Page 31 of Snowed In on Valentine's Day

I moistened my lips as I felt my breath quicken, for reasons totally unclear. It wasn’t like this meantanything. But he was being uncharacteristically nice, thinking about my needs. It was definitely attractive. Finally, I nodded and moved over, cutting the distance in half.

He furrowed his brows. “You’ll need to come closer if you want to be comfortable. Squinting is bad for your eyes.” At my nervous glance at the space between us, he added in an amused tone, “I’m not going to make a move on you.”

“I-I wasn’t worried about that.”

And that was the truth. I knew he’d never make a move on me. He disliked me, a lot. Maybe hate was too strong a word, but he certainly wasn’t interested in me either … which was good. Because I had no interest in him.

None at all.

But I found it difficult to swallow as I closed the distance, leaving only two inches between us, at most. This was just weird because we didn’t like each other and, well, I honestly couldn’t remember the last time I curled up on the couch with a guy to watch a movie. At least three or four years, probably more. Although I’d had an active dating life before my recent break—OK, fine, maybe Iwasa serial dater—I rarely brought guys back to my apartment. I usually went home with the guy, not the other way around. And we weren’t watching movies. That was more of a couple thing, which my dates had rarely progressed to.

Paying attention to the movie was difficult as I was concentrating so hard on trying to be casual about sitting close to him without actually touching him. It would be far more comfortable, physically at least, to lean against his side rather than to hold myself up rigidly beside him, but I had to avoid touching him. Otherwise, he’d likely recoil in horror, and I … well, I didn’t want to think about that.

Eventually, my attention shifted from this awkward situation to the one playing out on the screen. The parallels between the two were uncomfortable, to say the least, but eventually I got lost in the story, as per usual for romantic movies. When the couple in the movie tried unsuccessfully to dig the woman’s car out of the snow and ended up buried in a snowbank themselves, I found myself laughing almost to the point of tears. As my laughs faded and the couple’s antics on screen turned into an almost kiss, Peter made a noise. It sounded like laughter, but he must have been clearing his throat. I raised an eyebrow and quickly turned back to the small screen.

But I glanced at him every so often, and if I didn’t know better, I’d almost say he wasenjoyingthe movie. But that didn’t seem possible because he wassonot the romantic type. True to form, a look of disdain had crossed his face when I merely mentioned my love of rom-coms.

But then I saw it.

One corner of his mouth rose a bit and—wow, was he smiling? Almost smiling?

My eyes widened, and I must have made a sound because he turned to me with a questioning look.

“What?”

“I saw—never mind. Nothing,” I said quickly, my eyes flickering between him and the tablet.

He raised an eyebrow but merely turned forward again toward the screen. Meanwhile, my gaze stayed on him. Studyinghis face, I noticed tiny fine lines between his brows, like many men our age, but I didn’t see any lines around his mouth or eyes. I felt a pang in my chest when I realized what this meant: the man didn’t smile often.

He turned to find me staring again, and I coughed and averted my eyes, though I knew I’d been caught.

“Are you all right, Hazel?”

“I’m fine. Ah—” I croaked. “I mean, it’s a great movie, right? Sometimes I get emotional.” And that was true, yet the man next to me was suddenly more riveting than this movie.

His forehead was creased as he gazed at me. “Can I get you some water? Or maybe a hot drink?”

I shook my head. “I’m fine,” I managed to say.

No, no, I was not.

I didn’t want him to start being nice.

Hecould notstart being nice.

Because I could easily fall for a guy like that.

Chapter 10

As I stirred awake, I assumed my head slipped off my pillow because the surface beneath it was hard and unyielding.

But it was warm here, and the heavy blanket draped over my shoulder squeezed me like the coziest hug.

I moved my head again, trying to get more comfortable, and when that didn’t work, I decided to tilt the pillow a bit.

“Oof!”

I froze, my eyes flying open and my brain trying valiantly to keep up. What on earth—where was I sleeping?

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