Chapter SixteenMicahOctober 19 #2
“Life is too short to waste time being upset,” I say, curling into a tighter ball.
“My mom died when I was little, and I don’t know if I’m predisposed to get the same kind of cancer that she had.
Honestly, I’m too scared to find out. But I do know that I am going to spend whatever time I have being as happy as I can be because that’s so much better than living scared and frustrated.
Even when things are terrible, there’s always some sort of silver lining, and that’s what I want to focus on. ”
Fischer’s fingers, which had grown still while I spoke, slowly tuck some hair behind my ear before feathering across my cheek and leaving a trail of fire in their wake.
I’ve never had anyone touch me with such deliberation, and my stomach twists with each new point of contact, like every touch sends a signal to a part of me I didn’t know existed.
I’ve never felt this before, and I’m almost too scared to put a name to this feeling.
“You should sleep,” Fischer says as he brushes his fingers across my forehead.
For some reason, that triggers my eyes to close, and that sends a wave of exhaustion through me.
I don’t think I’ve ever been this tired in my life, not even with cheerleading competitions, but I don’t want to waste what little time I have with Fischer.
“Will you tell me about your childhood?” I ask him, though my words are just a mumble.
He takes a slow breath. “What do you want to know?”
Anything. Everything. But I’m asleep before I can tell him.
***
October 19
When I wake, the lights have turned back on and golden sunlight glows from the windows.
Dull murmurs fill the room from those who have woken already, but everything is generally muted.
Maybe that’s because I’m still exhausted, but maybe it’s because everyone has figured out that they’re okay.
At least, I’m assuming everyone is okay.
I don’t want to move to find out.
I’m still in the exact same place I was last night, which means Fischer fell asleep sitting up.
I turn my head to see his head hanging, dark circles more pronounced than ever.
Why didn’t he move me? Even if he didn’t want to sleep next to me, he should have moved my head off his lap and freed himself to go somewhere else. He must be exhausted.
Sitting up slowly, I twist around and place the pillow on the ground, and then I take hold of his shoulders. He’s going to be heavier than I would like, but maybe I can lower him slowly enough that he doesn’t wake before I have him settled.
Halfway to the ground, his eyes fly open, and he jerks away from my touch.
But he’s still falling, so he reaches out to catch himself, catching me instead and knocking me backward until we’re both on the ground and he’s flush against me.
He landed on his elbows, so his shoulders are raised up a bit, which means our faces are close together but not touching.
As my heart races, I hold my breath. So does he.
Fire burns through me, making me wonder if steam is rising from my face, but Fischer is staring at me so intently that I can’t move or breathe or think about anything except what it would feel like to kiss him.
Does Fischer even like kissing? It took so long for him to admit that he likes holding my hand, but kissing is a whole other story.
Besides, if he kissed me, it would mean he wants more than a friendship with a deadline.
Do I want that? There was nothing romantic about our first meeting.
I didn’t feel butterflies when I first saw him.
I haven’t even thought about dating him until now!
Not seriously, anyway. None of those are signs of any sort of romance blossoming between us.
Where were the fireworks? The tingling nerve endings? The gut feeling that we’re meant to be?
Still, when he doesn’t move, I reach up and brush my fingers across the stubble on his jaw, wondering what it would feel like against my cheek.
I haven’t kissed a guy with facial hair before, and while this hardly counts as a beard, it’s more than anything I’ve experienced before.
Would it make his lips that much softer?
Of its own accord, my tongue brushes over my lips, and Fischer tenses.
“Price!”
“Micah!”
Lila and Grant shout at almost the same time, and Fischer scrambles off of me in a tangle of limbs as we both struggle to get up.
He’s on his feet first and grabbing Grant, pulling him into the kitchen, which leaves me to stumble out and try to make myself look presentable in front of Lila.
My hair is probably a mess, and I can imagine the things she’s going to assume after seeing Fischer and me come out of the same place.
“I’m here,” I say breathlessly, hurrying to her side.
Thankfully, Lila has her eyes closed and her hands pressed to her temples. “What is going on, Micah? Who are all these people?”
How do I spin this so she doesn’t get mad at me?
“Um, you weren’t feeling well yesterday,” I say as gently as I can.
“And a storm came in, so we got stuck here, and there was a bus that got stuck in the snow. You and Grant were nice enough to let everyone stay here so they didn’t freeze to death out in the storm. ”
Lila peeks her eyes open, squinting as she takes in the room again. “I don’t remember… That does sound like me. Do we have any food?”
I cringe. “Unfortunately, no.”
“So you expect me to starve?”
“There might be some coffee somewhere?”
Someone clears their throat, and I look over at a woman whose name I forgot.
Though everyone in the lobby is pretending not to pay attention, I can tell most of them woke up when Grant and Lila shouted and they’re absolutely listening in on this conversation.
The woman holds out a granola bar, which I take with a grateful smile.
“This is all we’ve got,” I tell Lila, holding it out to her.
She stares at it for a second and then turns her glare to me. “Do you know how much sugar is in that garbage? You know I need protein in the mornings.” She groans and rubs her temples. “And now we’ve wasted all this time. I expect you to work this weekend to make up for—”
“The plans are all drawn up,” I say, wishing I hadn’t left my laptop in the kitchen so I could show her.
And though I hate letting her take credit for everything when she decided to show up to the lodge completely drunk, I know it’s the only way she’ll let me have a break over the weekend. “You got it all planned out yesterday.”
Lila opens one eye. “I did? I mean, of course I did. But there’s the matter of getting this mess cleaned up.”
“Fischer will call in a cleaning crew.” At least, I hope he will.
Frowning, Lila looks around the room as if searching for another reason to make me work today and tomorrow. “Find me some coffee,” she says eventually. “And get me out of this hellhole.”
