all wrong.
To her, Greg was the past. When they’d been together, neither of them had a smartphone. Texting wasn’t really a thing yet.
“Remember how much time we used to spend on MSN Messenger?” she asked.
He smiled faintly. “I do.”
Back when they were at different universities, it was the main way they’d stayed in contact. Daily conversations on MSN Messenger before they went to bed. Weekends together maybe once a month. Toronto and Waterloo weren’t all that far apart, but there was always so much schoolwork to do, so much going on, and it had been hard to see each other.
“I’m going to get changed,” she said.
She dug around in her suitcase, then went to the washroom to take off her bra and change into her flannel pajama pants. She looked in the mirror afterward and found herself wanting to touch up her make-up.
Stop it, Tasha. It’s just Greg.
Yes, they were sharing a bed in a snowstorm, but tomorrow they would go back to their regularly scheduled lives, without each other.
And that was fine. It was what she wanted.
She texted Monique again, telling her that they’d had to stop at a motel, but Tasha emphasized, once again, that there was no danger of her falling in love.
She didn’t mention the Coffee Crisp or the hot chocolate, though.
Chapter 5
When Tasha came out of the washroom, she was still wearing the same cream-colored sweater, but she had plaid pajama pants on now.
It was the opposite of revealing, but Greg’s jeans suddenly felt a little tight.
He should not be lusting after Tasha, but he couldn’t help being attracted to her, even all these years later.
They’d been in the same class throughout elementary school. There was only one class per grade in Mosquito Bay, and he was the only Asian kid and she was the only black kid in their year. He hadn’t talked to her—or anyone else—much, preferring to sit in the corner and work in silence. He’d been a very serious child.
High school was bigger than elementary school, since kids from a few of the nearby towns were bussed to Mosquito Bay. He’d spent much of grade ten math admiring her from the back corner, and in grade eleven, they’d been in physics together. When they’d had to do their first ticker tape lab, she’d turned to him and asked with a bright smile if he’d be her lab partner. He’d smiled and croaked out a “yes,” already half in love with her.
She had smooth brown skin and a lovely smile. Nice ass, maybe a little bigger now—and he wasn’t complaining.
Stop it, Greg.
He should not be looking at her ass.
They were just sharing a bed, nothing more.
She climbed under the covers, and he went to the washroom to change into his pajamas. When he returned, she was chewing on her protein bar—and his gaze immediately latched onto her lips.
He turned away and picked up his e-reader. Hopefully, she would get the point and realize he didn’t want to talk.
For half an hour, he read and she did something on her phone. Although he couldn’t forget that she was sitting next to him in bed, it was still comfortable, somehow.
“We never did this before,” he said, surprising himself by talking. It was rare for him to break the silence. Tasha was the talkative one, but she’d respected his need for quiet for the thirty minutes, which he appreciated.
“Did what, you mean?”
“Sit quietly in bed together. Whenever there was a bed...” He trailed off, his cheeks heating.
“Please, continue.” She smirked.
“We were all over each other,” he said hoarsely.
The silence now was distinctly uncomfortable. She seemed to be checking him out, or was that his imagination? Surely Tasha had better options than him, even if she was single at the moment.
But for a few seconds, he allowed himself to recall what it had been like to be a horny teenager rolling around in bed with her.
“We only ever had a twin bed,” he said. “A queen, even in a cheap motel without heat, would have been a luxury.”
“That’s exactly what I thought when we stepped inside the room.”
“Sharing a queen-size bed? Piece of cake.” He made a dismissive gesture with his hand.
This, of course was a lie. He was very much aware of how close she was. It would be so easy to reach out and touch her.
He wouldn’t.
“We could have rolled over to change positions without toppling onto the floor,” Tasha said. “Definitely a luxury.”
They were both quiet again. He was thinking about all the sex they’d had, and he wondered if she was thinking about that, too. He wouldn’t flatter himself and assume she was. She’d probably had much better sex in the intervening years.
After all, they’d been each other’s firsts. First everything. It had been a year before they’d had sex—over Christmas holidays when they were both seventeen—but there had been an awful lot of fooling around before that, whenever they had a chance to be alone.
They wouldn’t have wasted an opportunity like this one.
“Why did you ask me to be your lab partner?” he asked suddenly.
“You were smart, and I wanted a good mark without having to do all the work myself.”
“Mm.” He set aside his book, figuring he wouldn’t get much more reading done tonight, and he was okay with that.
“And I was right. We had the two highest marks in the class.”
She’d beaten him by a couple percent in grade eleven physics, but he’d gotten the higher mark in grade twelve.
“I can’t believe I worked up the nerve to ask you on a dat
e,” he said. “I’d wanted to do it for months before I finally managed to get the words out.”
“You stuttered. Do you remember that?”
“I most certainly did not stutter.”
“You did! It was cute.”
“I don’t think ‘cute’ was quite what I was going for, and I doubt anyone has described me as cute in decades.”
She laughed. “You sound so offended by the thought.”
He responded with an exaggerated sniff.
Which made her laugh again.
Greg knew he wasn’t a particularly funny guy. He was positive everyone thought he was less funny than his brothers. But he’d always been able to make Tasha laugh—rarely a belly-aching laugh, but a quiet chuckle. He was glad he could still do so.
She tore open the wrapper of the Coffee Crisp and took a big bite. He was pleased he’d been able to get one at the poorly-stocked vending machine in the motel. Personally, Greg didn’t much care for candy bars—they were overly sweet and terrible for you. He wasn’t a huge dessert person in general, although there were a few things he liked.
But in grade twelve, she’d told him her locker combo, and he never used it unless she specifically asked him to grab something for her, except for the handful of times he’d snuck in to put a Coffee Crisp and a note on the top shelf in her locker.
She’d always rewarded him with a big kiss afterward.
Geez, it had been a long time since he’d thought of these things. So strange to be in bed with her after all this time.
“Is Coffee Crisp still your favorite?” he asked.
“Yeah, but I don’t have them much anymore. Haven’t had one in months, actually.”
Just then, the wind howled outside, and Tasha shivered. Before he knew what he was doing, his arms were around her. It felt good to hold her again.
And then he realized what he was doing and immediately sat back.
“Sorry,” he mumbled.
“You scared of the wind?” she teased.
“No, I’m not scared of a little winter weather.”
“You built me that snow fort, remember? So we could have a place to be alone together.”
He’d certainly not forgotten about that.
They’d only gotten to spend a couple weekends together in their first term of university. Having two and a half weeks back in Mosquito Bay for the holidays seemed like heaven.