Page 39 of Our Little Cliche
Normal?
What about this isnormal?
Me:
Okay.
Iunenthusiastically put my day-old clothes back on, and as I leave the room the hall sconces lead the way since it’s pitch black outside. They’re warm toned, soft and moody. When I reach the living room, loose Christmas decorations take up the space over the floor, including a gigantic,realChristmas tree that’s covered inactualsnow, and?—
Oh, no.
Oh, no, no, no. My worst nightmare stares right back at me by the archway between the kitchen and living area…in sweatpants.
Graysweatpants.
Cyrus’s lush brown hair appears slightly damp on the ends, the dry sections being fluffy and buoyant on the top of his head. He’s sporting a plain black t-shirt, that’s pulling tightly over his body… hisrippedbody. I mean, I knew he was big, but his clothes had been very modest until now. My breath quivers at the sight of him, followed by a tight gulp struggling down my throat. Not that it budges the lump of nerves.
“What is this?” I ask, waving my hand at all the Christmas ornaments, and the tree—that has a wet trail behind it, leading to the kitchen door.He’s been outside? How?
“Well, you said that you wanted normal. I can’t offer much given the circumstances and I don’t know what they do in Australia for Christmas, but I thought bringing a tree in from outside, and pulling out the decorations might make you feel a little better. Lesstrapped.”
“You went outside?”
If he can go outside, then so can I. And how will I get home, huh? No Uber will come and get me, the roads will be shut now.My mind drifts, picturing him chopping down a tree… with his biceps on display all flexing and veiny, and shit. Lugging a big ol’ tree from all the way out there in here. It’s doing something to the lower half of my body I tell you.
Ok, nope.
Abort, abort. Mayday, mayday.
“Yes. I did. To get you a nice tree to decorate.”
“Does this mean I can go home now?” I inch towards the front door, even though I know the answer, completely ignoring that he has just done one of the sweetest things anyone has ever done for me in my entire life. “And for the record, I don’t feel trapped. I’m actuallykindof glad that I’m here…”
“Wait, you are?” His curious tone has me assuming he thinks I meant something else.No, not because of you.
“I’ve never experienced a snow storm before, so at least I’m not alone. And I’m safe.”
He shoves his hands into his pockets before pulling them back out again and running his fingers through his hair. My eyebrows hurt from frowning so much at him. “Oh, right.”
“So, if you can go out there, then I can go home?” I repeat the question, reaching for the handle and open it.
“You could. Butfor the record…” Cyrus does that thing that steals my breath: leans his presence into mine, making the world around me stop. He doesn’t touch me. He’s not even close enough for me to feel the heat of his skin radiating, not like last time. Then, with one swift movement the door closes and he retreats. “I’m not letting you step even your pinky toe outside that door until everything calms down out there. It’s too dangerous.”
I’m not letting you.
Why does that excite me?
“But—”
“No buts, Miss Cate,” he says, and my mind shifts to the same empty state as before. “I can’t have you risking your life. How about decorating the house in Christmas cheer to brighten your night?”
At this point, I have to accept my fate that this is turning out to be like every other god damn, cliché Christmas Hallmark movie and book that exists on the planet.
I am NOT going to fall in love with my boss!
“Fine.” My stomach rumbles again. Now I know why my reactions are so snarly—I haven’t eaten.
“Why don’t you sift through that stuff and have at it? Decorate the place to your liking. It’s yours for the next… however long we’re stuck in here.” He turns on his heels and starts walking away.
