Snowed In Part 2
As I enter the bedroom, Jeffrey shuts the door behind me, and I flinch. He narrows his eyes in my direction but does not comment. Instead, he busies himself by stuffing the space underneath the door with what looks like a blanket.
I slowly make my way towards Ace, who has settled in his bed next to his master’s bigger one. I don’t notice the dresser drawer with the hints of Jeffrey’s unique scent or the closet on the other side of the room. My focus is on the bed and the dark blue quilt.
“You certainly think highly of yourself,” a deep voice rumbles. I look up, and Jeffrey is staring at me.
“Excuse me?” I say past the ball in my throat.
“I have no interest in stuck-up bitches like you, so you don’t need to worry.”
My nose flares. “That’s totally un—.”
Jeffrey cuts me off by tossing a blanket. I didn’t even see him take it from the closet. “It’s still warm inside this room, so hopefully it stays that way. Use that…” and he indicates the blanket with his chin. “…if you’re cold. I’m going to sleep.”
I stand there with my mouth open as he climbs under his comforter, turns his back toward me, and makes himself comfortable. The dog’s light breathing suggests he’s already doing the same.
It takes more than a minute for the heaviness in my stomach to dissipate. By that time, the weight in my legs pulls me onto the bed. However, I do not settle under the covers as he does. I sit with my back against the wooden headboard and my feet outstretched.
Jeffrey’s dark hair looks deeper in the dim lighting, and I fiddle with my manicured nails to stop myself from reaching over and combing my fingers through it.
I squeeze my eyelids shut. This man is my adversary, my rival. Yet here I am, imagining the feel of his skin against my fingertips.
What is wrong with me? What curse did he cast to diminish my hatred toward him?
I bite my lower lip as I realize the answer to that question.
Nothing.
Jeffrey didn’t do anything because I never hated him in the first place. My aggression is simply a result of his actions. When I first saw him hauling wood in his backyard, I was mesmerized by his physique and the sweat glistening on his bare chest. I remember bragging to Maggie about my neighbor’s stunning appearance. Also, our first conversation wasn’t filled with hostility but with a friendly welcome and cheerful expectations. About a week after that, Jeffery started treating me harshly, so I did what comes naturally, and I built up my walls, my protection.
Now I’m wondering: what would’ve happened if I hadn’t?
Maybe Maggie’s right. I never really lowered them after my divorce, after Mark tossed me aside for not being equally admirable. Could it be that Jeffrey’s hostile attitude is all in response to my barricades, and I use it as an excuse to fortify my walls? What if he is the one reacting? This wouldn’t be the first time I pushed a man away, thinking he is at fault. The truth is, since Mark, I’m not as good as I used to be at reading people’s intentions. So, I moved to this small town to find solitude and escape the overwhelming presence of others.
Rubbing the back of my neck, I say, “I’m…really grateful for this. You know…taking me in. You didn’t have to. So…thanks.”
The response takes so long, I almost believe it’s not coming. But he chokes out, “As I said, I can’t have your death on my conscience.”
“Still. You’re a good guy.”
Jeffrey’s shoulders stiffen up, and once again I fight the urge to reach over to him, to find out what is going through that mind of his.
“What are you thinking about?”
Did I just ask that? Stupid, stupid, stupid.
I raise my hand to my forehead, but I stop short of hitting it.
“You don’t have to answer that. I’m just…making small talk so the time goes by.”
Jeffrey flips over onto his back, his hands clasped behind his head, so he looks at the ceiling. “The red velvet cake at Hometown Brews. Should have bought a slice before the shop closed.”
“I know, right? That’s actually my favorite. It’s so moist with the perfect amount of sweetness.” My mouth waters as I picture the cake, almost tasting it. Then my head whips over, and I stare daggers at him. “Wait a minute. Didn’t you say you don’t eat sweets?”
“I didn’t say that,” Jeffrey speaks in a lighthearted tone, and I notice a slight curve to his lips. His tension has all melted, giving way to softer features. “You didn’t hear correctly, with the gusts and all.”
This man is an enigma, a puzzle of unreadability, and his moods shift like the wind. I’m not certain I can handle it, but I’ve decided to just go along with it.
“Yep,” I agree, finding it hard not to match his upbeat mood. “That must be it.”
Jeffrey chuckles, and the sound makes me hyperaware of my body. The room becomes so hot that I think I might pass out, but I swallow hard and force myself to focus.
When I hear the shattering sound from the living room, I scream and look wildly about, but I don’t move. I listen as the howl rushes in, tossing aside papers and other objects not secured. It wails and spreads its rage, bringing with it a chill. Next to me, Ace shoots up, and in a flash, he’s growling at the door.
