“That’s really thoughtful.” She smiled. “Thank you.”
After she disappeared into the guest room, I stood in the kitchen and tried to get my racing thoughts under control. We were going to game together. In person. Something we’d done hundreds of times virtually, except now I’d get to see her reactions, hear her laugh without electronic interference, maybe brush shoulders when we both reached for the same snack.
It was going to be torture.
It was going to be amazing.
I cleaned up the kitchen, then headed outside to deal with the snow. The cold was bracing and perfect, helping clear my head. I cleared the generator first, then the vents, then started on a path to the woodpile. Physical labor was good. It gave me something to focus on besides the woman in my cabin wearing yesterday’s clothes and making herself at home.
I was halfway through clearing the porch when the door opened and Maya stepped out. She’d changed into her jeans and a sweater, her hair pulled back in a ponytail. She looked warm and comfortable and completely out of place in the winter wonderland.
“Whoa,” she said, hugging herself against the cold. “That's fresh."
“Don’t catch a chill. You’re not in a jacket.” I leaned on the shovel. “What are you doing out here?”
“I wanted to see what you were up to. Also, I found your phone. You might want to check it. It’s been buzzing nonstop for the last ten minutes.”
I frowned, taking the phone she held out. Seven missed calls from Tank, three from my mom, and about twenty text messages from various people.
“You’re popular this morning,” Maya observed.
I scrolled through the messages. Most were from Tank, but the last three messages made me shake my head.
DUDE. CALL ME.
IS MAYA STILL THERE
I SWEAR TO GOD IF YOU DON’T UPDATE ME
“Friend checking in,” I said, sending a quick text back. “Everyone’s worried about the storm.”
My mom’s message was more to the point:
Heard about the blizzard. You better be safe and warm. Call when you can. Love you.
I’d have to call her back later. Away from Maya’s hearing, preferably, because I couldn’t hide anything from her. Mom would know something was different and would interrogate me about it.
“Everything okay?” Maya asked.
“Yeah, you know. People.” I pocketed the phone. “Give me twenty minutes to finish out here and I'll be back in.”
“Need help?”
“Maya, you’re recovering from a car crash.”
“I can hold a shovel.”
“You’re also wearing inappropriate boots in knee-high snow.”
She looked down at her feet, which were already getting soaked. “Point taken. I’ll make hot chocolate?”
“Deal.”
“I can’t promise it’ll be as good as yours, but I’ll try.”
She headed back inside, and I watched her go, taking care on the slippery porch, her breath misting in the cold air. She looked so small against the massive landscape, so fragile. So human.
And she was inside my cabin, making hot chocolate, planning to spend the day gaming with me like this was our normal routine.
