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Delaney doesn’t say anything for so long that I eventually turn back to find her watching me, a strange expression on her face. “Maybe you could do it here in Tahoe?”
Smirking, I tap the end of her nose as I say, “Maybe you could do the same?”
Exhaling, she falls back onto my shoulder. “College costs money and money is—”
The rest of her words are cut off by a sudden loud crash, before the window in the kitchen area shatters, the glass falling to the floor as a huge gust of freezing wind followed by a flurry of snow comes into the cabin.
“Fuck!” I shout, bolting up. “Get some shoes on,” I add, hurrying to the door to pull a pair of the hunting boots on. I quickly pull the chair out from under the door handle before stepping outside and grabbing the piece of plywood I’ve been using to clear a path to the outhouse each morning. I don’t know what I’ll do tomorrow, but right now I have no choice but to use it for the window. If I don’t get that covered up, we might not make it to tomorrow.
It's fucking freezing and like the last however many days we’ve been out here, it’s still fucking snowing too.
When I come back inside, I wedge the door shut again and turn to find Delaney in the kitchen area, boots on her feet as she rummages through the random box of crap we have. By the time I walk over there, she’s holding up a handful of rusty nails and a hammer.
“Thanks,” I say, grabbing the hammer as I walk over to the window, pinning the plywood against the now shattered glass. God knows what happened just then, maybe a branch blew into it. Tomorrow I should probably make sure the other window is clear so this doesn’t happen again. It’s not like we’re flush with supplies to repair this kind of shit.
“Nail?” she asks.
“Yep, thanks,” I reply, holding a hand out to her.
We work in silence, Delaney handing me the nails and me hammering them into the wooden wall of the cabin. The plywood is big enough to cover the whole window, although I can still feel a draft coming in around the edges because I can’t quite seal it against the cabin wall.
“I think that’s the best I can do,” I eventually say, stepping back to inspect it.
“One more thing,” Laney says, hip bumping me out of the way as she holds up a roll of duct tape.
I watch as she proceeds to duct tape around the whole piece of plywood, adding multiple strips of the silver industrial tape to each side until eventually the draft feels like it’s gone.
Smiling, she turns to face me, spinning the roll of tape on her fingers.
“Well fuck, aren’t you just a regular MacGyver,” I say, stepping closer as I hold a hand against the tape, checking for any leaks.
She stands beside me, her arms crossed over her chest. “Team effort, Alex.”
Chuckling, I reach for the dustpan and broom to sweep up the glass, loving this subtle change that’s come over her these past few days. Gone is the Delaney who felt helpless and angry and scared and in her place is that fun and feisty Delaney who loves to bust my balls. And although I know we’re both still trying to keep our fears in check, I love that she’s now feeling more like herself or whatever.
“You know, when we get out of here, we should totally go onSurvivoror theAmazing Raceor something together. We’d fucking kill it.”
Delaney laughs, shaking her head at me.
“What?” I say, elbowing her in the side as I walk past to empty the glass into the trash. “You don’t think we’d make a good team?”
She turns, raising a brow at me, a smirk on her face as she says, “Well, I mean, we haven’t always, have we.”
I toss the dustpan and broom into the corner before wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her closer. “Yeah, but when we do try, I think we make a fucking awesome team, don’t you?” I whisper, my hand sliding slowly up her spine.
“When we try?”
I smile, knowing it’s so much more than that. “Or when we just give in,” I suggest, my hand slowly making its way back down her spine, stopping just above her ass. “I don’t even think we have to try that hard to be awesome together, it just happens naturally. Almost like it can’t be helped actually.”
She laughs, slipping the roll of duct tape onto her wrist as she puts both hands on my chest, not quite pushing me away, but not really stopping me from coming closer either.
“Naturally,” she says.
“Clearly,” I whisper.
“And here I was thinking I’d suck atSurvivor.”
I smile, my forehead now resting against hers. “Not with me you wouldn’t.”
