Chapter 8
Bee
I wedged my fingertips between the heavy metal auto-closing doors, attempting to claw them apart. I was instantly blown back by a gust of wind before they snapped shut again. Owen lunged at me, causing the tram to rock in one direction. With his arms around my waist—the man was far too tactile—he hauled me back to the opposite side. The Can rocked back in the other direction. We tumbled against the wall, but he never loosened his grip.
“What are you doing? Are you crazy?!” His hold was like a vise, but his voice shook.
“I’m not staying here, and I am not crazy! That’s terribly offensive.” I hit at his hands, but he didn’t so much as flinch.
“That’s a twenty-foot drop or more. You would break every bone in your body!”
Why did he care about my safety so much? Why was he so determined to bring me down this mountain? It didn’t make any sense. Even if everybody else thought I was ridiculous—if they thought of me at all—at least I knew who I was and what I wanted. I just really wanted NYNB to work. I wasn’t ready to give up.
“I don’t think it’s that high. And there’s a little ladder on the pole thing. I wasn’t going to jump down. Look, I’ll show you,” I explained, trying to get up.
He didn’t let me move an inch.
“You probably couldn’t see it anyway, but trust me,” I mumbled.
“Yes, you’ve instilled nothing but trust in me since we met,” he grumbled in my ear, not letting me go.
I suppressed a shiver as his breath tickled down my collar.
“If I climb down the ladder, it’s only a few feet drop into all that fresh powdery snow. Like jumping onto a bed,” I explained. He was too clouded by his own fears to see the situation clearly. Not like me. Thankfully, one of us was being rational.
“You cannot be serious,” he said.
“I am.”
“Then what? It’s horrible out there,” he asked, his breath hot against my ear, his voice rumbling against my back.
I straightened, and the muscles in his arms flexed.
Fine, I’ll stay contained within your rock-hard flesh prison where it’s warm and yummy smelling.
“We only rode ten minutes,” I explained. “This thing can’t be going faster than a couple of miles per hour. So that’s what, two miles tops? It’s just a straight shot back up to the mountain.”
“None of that math sounds right.”
“Give it up. You’re not getting me back down this mountain tonight. At least let me go back up.” I struggled futilely against him. Not that I was keeping track, but Owen and I had embraced a lot tonight already.
“As the crow flies,” he said, low and menacing.
“What? Nobody is even talking about birds right now. Now, who’s the insane one?” I grumbled under my breath. His body was still pressed hard against mine. It didn’t matter that there were all the layers between us. I was too aware of him.
“That calculation might be right as the crow flies, but you’re talking about climbing through wild, unmarked forest in a whiteout at night. That’s a recipe for death for anybody. Think about how many peaks and valleys there are. Isn’t this thing a thousand feet off the ground at one point?”
I didn’t want to speak because I wasn’t ready to admit he was right. Sometimes, my body launched into a plan without fact-checking with the brain. It would certainly be memorable if I died trying to climb my way back to the top, but not the sort of impression I was going for. The fight died out of me, and I slumped back against him.
“It’s warmer and safer in here. Walking back to the top is not an option,” he said with finality.
The plan would still happen. This was just a hiccup. NYNB didn’t have to be thrown out the window; it would only be put on hold until survival was no longer the top priority.
“Okay,” I said. He relaxed enough that I could finally move out of his arms. I probably should.
Eventually, I did.
We would ride out the night here in this freezing box of death. There was still time.
“Bee? Are you okay?” His gaze searched mine, and I could only begin to guess what he thought of me. We hadn’t met in stellar circumstances, and now we were about to become trauma-bonded.
“This is stupid,” I said.
He huffed out an amused breath at my verbal eloquence. “There’s no reception in this dead zone. But we still have the radio if there is an emergency,” he said, delivering more fun news.
I groaned and dropped my head into my hands, my half-cropped hair swinging past my ears. “Damn this weather. Damn this town,” I said. “For getting us stuck here.”
He stood. “We have heat. We have supplies. We’re going to be okay. It might be a long night, but as soon as the sun rises and the storm passes, help will come.” He sounded optimistic. Delusional but optimistic. Very much on-brand for me. I begrudgingly respected that.
I sighed and settled into the hard plastic bench. He sat in the one across from me. The cold was noticeable through the snow pants. I would be miserable if he hadn’t gotten me these clothes. It would be polite to thank him, but I wasn’t ready to. I had to keep my guard up around him. Not because I was scared, but because … well, I didn’t want to think about why. I just wanted to mourn the failure of this night so far. I pulled my hands into my sleeves.
