Chapter 8 #2
“Of course, of course. I’m just thinking of you, dear.” She handed Maya the keys. “Monsters and humans can make it work here, certainly. But it takes time, understanding. Rushing into things can lead to complications.”
Maya took the keys without a word, her face carefully blank. “Thank you for your help.”
We left the office, and I felt her withdraw slightly as we stepped onto the street.
People were out doing their shopping, and I saw heads turn as we passed.
A few people called out greetings to me, mostly my search and rescue teammates, the owner of the gaming store, and Seraphina from the coffeeshop.
“Geoff! Glad you made it through the storm okay!”
“Hey man, heard you pulled off another rescue. Nice work!”
“Is that the girl you saved? Lucky lady!”
Every greeting was friendly, congratulatory even. But I noticed the looks that followed. Curious, assessing, sometimes concerned. And every single one of them studied Maya like she was a problem to be solved.
“Everyone’s very friendly,” Maya said, her voice low.
“They mean well.”
“I’m sure they do.”
We stopped by the general store for groceries, and that’s where things got worse.
Pauline, who ran the register, was a harpy with a tendency toward gossip.
She took one look at us, at our body language, at the way I kept touching Maya unconsciously, and her eyes lit up.
She’d have some juicy details to spread around town today.
Maya and I would be the talk of the town for a while.
“Well, well, Geoff. This must be your houseguest.” Pauline rang up our items with exaggerated slowness. “Word around town is you’ve been keeping each other company during the storm.”
“Word should mind its own business,” I said flatly.
“Oh, come on. You know I don’t mean anything by it! It’s only a bit surprising, that’s all. You’ve always been so private. And now here you are with a human girl, all cozy-like, when you’ve barely known her a week.”
“Three years,” Maya corrected, her voice tight. “We’ve known each other for three years.”
“Online, yes, I heard. That’s not quite the same as really knowing someone though, is it?
” Janet bagged the groceries with unnecessary force.
“I just hope you're being careful, honey. Geoff is a sweetheart, don’t get me wrong, but Yeti bonds are intense. You wouldn’t want to lead him on if you’re not serious. ”
I saw Maya’s jaw clench. “I’m serious.”
“After four days?” Pauline continued.
“After three years,” I interjected. “Pauline, ring us up. Please.”
The total was astronomical. In my haste to leave the store, I’d gone overboard on supplies, but I paid without comment and ushered Maya toward the door.
“Geoff, wait!” It was Tom, one of my search and rescue teammates, a grizzly bear shifter with a good heart but terrible timing.
“Hey man, I wanted to congratulate you on the rescue. Heard it was a close call.” He looked at Maya with genuine warmth.
“You’re lucky he found you. Geoff’s saved more lives than anyone else on the team. ”
“I know,” Maya said, managing a smile. “I’m very grateful. Luck seemed to be on my side for once.”
“And now you two are,” Tom made a vague gesture between us.
“Together,” I said firmly. “We’re together.”
“Huh. Fast work.” Tom’s expression flickered with something like concern. “Be careful, yeah? You know how you get with attachments.”
“Tom.” My voice held a warning.
“I’m just saying, you barely know her in person. And humans can be, well, that’s my problem from my last experience.” He trailed off, clearly realizing he was stepping in it. “I’m sure she’s great. I don’t want to see you get hurt.”
“I appreciate your concern,” I said through gritted teeth. “We’re fine.”
We made it to the truck before Maya’s composure cracked. She climbed in silently, staring straight ahead, her hands clenched in her lap. A lone tear rolled down her cheek.
“Maya.”
“Can we just go? Please?”
I started the truck, pulling out of town faster than I should have. The tension in the cab was suffocating. After a few minutes, I couldn’t take it anymore.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “They shouldn’t have,” I sighed. “They were inappropriate.”
“They’re worried about you. I get it.”
“Doesn’t make it okay.”
“No, but I understand it.” She finally looked at me, and there were more tears in her eyes that she was clearly fighting.
“They think I’m using you. Or that I don’t understand what I’m getting into.
Or that I’m going to break your heart when I realize this was just a fun vacation fling with a Yeti. ”
“That’s not,” I began.
