Snowed in for Christmas

Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Jett

CLEAN MOUNTAIN AIR. Birds tittering in the trees. The gurgling of a distant stream.

God, this place sucks.

I scowl as I take in the quaint nature crowding in around me. I yank my bag out of the backseat of my car and throw it over my chest before the scent of all that green can nauseate me. What do people do around here? There’s nothing but trees for miles around. I bet they hike or something horrifically mountain-y like that. How they don’t all go insane is beyond me. Maybe they do. Maybe no one but hill people dare live in a place this dedicated to being boring.

I shake my head and start for the door before I can think too hard about it. There’s another car in the driveway, which means he is already here. I’m sure he rushed in to claim the best bedroom in the house. I’m tempted to beat down the scrawny nerd and simply claim it for myself, but if Mom shows up and finds Benjamin with a black eye I’ll be in endless shit. I promised her I’d be on my best behavior for this one week.

Of course, my “best behavior” is another man’s bender. Everything is relative, after all. Even dear, old science nerd future bro would have to agree with that.

I enter the house and wrinkle my nose all over again. It smells like pine needles and wood. Jesus, is there nowhere I can escape this shit?

I rummage around in the kitchen and find it stocked. I grab an apple from the fridge and munch on it as I head upstairs to check out the bedroom situation.

One door stands closed. Of course. I scoff at it, then head to the other bedroom.

“Bunk beds?” I shout, not caring if the dickhead in the other bedroom hears me or not. “You have got to be kidding.”

I dump my bag on the floor and storm to the other bedroom, nearly crushing the apple in my hand into pulp. I throw open the door without knocking to find Benny bent over a desk with a bunch of textbooks scattered around him.

“Hey, asshole, what the hell?” I say.

He regards me mildly, his amber eyes flat behind his glasses. “Excuse you.”

“No, excuse you , dickhead. Why the hell am I stuck with bunk beds while you get all this?”

I wave at the bedroom, which includes a freaking reading chair by the window, not to mention a full-sized bed.

“I arrived first,” Benjamin says. “I chose a bedroom first.”

He shrugs as though that settles the matter, but that’s where he’s very, very wrong. I clutch the apple harder, my painted black nails digging into the soft flesh.

“You’re smaller,” I say. “Why should you get the bigger bed?”

“We are nearly the same size. I’m not going to take a smaller bed because of an inch or two of height.”

“Um, first of all, it’s at least three inches, and second, you weigh, what, a hundred pounds soaking wet? You don’t need all that bed.”

He rises from the desk, but it only serves to prove my point. In his mild sweater and jeans, the guy looks like he could blow over in a breeze. He crosses his arms over his chest.

“I’m sure I spend more time outside engaged in physical activity than you,” he says. “You shouldn’t get a better bed just because you can’t curb your Cheetos addiction.”

I slap my chest. “This is pure muscle, I’ll have you know.”

Okay, that might not be entirely true, but I’m definitely more built than Benjamin. I mean, come on. The guy was studying when I barged in here. We don’t even have classes and he was studying . Not that that’s any different from how he’s always been. We first crossed paths because we go to the same college back in Denver. We instantly disliked each other, but fate conspired to place us in the same block of freshmen dorms. Every time I tried to be a normal college kid having a normal fun time with my youth, Benjamin called God damn campus security on me. The number of violations I racked up because of his meddling nearly got me expelled. Now, Mom is saying if I can’t get along with the guy for the next week, she’ll stop helping me pay for school.

And here he is not even giving me a freaking decent bedroom.

“I am not sleeping on a bunk bed for a week,” I snarl.

Benjamin shrugs his perfect little straight-A shoulders. “There may be a pull-out bed in the couch.”

I clench my teeth, threatening to grind them into powder as rage boils up inside me. Suddenly, I’m storming toward him without even meaning to. For the first time, Benjamin’s cool facade cracks, a flicker of fear widening his eyes as he backs away from me. He hits the window beside the cozy reading chair and the glass halts his retreat.

I raise my hand on instinct, and Benjamin’s fear tightens into something different. He isn’t looking at my enraged face anymore. His eyes flicker to my hand and the apple I’m attempting to either crush into paste or use as a blunt instrument.

“Where did you get that?” he asks, suspicion thick in his voice.

“The fridge. What the hell do you care?”

“Idiot,” he says, shoving me. I’m surprised enough to stumble back a step. “I just bought those groceries and you’re wasting them.”

“I’m not wasting anything. I’m eating it.”

“Eating it, or bludgeoning me over the head with it?”

“Either way, not a waste.”

Ben scrunches up his face in anger, which is kinda cute in a way. I mean, what is this little nerd going to do to me? Recite tree facts until I’m so bored I beg for death?