“Azi said there are extra blankets and pocket hand warmers around here somewhere. We can break into the emergency stash any time we need to. I don’t have food or water?—”
“I have food.” I perked up.
Bee for the win.
I dug into my bag and pulled out a water bottle and a plethora of assorted snacks. I also had several pairs of panties. It was only meant to be one night, but you could never be too careful. He saw none of this except the food I fanned out between us.
“Were you planning to be up there a while?” he asked.
“No,” I answered too quickly. “That would be weird.” I focused intently on tucking away the panties deep into the bag to hide the guilt written all over my face.
I had been planning on at least the night. I wouldn’t feel comfortable stealing goodies from the snack bar.
“You didn’t have a winter coat, but you packed”—he turned over the treasures in his hand—“cookies, fruit snacks, and not one, but two different types of trail mix.”
“Sometimes you want more savory than sweet.” I shrugged.
He studied the assorted snacks. “Did a toddler pack your bag?”
I quickly shoved everything back into my bag, chin lifted haughtily.
“I get low blood sugar,” I said with a sniff. Thank God, the Pop-Tarts didn’t fall out, or I’d never hear the end of it.
One didn’t pack health food and protein bars when having a life-changing adventure.
“Oh no,” he said, his tone suddenly serious. “You’re diabetic?”
I narrowed my eyes. “No. But I get really hangry.”
He let out a breath. “Not really something to joke about.”
I looked at him blank-faced. “I’m not joking. I turn into a different person. Just ask Deckard. You think I’m short-tempered and impulsive now …”
His eyes widened fearfully. “Let’s hope it won’t come to that.”
We both looked out the window. The tram didn’t shake as much, which was a miracle with how close he’d come to hurling just a few minutes ago. With snacks returned for now, I rummaged around until I found the chile socks.
I looked up from where I tugged off my canvas shoes and slid on the extra chile socks he snagged for me. He watched me thoughtfully, worrying his big, pouty bottom lip. He was considerate. Aside from the abduction thing. I still didn’t understand why, though. Was it just for his job? Was he looking to be employee of the month? He didn’t have to make me feel comfortable too. I didn’t know how to handle this sudden attention and likely wasn’t handling it well. I would thank him when this was all over.
Not yet, though.
After that, we fell into silence. I checked my phone. No reception, as he warned. I looked out the window, not sure what I expected to see. It was called a whiteout for a reason. In the dark of the night, the streaming white flakes by the lights gave the effect of flying through space.
A chill wracked a shiver through me, but people making grand plans to change their lives weren’t put off by a little snow.
“Are you okay? Need the extra blankets?” he asked.
I really did, but I figured I should wait as long as possible before adding the extra heat because, after that, it was over. Again with the worry. I wasn’t used to this much notice. Even Deckard was a typically oblivious guy most of the time.
“No. I’m okay. I’m tricking my brain into thinking my body isn’t cold,” I said.
“How’s that going?”
“Splendidly.”
Not true. It was going terribly, and I couldn’t think about anything but the biting cold of the seat on my butt or the way my nose felt like it was minutes from falling off my face.
What we needed was a distraction. I reached for topics of conversation with Owen, but it felt like every single word had been blown out of my brain with this windstorm. What were words? What were icebreakers? Heh. Icebreakers. Relevant.
How did we kill time when we were trying not to freeze to death?
But more frightening was that I wanted to understand more about him. I felt intrigued by his gentleness and depth. I wanted to learn how he knew what a contronym was and to hear more examples. Were there any other cool words he could teach me? I found myself just basking in his general worry for me. This wouldn’t do. I was meant to be changing my life, not developing a crush on the guy who was supposed to stop me.
I had to stay focused.
For every fidget of my hands or tap of my heels, bouncing my head, he was as still as though in meditation. How could he be so serene? What sort of worries occupied his thoughts?
He just kept looking at me, checking on me. Seeing me.
I couldn’t stand this. If I had to stay looking at him, cataloging his attractive features and thinking of all the ways he’d cared for me already, these confusing, muddled feelings I was developing would only get worse. I wouldn’t make it another ten minutes if something didn’t change. My mind raced, and my body refused to stay still. It had only been ten minutes, yet a hundred years had surely passed.
I had to do something.
“Play a game!” He jumped when I shouted out of nowhere. I lowered and smoothed my voice. “To pass the time, we could play a game.”