Out of the Cold

Emilia

The clock on her mantle ticked past midnight.

She woke from a fitful doze and burrowed under the pile of musty blankets she’d cocooned herself in. But she still couldn’t get a heat in her.

They made her colder, if that was even possible. It was as though tiny crystals of ice sank into her pores and burrowed under her skin. Her chittering teeth kept waking her from sleep, where she would at least be unaware of how horrible she felt.

This was stupid.

She knew that, but couldn’t make herself get up. No matter what position she tried, whether she was in her bed or on the couch, she couldn’t relax.

Her muscles ached, the tip of her nose had frosted over. She curled and uncurled her numb toes to keep the blood flowing.

Every inch of her skin pebbled with gooseflesh as she huffed and rubbed her legs together like a demented cricket. Hoping friction would spark some heat. Only succeeding in annoying herself when it didn’t.

She could make tea, but it would only work for so long. The inevitable was approaching. She knew it.

Her obstinate refusal to acknowledge that faded with every passing second. Even her breath clouded in the glacial air.

The snow still draped the earth, unending clouds releasing their burden like the town had pissed them off. A personal attack on her, it felt like. She swore never to see the foul, icy substance again.

Fuck winter. Fuck it all.

She kicked free of the blankets. Bones stiff and brittle as winter branches. Emilia rose to her feet and hobbled to the bathroom. All the tea she drank earlier needed an outlet.

She consoled herself that it would at least feel warm as she hissed at the freezing toilet seat and relieved herself. Once she was done, the unpleasant task of washing her hands in cold water made her want to knock herself out until the storm passed.

Resolving to keep moving and get her blood going, she paced quick tracks around her bedroom. She swung her arms in windmilling circles, feeling like a Grade-A idiot.

She ran her hands through her hair, biting her lip and wishing there was another way out of this that wasn’t begging Luke to let her sleep on his couch.

He offered. Still, she turned it down and swore she would be fine. He’d laugh in her face.

The voice in her head rebutted that idea. He’s sweet. Stop being dumb. All her interactions with Luke had been pleasant, and if not overly warm, they weren’t hostile.

She knew he preferred solitude and was a considerate neighbor. He never held loud parties. He rarely made a sound if she was honest. And though he wasn’t a chatterbox like her, he always responded.

Her long, low sigh trembled with her hands as she smoothed them down her tatty pajamas, stumbling over her feet. She welcomed the crimson burn in her cheeks as she gave up on toughing it out. Her pulse flickered in her throat as she slipped on shoes and left her icebox home.

Every step toward his place felt like she was moving through molasses. There was a sour taste in her mouth as she imagined his smug face. She dragged up as much false bravado as she could find, and tentatively knocked on Luke’s door.

As if he’d been waiting for her, it swung open almost instantly. His eyes shone and locked on her. His plush, bristled lips parted as he loosed a breath.

“I had a feelin’ you’d turn up,” he said and pushed the door wider, beckoning her inside.

She didn’t know how to reply to that. Too focused on the cold nipping at her skin. She ducked under his arm and murmured her gratitude as he locked up and showed her inside.

Her eyes skittered over his neat living room. A worn leather couch and two matching armchairs gathered around a small coffee table. His taste in decor was sparse and practical. She noted a few photos of people she didn’t know.

He was in only one of them. It featured a short, raven-haired girl with dirt smeared on her cheek, a feral grin on her lips as Luke hung her upside down by the ankle. His smile more subdued but no less delighted.

Glorious heat washed over her as his great white dog lifted her head and wagged her bushy tail. Emilia's first genuine smile went to the animal as Luke urged her to sit down.

He vanished inside the kitchen. The open door across from her filled with his shadow as he moved around. His apartment was laid out the same as hers. She heard him stirring something after a few long minutes of staring off with Storm.

The dog seemed to want to come to her, but her master must’ve warned her to behave.

She stretched out a hand toward her, letting her snuffle her frigid fingers. Storm edged nearer, and her damp nose huffed Emilia's scent before allowing her to sink her hand into the soft fur of her neck. She scratched under her ear and Storm’s tongue lolled free of her smiling mouth.

The heat pouring off the stunning animal made Emilia want to hug her and let her melt the ice encasing her bones.

“Be careful. She’ll let you do that all night,” Luke said, making her jerk her hand back at his sudden reappearance.

Storm gave her human a look that almost seemed like she was calling Luke a killjoy.

“If I had her next door, there would be no need for me to be here,” She said, trying to lighten the mood as uncertainty and tension filled the air between her and Luke.

He handed her a mug she accepted gratefully, wrapping her hands around it. She breathed in the familiar blend of tea and honey. A sip told her it was the same one she used at home. Interesting.

She took him as more of a black coffee guy. Although she had no evidence for that conclusion, and tea suited him fine as he drank a little of the steaming liquid.

Luke sat across from her, setting his cup down on the coffee table between them and scrubbing a hand at his jaw.