But then he lunges for the apple in my hand. Startled, I step back, but I’m off-balance. Benjamin stomps toward me, grabbing my wrist and twisting. I yank in response, trying to break free, but he holds fast, surprisingly strong. I hit a wall, and Benjamin pulls my arm up and pins it above my head. He’s closer than he was before, his face bright with anger. His eyes are liquid with rage, warm as honey as he glares furiously at me.

I should not find that hot. I don’t find that hot. My body is just confused because I’m trapped in the middle of nowhere with my Mom’s boyfriend’s uptight jerk of a kid. There is nothing hot about how close he is to me. There’s nothing hot about him pinning me against a wall. This guy is the antithesis of hot and sexy. When he enters a room, fun runs screaming in the opposite direction. He’s the ultimate narc, the consummate buzzkill. This abrupt show of strength and aggression is definitely not going right to my dick.

“Give it back,” Benjamin snarls.

“One, I already ate part of it,” I say, “and two, it’s just an apple. Chill.”

“If we get trapped here—”

“We aren’t getting trapped here,” I say. “And even if we do, do you really think our lives will hang on a single apple?”

“We could find ourselves with limited food supplies.”

I roll my eyes. “You are so freaking paranoid. It’s not like we can’t go into town if we need to.”

“You aren’t listening. No one is listening.”

His frustration boils over. With a growl, he shoves me against the wall before releasing me. Ben paces his spacious bedroom, hands on his hips as he stomps to the bed and then back to me.

“Look,” he says, “we’re stuck together for the next week. It’s going to be miserable, but it’ll be a lot less miserable if we call a truce.”

“A truce?”

“That’s right. A truce. Right here and now. Don’t mess with my stuff. I won’t mess with yours. Stay out of my way, I stay out of yours. Simple.”

“I notice you get to keep the good bedroom in this truce,” I remark.

He huffs a sigh. “I’m barely going to leave it. I’m sure you’ll find ways to entertain yourself elsewhere.” At my scowl, he continues. “But I’ll owe you a meal or something.”

“A meal?”

“A drink. Whatever you want. We’ll even the score. Okay?”

I shouldn’t take the deal. I shouldn’t capitulate to this joy killer. Maybe my brain is still scrambled from that moment against the wall, but all I really want right now is to get out of here.

“Fine,” I say, but I take a huge bite of the apple to piss him off as I do.

I catch a satisfying glimpse of his perpetual scowl as I saunter out of the room.

I return to my depressing bunk bed room. It’s not that bad, I guess. Besides the beds, there’s an empty bureau in one corner. I put my duffel on top of it. A window lets in the weak sunlight, but I throw the heavy blinds closed and flop onto the bottom bunk with my phone and my half-eaten apple. Now that Benjamin is out of view, the fruit isn’t as exciting anymore, so I let it drop to the carpeted floor and resolve to worry about it later. Then I begin searching.

There must be something in this stupid resort town. Anything. Sure, people come here for skiing, but they must like to drink and party afterward. But as I search, I come up frustratingly empty. There are bars, but they look like the type of places middle-aged couples go to have a “night out” during their fancy, expensive vacations. Maybe Mom and Paul will have fun there, but I sure as shit won’t.

I groan. This place can’t be as dull as I fear. No place can be this dull. It’s simply not possible.

I text Ryan, my friend and roommate back on campus.

Hey, man, have you ever been to Stone Valley?

The ski resort? he responds.

Yeah, I’m stuck here for a whole week. Is there anything to do around here?

lol probably not. It’s a place where old people go skiing.

There’s gotta be a club or something. I’ve been sneaking into clubs since I was eighteen (thank you, fake IDs). I can’t remember the last time I went an entire week without some kind of outing.

Bro, you’re in the boonies fr. There’s no clubs. You better put on your hiking boots.

My heart sinks. It’s one thing to know intellectually that I’ll be stuck in the woods for a week. It’s another thing to face the hard, cold, boring reality. I’m really trapped here with nothing to do. No bars. No clubs. No parties. My friends are back in Denver. The only people I’m likely to encounter for the next week are my mom, her boyfriend and the worst potential future step-brother on the freaking planet. I’ll be not only bored and sober, but celibate.

“Oh my God, I’m actually going to die,” I say to the wooden frame of the bunk bed over my head.

This can’t be real. It must be a nightmare. My mom and her dumb boyfriend are stranding me in hell so we can pretend at being a family. I don’t care if they go through with getting married some day. This will never be my family. Ben will never be my family.

The second I can get out of here and forget all about him, I’m speeding way and not looking back.

I search some more, determined to wriggle my way out of this. There must be a way back across that pass sooner rather than later. I simply have to find it.