So I do the only thing I can think of and pull my rain jacket off, tossing it on the floor on top of her rainy clothes. I add my sweatshirt and the t-shirt underneath to the pile, and then I sink to the floor across from her, tugging the blankets from her grasp. She wipes her face again, quick toerase any evidence that she broke. Even if it was only for a second.
She watches me with raised eyebrows, only gasping in surprise when I grab her hips and pull her into my lap, her legs falling easily to either side of me.
And fuck, I thought she was cold before.
Now that she’s pressed up against my chest, I feel likeI’mgoing hypothermic.
“Christ, why are you so hot?” she asks, pushing away from me.
“Because you’re dangerously cold,” I say, pulling the blankets over her shoulders and leaning back against her kitchen wall. I run my hands along her back to create some heat from friction and gently press her face into my neck.
She needs every inch of warmth she can get.
“It’s not cold enough to bedangerouslycold.”
I shake my head. “It is if you’re drenched.”
She grumbles but doesn’t try to move away, and after a few moments, she relaxes into me.
“My whole body feels like it’s on fire,” she mumbles into my neck.
“I know. If it’s any consolation, mine feels like I just entered the North Pole.”
She moves like she’s going to sit up and glare at me, but I tighten my arms around her, keeping her pressed against my chest.
When she nestles her face further into my skin, I let my arms drop, my clasped hands resting easily on her lower back. I press my cheek against her head, squeezing her face in the crook of my shoulder, and her body curls tighter around me.
We sit like that for a few minutes, limbs intertwined on her kitchen floor, and I get used to the feeling of her on topof me. The pressure of her body on mine and the way she sniffles into my neck every so often. My body relaxes, and as if my hands have a mind of their own, I gently run them across her skin. Her back, where her crop top is still wet and sticking to her skin. Her waist, which—if I’m not just feeling what I want to feel—is getting warmer one degree at a time. I run them along her thighs and her shins, still freezing from the cold, and rest them on her icicle feet.
And after a few minutes, she lifts her head. “I’m fucking freezing,” she admits.
“There she is,” I say, relieved that she’s at least making progress.
With a nod, I lift her off me, turning her slightly and positioning her on the floor between my legs. I wrap my arms around her and pull her tight into my chest, making sure the blanket is up around her neck.
“How are you so warm?” she asks, wiping her red nose with the back of her hand.
“I was wearing three layers and my raincoat apparently functions significantly better than yours.”
She hums. “My raincoat is technically a windbreaker. So, that might have something to do with it.”
“Evie,” I scold.
“It looks like the same material! They should have a disclaimer or something if it’s not waterproof.”
“You mean like calling it a wind breaker instead of a raincoat?”
She’s quiet for a second. “Be nice to me, I’m cold.”
I tug her down into my chest again and squeeze. Push the wet hair from her face and pull her closer. I rest my chin on the top of her head, and after a few moments of sitting like that, brush my lips over her forehead.
And I pretend like it doesn’t send a little shiver down myspine when she presses in closer like that was just what she needed.
I run my fingers along her back absentmindedly, the stress of taking care of a human ice cube slowly subsiding with every second we sit like this together.
I’m trying to warmherup, but something about this is really helpingme.
She sniffles again, and my attention goes back to our current situation.