The storm may have stopped, but I doubt the roads are any better than they were yesterday. “We’ll need to wait for the roads to clear unless we want to end up stranded in the middle of nowhere,” I say.
Lila groans. “Fine. Then I’m going back to bed. Wake me when I can leave.”
How in the world can she sleep even more than she already has? But I’m not going to question it if she’s willing to let me handle everything without her looming over me like some vulture. As soon as she’s out of sight, I can breathe again, and that doesn’t bode well for a good workday on Monday.
“Thanks,” I tell the woman as I return her granola bar.
“I think you need a new job,” she replies with a wince.
Unfortunately, I’m starting to think she’s right, but that’s more terrifying than anything.
Event planning is the one thing I’ve loved more than anything else I’ve tried, and I have put so much time into Ember, hoping to make it onto the planning team.
If I leave Lila and start over somewhere new, does that mean I’ll be starting at the bottom again?
I can only be so optimistic when my years might be limited, and I can’t bear the thought that the last two years might have been for nothing.
By the time Fischer escapes the kitchen with a fuming Grant, who returns directly to his room, I’ve managed to convince a few people to help me put the couches back where they belong and get all of the bedding to the wash.
We’ll probably still need a cleaning crew, but at least the place looks moderately presentable.
“Everything okay?” I ask him.
He grunts and crouches in front of the nearest fireplace to take out the batteries.
“I’m going to take that as a no.”
Rolling the batteries in his palm, Fischer gazes at them for a moment before he gestures for me to follow him to the windows so we can speak privately. “At the moment, he’s trying to come up with ways to sue anyone who doesn’t pay full price for the night.”
I gasp. “Seriously? But we can’t charge anyone! Especially not those who slept on the floor.”
“Trust me, I know. But there’s no reasoning with Grant when he’s hungover. I’m hoping I can convince him to drop it altogether. Or maybe get everyone out of here before he wakes up again.”
“That second option sounds like the better one,” I say with a little grin. “And here I was thinking we could have Grant give them all a discount code so they can come back after the lodge is open.”
Fischer’s eyebrows rise high. “That’s a good idea.”
“I’m full of those, surprisingly.”
He takes my hand, pulling me close enough that he can touch his forehead to mine. That’s a new one, and it steals the breath from my lungs. “There’s no surprise about it,” he says in a low voice.
There’s no way he sees me as just a friend. Right? I mean, this guy spent the first week and a half of knowing me avoiding my touch altogether, so it’s not like he’s just a touchy-feely kind of guy. This has to mean something, and I wish I understood it better so I could know how to respond.
“Do you think your brother made it through the storm okay?” Fischer asks after a long while of standing there. He pulls away, though he keeps a firm hold on my hand.
I swallow, torn between wanting to be close to him again and the sudden desperation to make sure Chad is okay. “I don’t know. My phone died, remember?”
He holds out his own. “There’s still a little battery left.”
I snort. “You think I have any phone numbers memorized? I grew up without a landline, Fischer.”
“Ah, right. I forget you’re a baby.” Though he rolls his eyes, a new expression enters his face, like he really did forget how much younger than him I am. Seven years isn’t anything crazy, but it’s enough that we probably had very different childhoods. “Do you have a charger?”
I shake my head. “I’m lucky I remembered to pack my laptop cord, honestly.” And since he has a different kind of phone from me, I doubt Fischer can help me.
Still, he looks around the lobby with a determined glint in his dark eyes. “Be right back,” he says and then walks off, leaving me on my own.
In the ten minutes that he’s gone, I make a list to organize everyone having the chance to take a warm shower if they want it.
It will mean having to clean all the towels, but I’m sure it will help everyone feel less like refugees.
Hopefully there’s enough hot water for everyone all at once, but I’m still so tired from yesterday that I find it hard to care.
Plus, I’m anxiously waiting for my chance to check in on Chad and make sure he and his lady friend made it through the storm intact.
Once I’ve told everyone in the lobby about the shower plan, I make my way back to the window and gaze out at the glittering snow.
This storm caused a lot of problems for how short it was, but the aftermath is exceedingly beautiful.
The sun catches all of the ice crystals in the best way, and I can picture my mom standing here with the forest beyond as her backdrop.
She and Dad got married in June, so it wouldn’t have been snowy, but it must have been magical nonetheless.
“Hey.” Fischer comes up beside me, a mug of coffee in one hand and a phone charger in the other. While both of those things are a welcome sight, I’m a little distracted by the smear of red on his cheek, suspiciously in the shape of a couple of lips.
“Uh.” I take the coffee first—I assume it’s for me—and then I point at his mouth.
His eyes go wide and he wipes the heel of his hand across his skin. “It’s not what it looks like.”
“It looks like someone gave you their phone charger in exchange for a kiss.”
“Okay, maybe it’s exactly what it looks like. I noticed Alice has the same phone as you, but she wasn’t eager to give up her charger.” He shudders. “It’s the right kind, right? Please tell me it’s the right one.”
Though tempted to tell him it isn’t, I’m more interested in getting my phone back on so I can see if Chad has fallen in love yet. “It’s the right one,” I tell him. And then, though I probably shouldn’t, I lean up on my toes and kiss the cheek that isn’t already tainted by lipstick.
I expect Fischer to tense up, but instead his hand cups my elbow and he closes his eyes like he’s so affected by my kiss that he loses what’s left of his hard and gruff exterior.
Now I’m more convinced than ever that he feels something just like I do.
That doesn’t mean anything will happen, but maybe it can?
Fischer breathes in slowly, as if he’s taking in the moment however he can. Then he takes a step back and breaks our connection. “I’m going to see how quickly the roads can be cleared,” he mutters and walks away without a word.
Why is this man so difficult to read?