“Down, boy,” Jeffrey says. “It’s just the wind.” The dog sits upright, but its ears remain erect.
There is a distinct noise of something bulky tumbling, and I jump, blocking my scream with my hand. If Maggie could see me now, she would boast about being correct. My friend had warned that my skittishness would make it difficult for a woman living alone in an isolated area, but I didn’t listen. I wanted to get as far as possible from Mark and everyone who thought he was right. However, I can understand the point Maggie is making. Since my move, the sounds of raccoons rummaging and deer coughing in the darkness have kept me awake. Sometimes I even regret the entire decision.
I’m mumbling now, coaxing myself to relax, reminding myself that I expected this, as a warmth envelope me. It’s Jeffrey, wrapping the blanket that he’d given me earlier around my shoulders, but he doesn’t move away. He keeps his hands there, lightly tapping. “It’s okay,” he says. His tone is soft. “We’re safe here.”
Our heads are mere inches from each other as I turn toward him. We’re so close I can feel the warmth of his breath tingling my neck, but instead of pulling away, I stretch, exposing more of myself to him. My heart’s pounding so hard I feel the vibration throughout my body, and I swear he can hear my breathing, but I don’t care. When I look into Jeffrey’s eyes, I am…lost.
Jeffrey and I both stare, fixed in position. Then, our lips meet with the gentlest of touches.
I become a bolt of electricity with a racing pulse, banging heart, and weak knees. My body leads me closer, and I fold into him, parting my lips to give him access, to deepen the kiss. The storm’s fury fades, and a gentle melody, like a delicate string orchestra, plays in my mind. I latch onto it, willing the song to continue into infinity. Yet it wanes.
Jeffrey pulls away, rubbing the back of his neck as he pushes himself away from the bed. “I guess you’re right. I am that narcissist.” He gives a nervous laugh. “Would it be too much to ask you to forget that kiss?”
Why?
The way he flips from compassion to ruthlessness gives me whiplash.
My face must be screaming the word in my mind because he continues without me answering. “Didn’t think so.” He sighs. “Though I don’t believe your opinion of me can get any lower. You’ve made it clear that I’m the scum of man.”
Wait, what?
I pinch my nose bridge, trying to decipher his statements.
I’ve called Jeffrey a lot of things in the past year: asshole, idiot, muscle brain, but narcissist has never been one of them. I don’t recall naming him an embarrassment to the entire male population, either.
“What are you talking about?” Even now, the storm still rages, but my rising body heat cancels out the cold. “I don’t even know you well enough to make such accusations.”
“Don’t play innocent, Sarah.” Jeffrey’s voice comes across with the same harshness as the blizzard. “I heard it myself.” Outside, another loud crash echoes, but I don’t flinch. I’m unable to focus on anything but our conversation. “You told the waitress at Hometown Brews that you can’t stand living near a narcissist like me.”
I dig through my mental records, trying to recall that conversation. Melanie, the waitress at the cafe, and I became instant friends, so it’s not uncommon for me to confide in her. Could she have relayed information to Jeffrey? No, we never discussed this. In fact, the only person I’ve ever called an egoist is …
As the conversation springs into my memory, the storm outside quietens. The wind goes from howling to a whisper, and the cold air seems less biting.
I take a deep breath and release it. “That wasn’t about you, Jeffrey.” My speech is rushed, and the words almost don’t come out clearly. “I was talking about my ex, Mark.”
His wide eyes fix on me, lips slightly parted, mirroring the hushed nature of the storm. Then he scoffs. “Aren’t I the biggest idiot?”
I nod and aim my pointer finger at the ceiling. “That one I did say.”
Jeffrey’s laugh starts softly, then builds into a booming sound as his entire face animates. I can’t help myself and realize that I am joining in. When it dies down, the quiet is loud.
“I think the worst of the storm has passed. I’m going to take a look. Stay here,” Jeffrey says, but as he swings open the door, I’m behind him.
The rest of my neighbor’s house is trashed with soiled books, broken glass, and patches of snow blankets. I take him in as he assesses the damage with a sagging posture. Then he sighs. “I should probably start cleaning this mess.”
“We could do it now. Or later, after a hot cup of coffee,” I say, pointing to my house, which, through the remnants of the storm, is lit up like a Christmas tree.
Jeffrey’s lip twists, and I feel the rejection in his words. “You don’t have to help me clean.”
“But I’m going to anyway, and there’s nothing you can do to talk me out of it.” Although there’s a musical tone to my voice, there is also a finality.
Jeffrey’s hands go limp before he freezes, and I can see the wheels in his head turning. So, I coax a little more. “I have cake.”
When his smile displays dimples, I know I have him. “I would love cake.”
Editor: Shannon Hensley
