Snowed in for Christmas

Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

Benjamin

“SHIT,” I HISS AS the whole house goes dark.

I jerk away from Jett and flick off the stove. It’s electric, so we’re completely screwed there, but I don’t want it coming back on unexpectedly.

“So much for dinner,” Jett says.

It’s so dark I can barely see him. He’s just another block of darkness, like the stove or the refrigerator. A moment ago, he was so real, so solid, his fingers laced through mine, his lips tilting toward me as though…

“We should find candles,” I say.

I pull out my phone and turn on the flashlight. The harsh light slashes through the darkened kitchen. I take the excuse to bustle away, diving into the deeper darkness of the pantry in search of anything that might help us. Out in the kitchen, I hear Jett doing likewise.

I breathe a little easier as he rustles around through cabinets and cupboards. I crouch in the pantry, but it’s not because I believe I’ll find anything useful among the cleaning supplies on the floor. My heart beats too hard. My breath comes too quickly. I’m somehow both shivering and sweating. Worst of all, I know it’s because of Jett. He wasn’t really going to kiss me, was he? No, there’s no way. He was probably messing with me. He was likely leaning in to see how I’d react. Whether I’d frozen or leaned in, he would have turned it into a joke at my expense.

But he sure looked and sounded serious.

He wasn’t laughing when he leaned in. He wasn’t joking when he told me he wanted to help. I know shithead partyboy Jett, and that wasn’t him. The guy standing with me at the stove, the guy who made me that strange spicy drink, he was a more mature, more serious, more earnest man than the Jett I know.

“Found something,” he calls from the kitchen.

I almost slam my head on a shelf in my rush to get back on my feet. When I enter the kitchen, Jett has spread several items out on the island. He found some tea candles, as well as matches and a lighter.

“They aren’t great,” Jett says, “but there’s a ton of them. We can put them in cups and carry them around.”

“That should work,” I say.

I didn’t really hear his suggestion. I should be worrying about the fact that we have no power and no way to know when it’ll return, but all I can think about is his hand resting atop mine.

We start lighting candles and setting them in cups. It allows us to turn off our phones and conserve our batteries a little bit longer. Eventually, all our little candles sit in cups on the kitchen island like fireflies waiting to take flight.

“When do you think it’ll come back?” Jett says.

“Hard to say. Could be a couple hours. Could be a couple days.”

I expect a blowup or a tantrum of some sort, but Jett simply nods at this news. Seriously, what happened out there in the snow? Did I bring some sort of doppelganger home instead of the real Jett?

“What happens if it takes days instead of hours?” Jett asks.

I sigh at the prospect. “Well, we couldn’t use the stove. Shower and toilet probably will only last a few more hours. I guess we’ll have to eat whatever doesn’t require cooking and try to keep warm until it comes back. I wouldn’t use your phone much, if you can help it. We can’t get out and we have no way of knowing how long this will last, so we should keep our batteries alive as long as we can.”

Again, I brace for an explosion, and again Jett surprises me by staying calm.

“Good thing I already took that long bath, huh?” he says.

He laughs, but the amber brown of his eyes is liquid and warm in the candlelight, like tree sap caught in sunlight. Those eyes challenge me to remember those moments in the tub, the way I had to undress him, the way I had to help him into the water.

I jerk away from the counter, hoping the dark hides my stumble. I grab two of our makeshift candle holders and start backing away.

“I should shower while the water still works,” I say.

I don’t wait for a response. I head out of the kitchen and pound my way up the stairs as quickly as I can. I set both candles in the bathroom and strip, but the water is lukewarm when I turn it on, and it probably won’t last long. If it even turns on tomorrow, it’ll be colder, so I scrub as thoroughly as I can while I still have the chance. Hopefully this outage will only last the night, but if it goes on much longer than that, things could get pretty uncomfortable.

I can’t linger, but the shower still helps calm down whatever is swirling around my head. I towel off, and immediately regret not bringing my clothes with me into the bathroom. It’s a chilly walk from the bathroom to my bedroom, and even worse than that, candlelight glows in Jett’s open room, so I know he’s up here as well. Disaster looms around every corner as I skitter toward my bedroom. If he were to pop out and catch me in nothing but a towel, I’m not sure how I’d react.

Thankfully, I make it to my room unobserved. I hastily nudge the door shut behind me, but my hands are full with the candles, so I don’t manage to shut it all the way. Still, I breathe a little easier when I make it into the dark bedroom by myself. I rush around, digging for any clean clothing I can find. It’s difficult navigating in the dark, and the chill seeping into the house doesn’t improve matters. By morning, we’ll be able to see our breath in here. The cold could quickly pose a serious threat. I didn’t see any logs stacked by the fireplace, but with any luck we’ll find some in the backyard. Otherwise, we might need to burn newspapers or something just for warmth.