“Isn’t it? To them, that's exactly what it looks like. Human girl crashes her car, gets rescued by the nice local Yeti, sleeps with him because she’s grateful or curious or has ‘bang a monster’ on her bucket list or whatever, then moves on once she’s settled.
” Her voice was shaking. “And they’re protective of you.
Which is actually really sweet, even if it makes me want to crawl into a hole. ”
I pulled the truck over to the side of the road, putting it in park. “Maya, look at me.”
She did, reluctantly.
“I don’t care what they think. I don’t care if it looks fast or crazy or inappropriate. You’re not using me. You’re not going to break my heart. And this is not a fling.” I reached over, cupping her face. “You’re it for me. I told you that. I meant it.” I kissed her lips softly.
“I know you did. But everyone else…”
“Will figure it out when they see us together. When they realize this is real and permanent and not going anywhere.” I wiped away a tear that had escaped down her cheek.
“It’s going to take time. People are going to have opinions.
That’s unavoidable in a small town. But we know the truth - the truth about us and our relationship. That’s what matters.”
“Is it enough?”
The question hit me hard. “Is what enough?”
“Knowing the truth, just us. When everyone else is watching and judging and waiting for me to mess up?”
I thought about my cabin, about the bubble we’d built there. About how easy it had been when it was just us, no outside pressure, no concerned friends, no gossip.
“Let’s go home,” I said.
“Geoff.”
“Let’s go home. Back to the cabin. We can deal with the rest of it later. Right now, I just want to take you somewhere you feel safe."
Her expression softened. “Home?”
“If that’s what you want to call it.”
“Yeah,” she said quietly. “That’s what I want to call it.”
We drove back up the mountain in silence, but it was a different kind of silence than before. Maya’s hand found mine on the console, holding tight. By the time we pulled up to the cabin, some of the tension had eased from her shoulders.
“Thank you,” she said as I carried the groceries inside. “For understanding. For not being mad that I couldn’t handle an hour in town.”
“You handled it fine. Better than fine, even. You were polite when I wanted to start throwing people through windows.” I placed the groceries on the counter. “And I’m not mad. I’m protective. There’s a difference.”
“Very protective,” she echoed, a small smile playing on her lips.
“You’re mine,” I reminded her. “Of course I'm protective.”
I brought her suitcases in from the truck, setting them in the living room. The cosplay one was on top, the Phoenix Con tag visible.
Maya noticed it immediately and groaned. “You couldn’t have left that one in the truck?”
"You promised I could see."
"I made no such promise. You assumed."
“Maya.” I sat on the couch, patting the space beside me. “Please? I’ve had a rough day. Seeing my girlfriend in elaborate costumes would really cheer me up.”
She tried to fight her smile and failed. “Girlfriend?”
“Is that okay? Should I have asked first? We never actually discussed labels.”
“No, it's perfect. I like hearing you say it.” She sighed dramatically. “Fine. But you have to promise, again, not to laugh.”
“I promise not to laugh.”
“Let me see your fingers. Gotta make sure you’re not crossing them.”
I raised my hands. “Not crossing them. I won’t laugh.”
“Fine.” She rolled her eyes and dragged the suitcase to the guest room, muttering about pushy Yetis and lack of boundaries. I grinned, settling in to wait.
Ten minutes later, she called out. “You ready?”
“Whenever you are.”
A few heartbeats later, she emerged.
I forgot how to breathe.
She was wearing armor, intricately crafted leather and metal pieces that covered her torso, arms, and legs.
The design was incredible, clearly taking inspiration from dark fantasy with phoenix motifs worked into the details.
Her hair was pulled back, making her look fierce and capable and absolutely stunning.
“Remember the one game we were obsessed with last year?” I nodded. “This is my dark warrior,” she said, doing a small turn. Her cheeks were pink. “I wore it to the last convention I went to. Took me almost eight months to make all the pieces.”
“Maya.” I couldn’t form full sentences. “That’s stunning. You made that?”
“Yeah. The armor plates are EVA foam with a thermoplastic coating, painted and weathered. The leather is real. I did the tooling myself. And the chainmail is aluminum at the top, and 3D printed in silver colored PLA because real steel is too heavy.” She was rambling now, nervous. “I know it’s nerdy.”