She studied him through her lashes as he looked at the curtained window, swallowing twice. Her eyes followed the motion as he struggled for words.

Something inside her melted. A calm energy settling over her like a blanket. Her own anxiety gentled as she realized he was nervous, too.

“Thank you, Luke. For letting me stay. I promise I’ll pay you back somehow,” she whispered, afraid to spook him as he faced her and gave her a bemused smile that made her feel off-kilter.

“I didn’t offer, so you’d owe me,” he said a little too vehemently for the situation, and she didn’t know what she’d done wrong.

“No, I know. I just—I’m putting you out, and you don’t have to help. I don’t take it lightly. That’s all I meant.” Gods, this was awkward. 

She tried not to show it as he leaned toward her. Gaze tracking her hand as she scratched her collarbone. She wondered where her usual confidence was.

The unflappable Emilia who could bring CEOs to their knees with a killer PowerPoint presentation was nowhere around as the tension thickened to a smothering fog.

It seemed to rub against her skin like a curious cat. The thrumming in her ears magnified every noise in the flat as all her usual go to’s escaped her.

Storm’s soft breathing sounded like a cymbal crash as she waited Luke out. His thoughts ran like water across his pretty face. The snow battering his windows more like stones as they hit their mark.

If they were going to stare at each other the whole time, she’d rather freeze in her own home. Luckily, he found his voice.

“It’s nothin’. Don’t worry about it.”

Her brows lifted. Her smile stretched wider at his abashed tone. His cheeks bloomed with roses. She was glad he was as unsure as she.

It made her braver.

“If you say so. I owe you my fingers and toes, at least. They would’ve fallen off by morning otherwise.”

He chuckled with a flash of white teeth, dark eyes glittering as they met hers. The roughened, rich sound sent a shiver that had nothing to do with being cold down her spine. She went snowman still when he cut the gorgeous laugh off.

No wonder he barely spoke. He had the power to stop her in her tracks with a single chuckle. No more jokes. Not yet. She wasn’t confident she could keep her face blank if he laughed again.

Giving herself a shake, she hid her face in her tea, gulped it down, and burned her mouth. Her face scrunched before she caught herself, hand quaking as she sat it across from his. The uneasiness slowly lightened somehow. She petted Storm whenever the pup raised her head.

The chill was seeping from her bones, leaving them leaden and sore. Her tired eyes drooped, shoulders curving inward, which Luke didn’t miss.

“I’ll take the couch. You take the bed. Storm will probably wander through at some point. She can open the door.”

She opened her mouth to protest, gobsmacked at how casually he said it. Take his bed. Jesus. No.

It was his house. She was just happy she wouldn’t have to be thawed out when help finally reached her. She couldn’t take his bed after all he’d done for her already. Her mouth opened, but held up a hand and shook his head.

“Just take it, Li—Emilia. I wouldn’t have offered if it wasn’t okay.”

Snapping her mouth shut, she sighed as he got up and walked off before she could wrangle her thoughts in order. She ambled after him, patting Storm's head on her way as Luke showed her inside his bedroom.

They stood so close she had the strangest notion he could hear the erratic beat of her heart. She drew in a steadying breath and surveyed his tidy room. It was also decorated in shades of gray and white.

A double bed took up most of the space under the window, and a matching dark wood dresser stood off to the left. A small bookshelf laden with paperbacks and hardbacks sat to the right of the bed. Her eyes lit up, intending to go through them all later to see what he liked to read.

The black comforter on the bed was rumpled, as if he’d tossed and turned before giving up and waiting for her to knock.

Too tired to examine that, she tilted her head back to meet his eye and smiled softly. Laying a hand on his arm in thanks as she crossed the threshold.

Awkwardness stole over her again, fingers toying with her shirts hem as she spun to face him. He was already watching her, something danced in his eyes that she didn’t have a name for as he fiddled with the doorknob.

Needing to break the tense quiet, she said, “I feel like I’ll run out of thank you’s if I keep saying it, but I mean them. I really wouldn’t mind sleeping on the couch, Luke.”

He didn’t bother arguing with her; he only smiled and said, “Goodnight, Emilia.” And shut the door, leaving her blinking and smiling.

Her stupid heart skipped again. The way his tongue caressed her name should be illegal. All gravelly and dark as his eyes. She didn’t know it could sound so magical. The weight of the long day soon won out over her overactive imagination and emotions.

She padded to the bed and peeled the covers back, mechanically getting in and willing herself to relax. She ensconced her senses in his fragrant scent, sweet, cool, and musky all at once, intoxicating as she breathed it in and closed her eyes.

There was something familiar about it. That comforting feeling she had earlier returned as she relished in warmth. Sleep lured her in—her reluctance to take his bed evaporating with the ice in her marrow.

Maybe the snow would ease, and she could pay him back before she got on his nerves.

She could only hope as her mind went blessedly blank, and she fell into dreams of sunny climes.