“No, I need a minute.”
She begins to walk toward the trees.
“Noelle, I don’t think you should—” I cut off when she gives me a deadly side-eye.
Noelle continues walking. She doesn’t storm off or create a scene; she just leaves.
NOELLE
What the hell is his problem? This morning, my baby brother called, and since then, Roman has been acting like a jackass.
I lift my leg higher as it’s becoming hard to walk in the snow. You don’t see me acting like a fool after Tessa’s woe-is-me-I-am-a-damsel-in-distress routine.
I watched him as he fixed her shoe and smiled up at her ass. Did I act like a whole jackass? No, despite me wanting to go and ram the shoe up her ass.
Maybe I am getting my feelings too involved. It’s not like he is in a relationship with me. I should head back and talk to Roman. We need to set some boundaries.
The snowflake drops gently on my nose. I raise my palm up to catch more snowflakes.
“It’s snowing,” I whisper while admiring the sky as snowflakes descend around me.
Snow is so beautiful and yet brutal. I should head back. Then I look around. All the trees look the same. How far did I venture? And why wasn’t I paying attention?
Looking back, I can’t see my tracks. Girl, which direction did you come from?
“Left!” I shout. I was wrong; left was nowhere near the lodge. Just more majestic trees, dusted with snow.
The snow was coming down fast.
“Hello!” I scream. No answer.
I take my cellphone out. Of course there are no bars out here. It’s so typical. I roll my eyes.
If it wasn’t left, then I should go right. I pull my beanie down over my ears.
“Hello!” I shout again. No one answers, and then I feel it. A dark dread entering my stomach.
No one is here. Does this forest have wolves? Or bears? No bears should be hibernating, right? “Lions, tigers, and bears, oh my. At least there are no tigers or lions…just bears,” I say out loud, snickering at my silliness.
I continue walking to God knows where.
My stomach twists, and I stop because I wanna pee. I chortle when I think about my predicament.
I can see it now. “News at 6: Rum Heiress Found on Ice.” Or “Spirit Heiress Found Dead. She Was Frozen, Not Stirred.”
If my granny could see me now, she would say, “But yah is a jackass. You from the Caribbean, and you want to go frolicking in de snow.”
The movies make snow look so pretty and romantic. They forget to mention the subtle cold breeze that comes with it. Each time the air moves around me, I tighten my arms.
At least I am wearing my hot pink insulated suit. If I die, they can see my ass from a distance.
“It’s too cold for these damn shenanigans,” I mumble.
I feel like I am being watched. Please, God, I don’t want to die by the jaws of a wolf. Forget the wolf, what about a serial killer? I have seen enough true crime shows; people are crazy. The wind picks up, and the snow descends faster.
I can feel eyes on me. Maybe it’s paranoia. Right? Nothing lives out here.
My foot connects with something that feels like a root, and I fall face first into the snow. I roll over and huff. This is Roman’s fault. If he were nicer, I wouldn’t be lost in this Narnia-looking forest.
