Our snow-fort is constructed with a rectangular two man tent, with a tarp over the top of it and staked into the ground around the edges of the tent. We took some firewood that I had cut already and made a border around the entire tent, minus the door. After that we packed as much snow over the tarp as possible, letting the fire wood help keep the snow from sliding all the way off.
It looks like a tragic mess just waiting to fall apart the moment we get inside, but so far it’s surprisingly holding up. And it was a blast to make with her. We had so many failed attempts in the process, and most of them ended in laughter, and a few snow ball fights until we got it right.
Phoebe decided that she wanted to make a whole shebang out of this camping in the wilderness thing, so while we were at Walmart she grabbed skewer sticks, hot dogs, and bread dough. Hence, the pigs in a blanket skewer.
I can’t stop looking at her. Her red hair looks like brushed copper in the firelight, and her cheeks are flushed red, either from the cold or from the heat coming off the fire. She’s got a pair of purple earmuffs on, and she’s wearing my Braves sweatshirt, which is huge on her. Her sweater got soaked during one of our many snowball fights so I let her borrow that one while hers is in the dryer.
I’d be lying if I said I didn’t think her wearing my clothing wasn’t a giant damn turn on. I don’t know how I’m going to sleep next to her all night. I’ve already had to talk myself down multiple times today…if you know what I mean.
“Pass me that plate,” she motions towards the box of camping supplies I brought out of the shed. “Please,” she adds in quickly.
I fish one of the plates out of the box and hand it to her, and she expertly removes the food from both skewers onto the plate.
“When’s the last time you camped?” I ask her.
She lays the skewer sticks in the snow and grabs one of the hotdogs from the plate, blowing on it before biting into it. The moan that comes out of her mouth makes me almost drop the plate.
How am I supposed to lay next to this woman all night, knowing she makes noises like that?
She covers her mouth with her hand before she answers. “I haven’t camped since high school.”
I raise an eyebrow in surprise. “And you just remembered how to make a perfect pig in a blanket years later?”
“Oh I make these at home all the time. I have one of those metal fire pits on my patio because I cannot survive long without a good s’more,” she laughs loudly from behind her hand. “But don’t tell anyone, my landlord would throw a fit if he knew I was making fires out there all the time. There’s nothing like curling up by the fire with a good thriller book and a plate of food cooked over the fire.”
“I can’t say I’ve tried any of that, but it sounds nice.” I take a bite of my food and I look at her in surprise before swallowing. “Phoebe, this is delicious. I promise not to say a word to your landlord, if you promise to make me these for the rest of my life.”
The smile fades from her face, and she stares into the fire in silence as we finish eating. Somehow I am cursed to always say the wrong things to her. She doesn’t say anything as she stands and holds her hand out to me, I reach up slowly, confused and place my hand in hers.
She giggles, breaking the strained silence from moments before. “No dummy, give me your plate. I don’t want to leave them out here incase of bears or whatever else wanders around in the night sniffing out food.”
Just call me Mr. Dumbass, because I sure know how to make an ass out of myself in front of her.
I pull my hand out of hers and hand her my plate. She looks back at me and smiles before she goes through the front door.
Maybe my big mouth hasn’t ruined the night after all.
A few minutes later Phoebe comes out of the house with our two mugs from earlier clutched in her hands. As she gets closer, I see that there is a mound of marshmallows atop both mugs. She hands me the snowman mug and takes a seat next to me on the wooden log I placed in front of the bonfire for us.
“I hope you like hot chocolate,” she says and holds her mug out to toast. “I figured this is the perfect night for some since we will be freezing our asses off here soon.” I can’t tear my eyes away from her as she sticks her tongue out and grabs one of the marshmallows with it, bringing it back to her mouth to eat it. She repeats this several times before I realize that I’m staring at her like some sort of creepazoid again.
My marshmallows have melted enough, so I can easily take a sip, and when I do I taste the familiar shock of cinnamon whiskey sliding down my throat. Like the idiot it am, I start coughing up a lung in front of her, as she bursts into laughter.
“I’m sorry! I should have warned you, but I really, really wanted to see your face when you drank it.” She snorts into her hand and kicks her feet like a child, which makes me forgive her for the whiskey assault.
“Phoebe Andrews, are you trying to get me drunk?” I raise an eyebrow and give her a sultry look, sipping my hot chocolate again as she catches her breath from laughing so hard.
She takes a deep drink of hers, and then turns her body towards me. I’m instantly alert, and my palms start to sweat, because I know this is the moment. The moment where she finally asks why I pulled away from her last night. I’ve been dreading this talk ever since we got paired up this morning as partners for this task.
Fuck, I really wish I would have talked to Piper before all this.
She’s biting her lower lip again, and it makes her look entirely too vulnerable. “Look,” she says as she runs her free hand over her face. “I know this is about to burst this happy little bubble we’ve pretended to be in all day, but I can’t hold this in any longer.”
I nod at her, then chug the rest of my drink. The warmth from the whiskey spreads through my chest, calming me slightly. I guess I’m about to wing this shit because I can’t let her feel like this any longer, but I can’t tell her the full truth.
Half truths, and real feelings will have to do.
She follows suit, and downs the rest of her drink, shuddering hard once her cup is empty. “I sort of wish I would have just brought the bottle out, because I’m going to need a bit more courage to get all this out.” She starts to stand, and I wave my hand to stop her.
