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“Maybe you should take this underwear off,” Alex suggests, his fingers fumbling to untie the oversized sweatpants I have on.
“I thought you just wanted to cuddle?” I ask, my fingers lacing with his and resting across my torso. “I like cuddling with you.” I curl into him, my leg thrown over his.
“I like cuddling with you too. I like a lot of things with you.”
I close my eyes, taking in a breath, comforted by the closeness of his body, and hoping he feels the same way.
We fall silent for a few minutes, the sound of the crackling fire is far more soothing than I would have thought. I’ve grown used to falling asleep to the sound. And just when I think Alex has fallen asleep, he asks, “What do you miss most about home?”
“My bed. Hands fucking down my bed,” I answer without a moment’s hesitation.
“Oh, come on, this mattress on the floor isn’t that bad,” Alex replies, the sarcasm dripping from his comment. “At least we found clean sheets for it.”
“Clean?” I narrow my eyes at him, judging his choice of word. “They smell like everything else in here.”
“But we did find them in that closet all folded and shit, so in my book, they’re clean,” Alex defends, smiling at me.
“I guess I can’t argue with that logic. Everything in here was clean at one time and if we don’t look at it that way, then you’re wearing some dude’s boxers.”
“Balls on balls,” Alex says, barely getting the words out before he’s laughing hysterically.
“I picture him as some scary as fuck, dirty mountain man who lives out here hunting poor defenseless animals for fun. Hopefully he actually washes his clothes.”
“And I’m wearing his underwear,” Alex responds. “I’m certain they’re clean because I don’t want to think about Mountain Man Mike’s dirty dick mingling with mine.”
Alex has me laughing so hard tears are streaming down my cheeks. I have no idea how we got on the subject of Alex’s dick, but it’s definitely taken my mind off the mess we’re in. Between the alcohol and the laughs, it almost feels normal.
“What do you miss most about home?” I now ask, wiping at the tears on my cheeks and for once they aren’t out of fear.
He doesn’t respond right away and I wait, wondering what he’s thinking about. If I had to make a list, my bed would be number one, but if he asks me for other things, the list would be quite long. I miss the hot tub, indoor bathrooms, running water, pizza and washing machines. I miss Zoey and hearing her voice call out for me when she comes home from work. I miss books and TV and not being cold all the time.
“I miss you,” he finally answers, and I push myself up on my elbow to look at him. Confused by his answer since we’re here together. How can he possibly miss me when we sleep next to each other, rarely being apart for more than a few minutes?
“What do you mean?”
“I miss what we had. I miss being with you. I’m sorry I fucked it up.”
“Yeah, you did fuck up, but I wasn’t exactly innocent in it all either,” I immediately respond, knowing that I never fully let Alex in. I kept him at arm’s length, waiting for the moment when things would go to shit. And when it did, I just washed my hands of it.
“Thanks, but I know I did, and I made you respond that way because of the way I treated you. I said it before, I’m an asshole because that’s all I know.” I feel him tense in my arms, his body going rigid, his fingers tightening in mine.
“I gave up because I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t even try to understand why you were so mad that day. It felt like too much effort which wasn’t fair to you. You probably could have used a friend at that point.”
He doesn’t say anything, nodding almost imperceptibly, as if he’s letting what I said sink in. We’ve avoided serious conversations and it’s clearly because we both struggle with being open and honest.
This is something that weighs heavy on him, and as much as he wants to keep things bottled up, it also feels like he wants to tell me all about it. But I wouldn’t dare push him, knowing what it’s like to put your flaws out there, reminding yourself how you fucked up. No one likes to revisit what makes them ache.
“You don’t have to miss me. I’m here, Alex,” I tell him, wanting to be what he needs. I wrap my arms around him, pressing my lips against his chest as I run my hand up and down his back.
He struggles with being real, and even though each admission is small, it shows he’s letting me in. He’s learning to trust me, and I won’t ever do anything to break that bond between us. We both have things to share, past issues to work through and maybe being trapped here is the perfect place for us to start.
I close my eyes, the sounds of the fire and the quiet stillness of the cabin, lulling both of us to sleep. I feel the rhythmic rise and fall of Alex’s chest against my cheek, and I know we need each other more than we’re willing to admit.
The next morning,I wake up with a headache and Alex moans when I shift my body away from his. I rub my eyes, the morning light is reflecting off the snow in a way that is nearly blinding. It stings my eyes and makes my head throb even more.
Why the fuck did we drink that entire bottle of bourbon?
Turns out a hangover sucks just the same even when you don’t have to go to work or have any other responsibilities other than keeping a fire burning.
