Page 10 of The Cabin

How quickly my opinion on being looked at in the showers has changed. Joanna will also have something to say about that. That is, if I ever start telling her things.

After throwing on a flannel and leggings (surprise of the century), I grab Grayson’s bottle of wine and the package of Cosmic Brownies I bought, ready to eat real food and give some apologies of my own. It would be really freaking nice to have a friend while I was up here, and so far, I’m doing a bad job of making one.

I make my way over the creek, juggling the wine, brownies, and flashlight, only flinching once at the sound of a serial killer for sure hiding in the shadows waiting to chop me up into pieces. He definitely finds me undesirable, though, because I make it in one piece, stepping onto Grayson’s now hole-free porch and pausing in front of the door. Deep breath. I am fine, this is fine.

Chapter 5

I raise my hand to knock on the freshly painted blue door, but Grayson opens it before my knuckles touch the wood.

“Hey, thanks for coming!” His face looks so inviting. I put my hand back down, not wanting to look like a moron fist pumping the air.

“I can’t believe I could pencil you in. I’m insanely busy these days,” I counter, stepping over the threshold and taking in the space. Wow. It’s absolutely gorgeous. Exactly the kind of cozy cabin getaway you would picture in your mind. He’d done all this in four days?

“Is that wine you brought? You shouldn’t have!” he teases, taking the bottle before doing a double take.

“And Cosmic Brownies? Really pulling out the big guns, aren’t you?” He grabs the box in his other hand, making his way to the kitchen area where several pots are steaming.

“Anything to help out a friend.” My tone is dry, but I’m hardly paying attention to our banter, slightly stunned by the work he’s accomplished. I mean, he has real, tangible proof that he’s done something worthwhile since being here. As for me, on the other hand, I’ve had two mood swings just today and I took a three-hour-long depression nap.

“Do you want a glass?”

“Yes, please.” I move to the fluffy couch in front of the fireplace.

He brings two glasses over, handing me one, and taking a sip out of the other. Sinking into the couch, he raises his glass to mine.

“Cheers to friendly neighbors who are really forgiving.” His grin is a bit embarrassed as I clink my cup with his. We’re quiet for a moment, and I immediately start to panic. Why did I think it was a good idea to agree to spend hours alone with this man? What would we even have to talk about? He’s going to think I’m so weird and socially awkward. God, Sol, how do you get yourself into these situations?

I take a really large gulp of my drink.

“I really am sorry about today, Sol. I just –”

“Grayson, it’s totally fine. I was a complete bitch to you today. Let’s call it even,” I interrupt, waving my glass dismissively.

“You weren’t a bit-”

“Grayson. Even.”

“Yeah, alright, okay, even.” We both turn our attention back to the wine.

Silence.

“The place looks amazing.”

He grins appreciatively. “Thanks, it’s definitely got a long way to go.”

“You’ve become quite the lumberjack,” I quip and he lets out a short bark of a laugh but says nothing.

More silence. Another long gulp.

A timer goes off near the stove.Gracias a Dios.

“That’ll be the potatoes. Dinner should be done in a few. Just gotta make the salad.”

“Can I help?” I ask, standing up to follow him.

“Yeah, sure, everything you need should be in the fridge.”

Grayson starts mashing potatoes while I dig through the fridge for salad ingredients, grateful for something to do. We work in silence, often brushing against each other trying to grab some utensil or other in the small area between the island and the stove. Every time he touches me my breath stops. It is so obvious how rock-hard his muscles are that I find myself taking more and more sips of wine just to give myself a chance to pull it together. Before I know it, I’ve been through two pours and am working on my third.

---