“Chris will never know,” she said, her brown eyes begging him.
“I’d know. There’s no way anyone would see us together and not know. Besides…” He took a deep breath. “I have this fear that if I touch you once, I’ll never stop.”
She smiled quickly, showing him the cute dimple next to her mouth, the one he’d dreamed of kissing for years.
“Then don’t.” She tried to move his towel again, but he easily held her still.
“I have another policy; I don’t take advantage of drunk women.”
“I’m not that drunk,” she added, rolling her eyes.
“Oh yeah?” He smiled. “Say the word invention again.”
She narrowed her eyes at him in response. He chuckled. “You didn’t finish your dinner.” He’d cleared the dishes and put the leftovers in the fridge. “Why don’t you go in, heat it up and—”
“I don’t want food,” she said, taking a step back. “I want you. I’ve wanted you for as long as I can remember.”
He’d felt the same way but knew that there was no way he’d be able to live with himself if he allowed things to continue. He had promised Chris.
Taking a giant step away from her, he bent to pick up the clothes he’d dropped to the floor. She moved closer to him. Tossing the clothes on the bed, he turned back to her. “Let’s go get you something to eat. Even if it’s not the spaghetti.”
“I don’t—”
“I bought a carton of ice cream.” He smiled when her eyebrows shot up.
“Mint chocolate chip?” she asked.
“Of course.” He smiled and nudged her towards the kitchen. “I’ll put on some clothes…” She turned back to him, hunger in her eyes. “Alone. I’ll meet you in the other room.” He pushed her playfully towards the kitchen.
He pulled on a pair of his sweats and a T-shirt and walked into the other room. She was sitting in front of the dying fire with the entire carton of ice cream, and two spoons, in her lap.
He tossed a couple more logs onto the embers and sat next to her.
“Here.” She handed him one of the spoons, pulled her feet up onto the sofa, and opened the lid.
“I’d forgotten you took theater,” he said, taking a scoop of the ice cream.
“Junior high and high school.” She sighed as she took a bite. “I wanted to take acting classes at college, but…”
“What?” he asked after she shrugged.
She turned to him slightly. “I showed up and watched them practicing for a play they were putting on. Everyone was so much better than I was.” She took another scoop.
“If my memory serves me right, you played the lead in almost every play.”
“That doesn’t mean I’m that good. We only had two hundred kids in our high school. There were easily a hundred people in the theater class.” She frowned.
“It’s not too late. Besides, just because you’re not the best doesn’t mean you couldn’t have learned something new. That is what college is all about.” He nudged her shoulder.
“Besides, my schedule was seriously hectic.”
“Now you’re making excuses.” He set his spoon down and leaned back on the sofa, suddenly really tired. The stress from driving in the deep slick snow had worn him out.
“Not really,” she answered. “I guess I just… grew out of it all.” She shrugged and he could tell she was really thinking about something deeply. “Even school.” She shook her head as if she hadn’t meant to say it out loud.
“I thought you were really excited about school?” He asked, thinking of how she’d talked about it earlier.
“I’m just… tired of it all.” She glanced at him sideways.
He leaned up again. “Of school?”
“Yeah.” She set the carton down and wrapped her arms around herself. “I thought college would be like high school, only… better.”
“It’s not?” he asked, knowing his own experiences. He’d never been as good at school as Alice and Chris, but he managed to keep straight A’s with a lot of arduous work.
“No.” Her eyes moved to his. “I suppose I miss my old friends.”
When she moved closer to him, he stood up and took the ice cream back to the freezer. “Alice.” He turned and realized she’d followed him. He almost bumped into her. He took her shoulders in his hands. “I can’t do this.”
“Can’t or won’t?” she asked softly.
“Both,” he answered. “Besides, I’m very tired.” He figured that would stop her. Her eyes moved to the dark windows and he watched her shoulders slump.
“I suppose we’re going to be stuck here for a few days.”
He watched the heavy snowflakes falling in the light outside and agreed. “Looks that way.”
Without a word, she turned away from him and started walking to her room.
“Night,” he called out.
She stopped in the doorway. “This isn’t over,” she said softly before shutting the bedroom door.
No, he didn’t think it was. Not when they were going to be stuck together in one of the most romantic settings he’d seen in a long time.
Throwing a few more logs on the fire, he decided to settle on the sofa for a while and watch the flames. His body was tired, but his mind was going a million miles a minute.
He pulled out his phone. Since Chris was grounded in LA, he’d probably be asleep already, but he shot off a quick text to him anyway.
-Snowed in somewhere in Oregon. Found a B&B to crash at. I don’t know how long we’ll be stuck. Heard you got grounded in LA.
He was slightly surprised when his phone rang instead of a text coming back to him.
“Hey,” he answered Chris’s call.
“Hey, I heard it’s pretty bad up there.”
“Yeah.” He glanced towards the windows. “It’s still coming down. We already have about a foot and a half.”
“Mom was really upset when I told her we probably won’t make it there until just before Christmas.”
“Us?” he asked curiously.
“Yeah. I was bringing Dawn home. It was supposed to be a surprise, but since we’re snowed out…”
“You’re serious about this one?” he asked, glancing towards the back room, hoping he wasn’t too loud.
“Yes.” Chris’s tone turned toward excitement. “I think she’s the one.”
“So, why not drive her up with Alice? That way the two of them—” Chris’s chuckle stopped him.
“Alice and Dawn on a car trip? No thanks. Besides, Dawn could only get a few days off from work. We were set to fly out, but now our flights have been put on permanent hold. At least until the storm slows down.”
He sighed and wondered if he should tell his best friend about his thoughts towards Alice.
“What’s wrong?” Chris asked.
“Nothing,” he answered automatically.
“Dude, I know you too well. I can hear that brain of yours cranking. Did something happen with Alice?” His friend’s tone turned eager.