“It’s incredible. You’re so talented.” I stood, moving closer to examine the details. Every piece was perfect, the craftsmanship obvious even to my untrained eye. “You made all of this?”
“Well, yeah. That’s kind of the point of cosplay. Making the costume is half the fun.”
“This isn’t a costume. This is art.” I touched one of the armor plates gently. “Can you move in it okay?”
“Oh yeah, full range of motion. Watch.” She demonstrated, bending, reaching, even doing a practice sword draw with an imaginary weapon.
The movement was fluid and natural, and watching her move in armor she’d crafted herself was doing things to me. She looked powerful. Dangerous. Mine.
“What are you thinking?” she asked, catching my expression.
“I’m thinking you’re the most amazing person I’ve ever met.” I moved closer. “And that you look incredibly hot in armor.”
“Yeah?”
“Extremely yeah.”
She bit her lip, a gesture I’d come to recognize as her being nervous but interested. “I have other costumes too. If you want to see them.”
“Maya, I want to see everything. Every costume, every creation, every side of you.” I pulled her close, careful not to damage the armor. “But right now, I’m very interested in figuring out how this comes off.”
Her eyes darkened. “It’s actually pretty complicated. Lots of buckles and straps.”
“I’m a patient man.”
“Are you though?”
“For you? Absolutely.”
She laughed, the sound light enough to fill the room. “Okay. Help me out of this, and then maybe I’ll show you the other costumes.”
“Only show me? No fashion show?”
“Well.” She walked backwards toward my bedroom, pulling me with her. “We’ll see where the evening goes.”
Where the evening went was exactly where I hoped it would.
Maya modeled three more costumes. The first was a mage with intricate robes, then a steampunk inventor with goggles and gears, and the last was a warrior priestess with flowing fabrics.
Each one was more impressive than the last, and each one ended up on my bedroom floor.
Later, much later, we lay tangled in my bed again, the cosplay pieces scattered around the room like colorful debris.
“I can't believe I let you talk me into that,” Maya said, but she was smiling. “Bringing my cosplay suitcase instead of my clothes.”
“It was an honest mistake.”
“You knew exactly what you were doing.”
“Maybe.” I kissed her temple. “But you enjoyed it.”
“I did.” She traced patterns on my chest, her touch light and soothing. “Thank you. For today. For taking me home when it got too much.”
“Always. Anytime you need to escape, we come home.”
“Home," she repeated softly. “I like that."
“Good. Because this is your home too, for as long as you want it to be.”
She looked up at me, her expression serious. “What if I want it to be permanent?”
My heart stuttered. “Maya.”
“I know, I know. Too fast. We should take things slow. I should spend time in my apartment, establish my independence, not move in with you after four days.” She buried her face in my chest. “But it feels right. Being here with you feels like home in a way nowhere else ever has.”
I held her tighter, my Yeti instincts singing with satisfaction. “Then stay. Tonight, tomorrow, as long as you want. We’ll figure out the rest as we go.”
“What about your space? Your solitude? I don’t want to impose.”
“Maya.” I tilted her face up to look at me. “You're not imposing. You’re making this place feel like a real home instead of just a house I hide in. I love having you here. I love waking up with you and cooking with you and watching you game in my shirts. I love all of it.”
“Even when I take over your bathroom with all my stuff?”
“Especially then.”
She kissed me, soft and sweet and full of promise. "Okay. I’ll stay. But we have to go into town one more time tomorrow. I need to go to the lease office.”
“For what?”
“I had an idea, but I need to ask Margaret something.”
“Want to talk it over?”
“Not yet. I’m still formulating the plan.”
Desperate as I was to ask, I knew her well enough she wouldn’t share unless she was ready to. “Do you want me to take you to your apartment tonight?”
“No,” she said, “not tonight. Tonight, I’m home.”
Outside, the sun was setting over the mountain, painting the snow in shades of orange and pink. The town and its gossip and its concerned looks felt very far away.
Up here, in our bubble, it was just us.
And that was more than enough.