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Where am I?My eyes won’t open, though the sounds around me remind me of all the times we’d have bonfires at my farm. There’s a heat radiating around my body, and if I didn’t know better, I’d say I’m cocooned in something and can’t move. I’m lying on a pillow of softness, and there’s movement around me. The weight shifts underneath, and what is that noise? Is it snoring?
Why can’t I open my eyes? Are they sewn shut?
An arm wraps around me, and I don’t remember Jen being with me last night. As a matter of fact, we’ve not been together in a while, and yet someone has her arms around me.
It all comes flooding back. The snow enveloped the car. The mile hike with snowflakes the size of my hand falling from the night sky. The remembrance of my father’s accident that had taken his life. Then my ankle. And in it all, Jen wasn’t with me. As I peel my eyes slowly open, I’m finally allowed to see the sharp features and blond hair of Xander Lynol. His arm pulls me closer to him, and fuck…
I attempt to break from his grip, but as I do, the whoosh of the cold air around us pulls me back to him. And am I naked? Body heat. I’ve read about this before. This is the reason his body is pushed up to mine. It’s how we were taught to survive in Boy Scouts. But cozying up to the man who’d declared me his enemy since the third grade wasn’t how I saw my Thursday night going.
“Xan, Xan?”
“Shut up. You were cold, I was cold. Don’t read into it.”
Yeah, I already tried to roll from his embrace, and I didn’t like being away from his body. His warmth pulls me back to him. It’s what we need. And for the first time, I won’t argue with him.
“Nah, it’s not that. How long have I been asleep?”
He lets out a moan, and darkness swallows us whole beside the glow of the fireplace.
“Not sure, not long enough.” His speech isn’t clear, and I hold on tight to him as his brain is still foggy from the tone of his voice. “It’s eleven. You’ve been out for three hours. I waited until the fire was going good.”
“Am I naked?” I ask because I’m warm for the first time since his car swerved.
“No, Farmer, you’re not naked, thank fuck, your boxers seemed dry.”
“And you touched my boxers to make sure?”
“You’re warm, aren’t you? Toasty actually? Want me to toss you back in the snow, asshole?” His tone is uncharacteristically a tease, in the playfulness of his voice.
“No need for that, dickhead,” I jest, and begin to laugh, but the chuckle soon turns to a cough, a product of being out in the elements as long as we had been.
“You sound bad? You okay?” He still has his arm draped around my side; his warm body close to mine. Does he have underwear on? Is he a brief or a tighty-whiteys kind of guy? And why do I care?
“You concerned about me, Xan?” He doesn’t answer, and I continue with my following questions. “Any luck with your cell phone? And what are we sleeping on?” It’s not the floor because there’s padding underneath us.
“No luck with the cell phones, and we’re on a pull-out couch.” His body shuffles behind me, but his heat is still against me, and I appreciate it. “I don’t think the Rogers own this cabin anymore. It looks like it’s been used strictly for hunting. There are no beds in the two bedrooms. From what I remember, Mrs. Rogers kept it much nicer than it is now. Barely any sign of life, except for all this chopped wood, which I appreciate, and cans of beans, tomatoes and tuna along with bottled water.”
“So, tell me, Mr. Money Bags, if we crashed ten miles earlier, what would the conditions be at the Lynol family cabin?”
“Well…” He lets out a snort, and with it, the deepness of his pitch changes. “It would certainly be different.” The reverberation of his words off my skin has me holding still. What has come over me, and why does his voice sound like silk?
“How different?” I ask. After the one forced playdate, Ma realized Xander and I would never be friends. Still, she and Liz would always go away on girls-only trips to their cabin. Ma said it was the Four Seasons of Mansions in the woods.
“Didn’t your mom tell you?”
Ma is close to Liz because she’s a dear friend, and both had very few of them. She never spoke of the money the Lynols had compared to us, not wanting anyone to think she clung to Liz’s friendship because of what Mrs. Lynol could do for her.
“Not really, just spoke about it being the typical mansion in the forest,” I jest with a tease.
He doesn’t react to my joke. As he begins to speak, his voice has a strain that had been missing a second ago. “It’s what you would expect of Lyle Lynol’s mountain cabin. Over the top, way too fancy for a family of three, and because my dad pushed away every single friend he had, along with friends my mom and I made, it always seemed unnecessary.”
I’ve never heard Xander talk about his father in this way. It’s no secret that the two Lynol men have a strained relationship. Still, in Xan’s tone, there’s a vehemence I’ve never seen in him unless directed toward me.
“He never pushed away my ma,” I mention, and Lyle had tried, this much I know. Still, Liz Lynol and Martina Farmer’s friendship was forged the day we threw punches for the first time.
“No, Mrs. Farmer never gave up. Never.” He pauses, and we’re quiet for a couple moments. “Sorry. Talk about first-world problems. I must sound pathetic, whining about my rich daddy and how one of our second homes is too sterile for me.” He clears his throat, and his body relaxes into mine again. “Anyway, there are snowmobiles, a landline, an extra car, and five bedrooms, with beds in every room. We wouldn’t have to share a bed. And, we have electricity and heat. We’d have a way off this mountain in a day or two.”
