Chapter 9
Who hurt you, Nora?
Wednesday morning, as Everett got ready for work, he wondered that for approximately the two-hundredth and fifty-seventh time. It was a good thing he didn’t have a sculpture planned until tomorrow. He wouldn’t have been able to concentrate well enough to pull it off.
He kept thinking about how she’d sipped her drink, about how she’d launched herself at him and ground herself against him until he’d almost come in his pants.
Then he’d spoken for the first time in minutes, and somehow, that had ruined it for her.
You’re so fucking hot.
He’d replayed those words over and over in his mind.
Had they been too crude for her? He doubted it.
No, it seemed like she struggled with a compliment about her appearance—or a compliment from him, in particular?
He wanted to understand, but he wouldn’t push her to explain.
She’d made it sound like the problem was her, not him, and he hated to think what was going through her head as she fled his apartment.
She usually seemed in control of herself, but Sunday had been different.
That evening, he’d sent her a single text. He’d typed and deleted it seven times, and what he’d sent still wasn’t quite right, but he’d been unable to find the correct words.
Everett: I’m sorry for how things ended. Don’t worry, I’ll keep my distance, but if you want to talk, you know where to find me.
He hadn’t seen her since, but that was nothing unusual: before he’d run into her at the first snow sculpture, he’d only seen her every few weeks.
He knew he had to give her space. If they encountered each other in the hall, that was one thing, but he wouldn’t seek her out, even if she was constantly on his mind. He’d wait for her to come to him.
Everett poured his coffee into a Santa mug and sat down with a bowl of cereal. In an attempt to forget about Nora, he picked up his phone and came across a photo of the walrus sculpture, surrounded by orange fencing.
As if that would stop anyone who wanted to destroy a snow sculpture.
He cleaned his dirty dishes before putting on his clothes for work.
Christmas was almost here, and it was his favorite time of year.
Even though he’d be spending the twenty-fifth alone, it was a wonderful season.
His plan was, overall, a success. His sculptures had turned out just as he’d imagined, and people were enjoying them.
He’d do his best to focus on the good things in life.
Nora was not in a good mood.
Earlier, she’d signed out an ebook from the library, and after a few minutes of reading, she’d started to get a strange feeling about the book. Something wasn’t quite right, and a little internet sleuthing revealed that yes, the text was likely AI-generated.
For fuck’s sake. Was it so wrong that she wished to relax with a novel written by an actual human?
She wanted to read stories that had been written with care, by a writer who’d wrestled with words, who might have sworn at the computer and procrastinated by cleaning the entire apartment and furiously dictated notes in the middle of the night; she didn’t want to simply consume content for the sake of it.
So, she’d pulled an old favorite off her shelf, unwilling to take a chance on anything new.
If she found an AI prompt in a book, she’d probably chuck something at the wall.
And now, she was in a Christmas-themed pop-up bar, seated next to a very large nutcracker. There was a young couple to her left, and a group of women in their thirties to her right. It wasn’t making her feel any less cranky.
“I’m not sure why you wanted to come here,” she muttered.
“I know it’s not your thing, but the drinks are good, aren’t they?” Aimee took a sip of hers. It was a violent shade of red.
Or a seasonally appropriate shade of red, as others might say. But Nora was feeling rather violent at the moment. Everything was making her angry today. When she’d been spending time with Everett, she hadn’t been quite as irritated with life in general, but then he’d uttered those words…
She tried her own drink. It was a twist on an old-fashioned—as in, the least offensively Christmasy thing on the menu—and it was decent. But, to her frustration, it wasn’t as good as the drink that her neighbor had made her.
“Yeah,” she said. “Sure.”
When Aimee frowned, Nora felt annoyed with herself for bringing down her friend’s good spirits. Aimee’s night with her new man had been amazing. She had that glowing I’m-in-love, I-just-had-sex look.
