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Jenna laughed, and I was surprised to hear what a lovely sound her genuine laugh was. “Fair enough. Do you want some?” she asked, holding up her cup.
“Sure,” I said. “Unless you’re planning on poisoning it.”
“Don’t tempt me,” she said, and I was only about fifty percent sure she was teasing me.
It was a nice departure from the Jenna I’d met yesterday, who’d been so insufferable I was genuinely worried about how I was going to make it through being snowed in together. This Jenna had a little bit of a fire to her, and, God help me, I liked it.
A few minutes later, she came back with a mug for me. I noticed there was no rum in it this time. I looked up at her and saw her staring at me. She looked like she wanted to say something, but instead, she turned and went back to the couch she’d slept on, sitting down and opening her book.
That kiss last night had come out of nowhere, and I wasn’t sure where that left us, especially after the conversation that followed. She seemed a little lighter than the day before, but there was still a note of unsureness on her part, something I could relate to.
“I thought we weren’t talking to each other,” I finally said.
She shrugged. “I was already bored with no one to interact with while you were sleeping. Didn’t want to feel so lonely with you awake, too.”
The idea that my presence would make her feel less lonely helped me to relax a little, though it brought with it a host of new anxieties. After we’d kissed, things had been so uncomfortable. But, I had to admit, the kiss itself had been good.
Or maybe I just forgot what it felt like kissing someone.
“Well,” I said, taking a sip of my hot chocolate to cover how awkward I felt at this new tension between us and failing. “It’s still snowing.”
“Yeah,” Jenna said, looking away from her book but not meeting my eyes. “It really is.”
Silence blossomed between us again.Great job, Gabe,I scolded myself.Way to make it less weird.
After a few moments, I decided to busy myself by tending the fire, hoping she might pick up the conversation. When she didn’t, and I couldn’t pretend to be stoking the already roaring fire any longer, I finally gave up and went back to reading my own book.
But within a few hours, we’d both finished what we’d brought to read, not having planned on needing much. Once we were both left with nothing else to do but watch the fire burn, Jenna finally broke the silence.
“I do love a fire at Christmas,” she said wistfully, staring at the flames. “My dad would always build it while Mom cooked. Neither Dean nor I am a great cook, so we usually get stuff that’s easy to make or pre-made, but he makes the fire every year so that at least part of that tradition lives on.”
“I get what you mean about the food,” I said. “My parents always laid out a huge spread, even when it was only the three of us. I don’t really have the time for that kind of thing, and Christmases are usually a solo event for me, so Chinese food happens more years than not.”
“Speaking of time…” she said, eying me curiously. “What kinds of things do you do with your time? When you’re not ruining holidays, that is.” She shot me a grin at the end to let me know it was a joke, and I laughed.
“Ruining other days?” I teased back, chuckling. “No, I pretty much work.”
“That was kind of what Dean said, but I don’t think I really believed him. No one could possibly work that much.”
I shrugged. “Well, the last five years have been kind of a blur for me. There hasn’t been a whole lot else to do.”
“Why’s that?” she asked.
I opened my mouth, but hesitated. I wasn’t sure I wanted to share this, but we were snowed in with no one else for company. Besides, maybe being a little more open would help her to see me as less of a Grinch. “My, uh, my fiancée left me about five years ago. Right before Christmas, actually. And my parents had died a few years earlier, and I don't have any siblings or extended family. It was the first Christmas I spent truly on my own.”
“That’s horrible,” she said. “I lost my parents right before Christmas when I was eighteen, but I always had Dean, at least.”
“After a couple years, I got used to it. I just work to fill the time now. Dean is always trying to get me to loosen up and ‘live,’ but I think I’m past the point in my life where I want to go partying to meet random hookups.”
Jenna nodded. “I know what you mean. I’m only twenty-four and that kind of scene doesn’t interest me.”
“Not what it sounded like yesterday,” I teased, holding up my coffee mug. “Sounded like you were pretty regretful.”
“Well, isn’t that what people do when they panic?” she asked, blushing. “Don’t they suddenly wish they’d done everything differently even if they’re perfectly content with their lives?”
“Is it?” I asked.
“You have no idea. I’m in school to be a trauma nurse and the things people say when they think they’re going to die almost never mean a thing.” She shook her head. “It’s that could have, would have, should have kind of thinking. Ninety nine percent of people who survive really awful trauma never make a change.”