Things will be better in the morning, I tell myself. Hell, the power could be on by then. We’ll have to bundle up and tough out this one night, though even with sheets and blankets we might wake up shivering with how cold it is out there. With that dire thought in mind, I throw on an extra pair of socks.

A soft tap at my door interrupts my worrying. I startle upright to find Jett poking his head in.

“Hey,” he says.

“Everything alright?”

“Yeah, totally, I just…” He casts his gaze down, and my stomach flips over. I’ve never seen him less than brazen, and this is downright bashful. “I was thinking,” he eventually continues, “it’s going to get really cold tonight, right?”

“Yes, it could. I’d recommend sleeping in any extra clothes you have.”

“That’s a good idea. But, um, maybe it would make more sense for us to share body heat, you know?”

It takes several seconds longer than it should for the implications to sink into my dense skull. When they do, all I say is, “Oh.”

“We don’t have to,” Jett says in a rush, “but it seems logical. I mean, this place is already getting chilly. It’ll be freezing by morning. My bed is smaller, so I thought…”

He lets me fill in the blanks. The two of us sharing the bottom bunk would certainly make for a tight squeeze. We couldn’t help touching each other if we slept that way. It would be warm, but at what cost? I’ve never shared a bed with anyone in my life, and some part of me can’t help wondering if Jett is talking about more than simply keeping warm. Is that possible? A day ago he couldn’t stand me. Now he might have just propositioned me.

My head is spinning. Jett pushes the door open a little wider and creeps inside. He holds a candle in a cup in one hand, but he uses his free hand to take me by the wrist.

“Come on, Ben,” he says. “It’s been a long day. Let’s go get warm.”

He isn’t pulling. He isn’t demanding. There’s no mirth in his gaze or his tone. This is, undeniably, the real Jett, and he’s surprisingly soft, surprisingly gentle as he waits nervously for my response.

“Well, if it’s to keep warm,” I say.

A smile twitches on his lips. I can tell he’s holding it back, but that implies my response left him giddy and that is simply too strange to consider.

I leave my candles behind as Jett tows me to his room. He sets his candle among the others flickering on the dresser. They cast a sedate, warm glow through the room. Jett tugs me to the bed, and we settle on the edge, both of us hunching to fit under the top bunk.

Jett shuffles back, the sheets unnaturally loud as he scoots all the way to the wall the bunk bed sits against. He gives me as much space as possible, but when I slip under the sheets and lie on my side, I’m so close our noses nearly touch.

“Warm?” he says.

We’ve only just gotten under the covers, but I find that I am, indeed, warm. Far too warm. I don’t think it has anything to do with the sheets.

I hear his hand moving, then it settles on my hip. Jett doesn’t grab or pull, just rubs his thumb over my sweatpants. Even separated by the thick fabric, my body tingles from his touch.

I swallow so hard he can probably hear it. Then he’s leaning in again, like he did in the kitchen.

This time, however, there’s nothing to stop us.

My eyes flutter shut when his lips meet mine. I’ve never done this, and I have no idea what I was expecting, but what I get is warmth, a warmth that seeps right down into my bones. For someone who’s always been so hard, so loud, so brash, Jett’s lips are incredibly soft. They leech the tension and confusion out of me. I could be falling, even as I lie here in bed.

Jett tries to get closer, but my glasses interfere. He pulls away to pluck them off. He folds them up with surprising care, then leans over me to set them on the floor. The motion drapes his entire body over mine. He overwhelms the shuddering breath I draw. My mind flashes back to the bath and the muscle corded along his shoulders, and I nearly reach up for him. Then he settles back down on his side, facing me with a smile.

He cups my face this time, his thumb stroking over my cheek as he draws me back to his mouth. And I go. I go so, so easily, melting against him as he pulls me in. I don’t know what happened to him today, and this could be a cruel act just to get some action while he has no other choice, but the longer he kisses me, the further my suspicions retreat, until they fade entirely beneath the pounding of my heart in my ears.

Jett breaks the kiss. He’s breathing harder. His hand starts sliding down my body, over my chest, along my ribs, down my side, onto my hip.

“Wait,” I gasp before he can go lower.

He stops immediately, confusion crossing his face. I should explain, but the words get stuck in my mouth. Shame burns inside me before I can utter a word. I take a shaky breath and prepare to admit my secret to a person I hated when I woke up this morning.

“I, um, I’ve actually never done this before.”