Nora shouldn’t find it quite so nauseating, but she did. “Tell me more about—”
“No,” Aimee said. “I want to know why you’re even grumpier than usual.”
“Am not,” Nora protested instinctively.
Aimee gave her a withering look.
Nora sighed. She considered bringing up the library book, but in all honesty, that wasn’t the main reason for her bad mood.
“The guy across the hall from me. His name is Everett. I ran into him when I went to see the first snow sculpture—you know, the one that I assumed was AI? Anyway, we’ve been spending time together ever since. ”
“‘Spending time together.’” Aimee used air quotes.
“We went to see the other snow sculptures.”
“That sounds very cute,” Aimee said. “Wholesome. I can’t believe you actually saw them all.”
“Yes. Well.”
“I’m glad you’re enjoying the season, rather than punishing yourself with a second job.”
“I wasn’t punishing myself,” Nora said. “I was making back the money I’d lost.”
“But I suspect that wasn’t the only reason, and I was afraid you’d get a retail job again this December, even though you’ve earned back all the money. Instead, you’re seeing Everett.” Aimee’s voice was gentle. “What happened with him?”
Nora didn’t mention the time he’d collapsed in the hallway. “We made out on Sunday. It was…well, it was good. Then he complimented me.”
“Was there something wrong with the compliment?”
“No. I just…” Nora looked down at the giant ice cube in her drink. “I freaked out and left. Because suddenly…I couldn’t help wondering what he wanted from me. How he might try to manipulate me.”
“Nora…” Aimee reached over and patted her shoulder.
“He hasn’t done anything to warrant that response. He’s been sweet and not at all pushy, but I haven’t known him that long. Like, I’ve lived across from him for two years, but we barely spoke until this month, and I’m a terrible judge of character.”
“One mistake doesn’t make you a terrible judge of character.”
“But that was one very big mistake!” She couldn’t forgive herself for falling for a scam. Her, of all people. Even in the midst of her grief, she should have known better. “Anyway, Everett’s not like him, but I can’t help worrying. I…”
She trailed off as “We Wish You a Merry Christmas” started playing. She hated this song.
“Right,” she said. “What was I saying? Oh yes, it was the first time I’d made out with someone since Samuel, and Samuel—if that was even his real name—was always very complimentary.
Overly so, in retrospect. I thought he’d just fallen hard, but of course, that wasn’t the case.
It was silly to believe someone could genuinely say those things about me. ”
“Well, first of all, that’s not true. You’re hot. Plus, you’re kind and supportive and adorably bad-tempered.”
Nora snorted.
“So, Everett paid you a single compliment while you were making out…”
“And I couldn’t trust it. Yeah.” Nora shook her head. “I don’t know what I was thinking. I swore I wouldn’t get involved with anyone again, and here I am.”
“Did you really think you’d swear it off forever?”
“Yes,” Nora said. “I did. But he was like…thawing my soul, or some such nonsense. I wanted things that I hadn’t wanted in a long time.”
Which was what had gotten her into trouble two and a half years ago, that craving for a connection. Loneliness could be a dangerous feeling; she should have known better than to act on it.
“Physical things?” Aimee asked. “Or other things?”
Nora froze—but in a different way from the other night.
Her friend had made a good point. Nora had been thinking of sex and romance as intertwined because that was how it had always worked for her in the past.
But why did it have to be that way? Maybe she and Everett could just have something physical.
She could have a little fun and get it out of her system.
It wasn’t completely risk-free, but she’d make sure that Aimee knew where she was.
There was nothing wrong with having a few orgasms that weren’t thanks to her vibrator or her fingers.
She could keep those high barriers around her heart firmly in place.
If Everett complimented her again—though he might be afraid to do so—she’d assume his motive was to get in her pants. Something she wanted as well.
“You’re right.” Nora downed the rest of her drink. “Some no-strings-attached sex will do me good.”
“Is that what you want?” Aimee asked. “Or—”
“Yes,” Nora said. “It is.”