Page 6 of Spoil
We eat in comfortable silence at first. Both of us killed a couple hundred calories skiing, so we’re both starving.
When she slows down, she watches out the window wistfully.
“How did you become an instructor?”
I chuckle. It’s a sad story.
“I was in college to become a CPA.”
“CPA?”
“An accountant.”
She nods.
“And then my sister died.”
Green eyes find mine, and two lines form between her eyebrows.
We shed our coats, gloves, and helmets when we sat down, so when she reaches her hand out to cover mine, I revel in the touch of warm skin. Before she can pull away, I flip my hand and interlace my fingers with hers.
“I’m so sorry that happened.”
I nod at the familiar sentiment. “She was still in high school. She’d been sick. Sleeping more than normal, depressed, not eating. Our parents brushed it off as ‘typical teenage shit’,” I say sarcastically, using finger air quotes. I shake my head to clear it as that familiar anger seeps back in.
“One day, she collapsed at school and was taken to the hospital in an ambulance. By the time my parents got there, she had been diagnosed with leukemia. She never woke up.” My jaw clenches as I bite back my emotions. “I loved my little sister. She was my best friend. And I was so pissed at my parents for not noticing something was wrong. And pissed at her for not causing more of a fuss.” My voice catches as I feel my bottom eyelid getting damp. Fuck, I don’t want to cry in front of her. I’m supposed to be the easy-going one, right? The fun, flirty one?
But she squeezes my hand, and I take it to mean that she can see me, and I can let myself be vulnerable. I swipe at a stray tear.“So, I did what I thought would piss them off and became a ski bum.” I force a smile back onto my face.
I search her face for any reaction, but all I see is indecision. And then it clears. She stands up, and I just watch her, helpless, as she comes around our table and stands next to me, hand still holding mine. She tugs my hand up, and it takes me a second to realize she wants me to stand.
So, I do.
She’s so small, standing this close to me, and without her big, fluffy jacket. And then she’s wrapping her arms around me. She’s hugging me. She rests her head on my sternum and holds me. I give a disbelieving half-chuckle, but wrap my arms around her shoulders, too, leaning down slightly. And in the middle of this noisy, bustling lodge with a couple of hundred people, it’s just me and her. Just two people, vulnerable and caring enough to hold each other.
God, I didn’t know I needed this. I don’t think I’ve been hugged since the funeral. Manly back pats, sure. A hand on the shoulder in sympathy. But never just held. I let out a deep sigh as I bring my cheek to her hair.
After what feels like a second, and also a lifetime, she leans back, looking up at me. “I’m sorry. I just thought you could use a hug.”
Her arms are still around my waist, like she’s not quite ready to let go.
“Thank you. I did.”
We retake our seats and regard each other with soft smiles, before her eyes drop to my soup.
“Do you want some?” I offer quickly. I know soup doesn’t repay kindness, but maybe it’s an easy way to move on from our emotionally charged moment.
She twists her lips to the side like she’s been caught. “I thought the burger would be the best since I was so hungry, but that soup looks amazing.”
“Here, come here,” I say, reaching around the table to pull her closer to me by the leg of her chair. She squeals in surprise and grabs the sides of her chair like she’s going to fall off of it.
“You’ve got to try it with the grilled cheese,” I say, dipping the corner of my grilled cheese into the tomato soup and then bringing it directly to her mouth. I hold one hand underneath to catch any drips.
Her eyes widen in surprise, but she opens her mouth dutifully. And it’s a fucking mistake.
Because in the next three seconds, I’m hard as a rock.
Her plump lips open. I get a flash of white teeth digging into bread, and then she closes her eyes and moans. Christ. Yes. I need to hear that again.
