With that, she strains to raise her head, then manages to bash her cold fish lips down onto mine.She drags her lips away, long strands of damp hair trailing over my eyes and nose, just before she collapses onto my chest again.
I don’t know how much time goes by, but I spend it staring up at the dark ceiling.
Monitoring her breathing.
“Are you awake?”
She moans.
Keeping tabs on her heartbeat.
“Don’t fall asleep.”
“Mmm’kay.”
And waiting for her shaking to lessen.
“Talk to me, Phoebe.”
“Ugh.”
All the while, every millimeter of her naked flesh is pressed up against me.
Everywhere.
No more daylight penetrates the cracks in the roof.Any light still left has been smothered in the unrelenting snowfall.A few stray snowflakes shake loose and flutter down and they swirl around us.
My phone battery’s dying.
I need to get moving.I’ve got shit to do.
Set up a light source.Get a fire going.Take inventory of whatever supplies we have.Get up on the roof and figure out a way to remove some of the accumulating snow, because if I don’t, the weight of it will take us out.
Also, I need to decide what to do about that kiss.
I feel myself smile.
That was the worst fucking kiss I’ve ever had.
It was also the sweetest.
By a mile.
CHAPTER 18
Phoebe
I fight to open my eyes.When I finally succeed, I’m baffled.
Where am I?
I try to sit up, but that’s not happening.My arms are like strands of overcooked spaghetti.My head is a hundred-pound concrete block.
I look down at myself.I’m wrapped in blankets I don’t recognize, stretched out on an old ranch-style sofa I’ve never seen before.The sofa’s close to a fire that’s burning in a stone fireplace I’m not familiar with.
I pat the top of my pounding head.A wool beanie cap has been yanked down on my forehead.I don’t own a hat like this.My head is propped on a wadded-up shirt balanced on one of the sofa’s wooden arms.
I grab it.The shirt’s not mine, either.It’s a man’s shirt.
