I stood in the snow, phone in hand, staring at the cabin. Inside, Maya was puttering around in the kitchen. In a few minutes, I’d go in, and we’d start up a game. Everything would be normal and comfortable and safe.
Except it wouldn't be. Not really. Because Everest was right about one thing. Something was building between Maya and me. I’d felt it last night, in the quiet moments when we sat together. It was in the way she’d looked at me, and the way she said she was glad I found her.
The question was: what was I going to do about it?
I finished clearing the snow with perhaps more vigor than necessary, working out my anxiety through physical labor. By the time I headed back inside, I’d made exactly zero progress on answering Everest’s question.
Maya was curled up on the couch with two mugs of hot chocolate, my laptop balanced on her knees. She’d found one of my hoodies, my favorite forest green one. It was ancient, I’d had it since I was a teenager. She looked adorable in it even though it was pulled on over her sweater. It swallowed her whole.
“I hope you don’t mind,” she said, gesturing at the hoodie. “I got cold and it was folded on top of the dryer.”
“It’s fine.” Better than fine. The sight of her in my clothes did things to my brain I was absolutely not going to examine too closely.
“So I was thinking,” she continued, patting the couch beside her, “we could play that co-op game you recommended last month. The puzzle one?”
I gestured at the collection of discs. “You’re going to have to get more specific.”
“That one.” She pointed at a case and handed me a controller as I sat down, maintaining distance between us. “I figure if we can coordinate through headsets, doing it in person should be easy.”
“You’d think,” I said, pulling up the game. “But actually being in the same room adds new challenges. Like the temptation to look at each other’s screens.”
“I would never cheat.”
“Uh huh.”
“I’m serious! I have integrity.”
“You absolutely do not have integrity when it comes to beating me at games.”
She laughed, and just like that, the tension in my shoulders eased. This was us. This was what we did. The physical space between us didn’t change the fundamental nature of our friendship.
Except when she leaned closer to see the screen better, her shoulder brushed mine, and my breath caught.
Or when she got excited about solving a puzzle and grabbed my arm, her hand warm even through my shirt.
Or when our fingers tangled reaching for the same controller button and she didn’t immediately pull away.
Yeah. This was going to be a long couple of days.
But as we fell into our familiar rhythm with her calling out strategies, me making terrible jokes, both of us laughing when we spectacularly failed a jump, I realized I wouldn’t trade this for anything.
Storm or no storm, complications or no complications, Maya was here.
And maybe Everest was right.
Maybe I wouldn’t screw this up after all.
Chapter 5
Maya
Idiedforthefifth time in a row, my character plummeting into a pit of toxic sludge, and threw my hands up in mock despair. “I hate this level!”
“You’re overthinking it,” Geoff said, his voice rumbling with barely suppressed laughter. “Trust the momentum.”
“Trust the momentum, he says. As if physics and I are on speaking terms.”
“Don’t you remember? You explained optimal DPS rotations to me using calculus last month.”
