“I wish you could come with me,” she said, putting her hands over mine. “I don’t want to have to face them alone.”
“If your parents didn’t specifically ask you to come alone, trust me, I would’ve been there,” I replied. I gave her shoulders asqueeze. “But I’m only one call or text away. And if things get bad, I’ll steal a car and come and get you. Promise.”
“You could just get an Uber or something. Just a thought,” she said. But then she pulled me into a hug and took a deep, fortifying breath. “Wish me luck.”
“You won’t need it. You’re going to be fine,” I said reassuringly. “I’ll see you off.”
I walked Mads to her taxi, helping her haul her luggage across campus grounds. Watching the car tear away from the parking zone and disappear around the bend, I wrapped my arms around myself, shivering in the crisp, November air. The weather had officially taken its turn with the warm reds and oranges now slowly giving way to the frail Winter chill. And with Mads gone, I was just beginning to realize how lonely I actually was this holiday season.
I’d already called my mom and wished her a Happy Thanksgiving, given her the necessary updates and gone through all the motions. She was chasing the sunnier days in Arizona with a friend and probably wouldn’t be back until closer to Christmas. And while Chloe, James and the others had parties lined up for the entire weekend, I just didn’t see the point of going if Mads wasn’t going to be there.
Hence, my current lonely state.
I began making my way back to the dorms, trying to ignore the gnawing thought that both Ronan and Lucas had been too busy to accept my invitation to do anything. Something about family holiday obligations and overdue admin, respectively. And while I knew those were perfectly reasonable excuses and I wasn’t owed anything, that knowledge did nothing to numb the sting.
I tried not to let my thoughts stray into the territory of what-ifs. This was supposed to be a new me, and the new me didn’t immediately jump to the worst possible conclusion.
But the cold made everything worse and I wasn’t planning on burying myself in the warmth of my books this Winter.
My phone beeped with the notification of a new message. It was Oren, finally getting back to me with his own response.
Oren: I’m free. :)
My stomach flipped. Despite the excitement at receiving his message, I couldn’t help but smile in amusement at the use of a smiling face. He used characters instead of an emoji like a normal person would.
Me: Have anything in mind?
Oren: I have a fireplace and hot chocolate. I’m not sure I can guarantee we won’t catch frostbite choosing to do anything else.
Me: That sounds like a bribe to me.
Oren: Is it working?
Me: Maybe.
Oren: Great. Would you like me to pick you up?
Me: No thanks, I’ll make my way there in a bit. Need to do something first.
Oren: Sure.
He sent his address and I sped up my steps so I could take a shower and make myself at least somewhat presentable. It was funny how even despite everything that had happened between us already, I was still nervous to see him. It wasn’t so muchanxiety as it was the restlessness of being with him one-on-one for the first time since our last dinner.
I wasn’t sure what to expect, but the second I stepped foot out of the cab and saw him, I immediately felt at ease. Oren was waiting for me at the door, walking out into the cold to usher me in. His gloved hands were on my arms, rubbing warmth into them the second we were out of the cold and had the door shut.
“Hey,” he said with a smile before shrugging out of his thick coat and hanging it on one of the racks attached to the wall. “You can leave your things here, if you like. It’s warmer inside.”
“That’s an understatement!” I exclaimed, swiveling around to look for the source of the lovely heat that was currently toasting the entirety of the entryway.
“Perks of being a boy scout,” he said, giving me a wink. “You learn to light good fires. Do you take marshmallows in your hot chocolate?”
“As many as would be considered polite,” I said, and he laughed, waving me over to join him as he made his way to the kitchen. Once I was free of my parka, I followed, my eyes going wide as I took in the interior of his house.
The layout was rigid—ordered rooms separated by monochromatic walls that offered no spatial flow whatsoever. It was neat and functional but just as cold as the weather outside. Or, it might’ve been, if not for the heavy wool rugs and linen curtains, the only break in the explosion of neutral colors. It was an interesting contrast.
Unlike Lucas, he didn’t have any photos on the walls of his living room, or niche artwork like Ronan that he could use as a conversation piece. Oren’s house was pretty much the embodiment of his data-driven and pragmatic mind.
“It’s not the coziest home, I know,” he said, almost sheepishly as he retrieved a can of cocoa from one of the sleek, handle-less drawers.
