“Yeah, the whole county government shut down,” I say, slipping my bookmark into place to mark my page.
“This explains why it’s practically a tundra in here.God, and it’s worse by the window.”An exaggerated shiver runs down his spine, and he pulls his blanket tighter around his shoulders.“I already regret getting out of bed.”
I let out a short laugh because I really can’t help it.
“Are you laughing at me?”he asks incredulously.
“No,” I say, fighting a grin.Except I am.It’s just that he really is adorable, all bundled in his comforter and looking mildly disgruntled.
It’s something I’ve been noticing more lately—that Parker is adorable—although I’ve been trying not to.I definitely can’t find him adorable.Or cute.Or just attractive in general.The last thing I need is to develop feelings for my roommate.My straight roommate.My best friend, really, which is a little strange when I think about it.
We’ve only known each other well for eight months, not considering the handful of times I’d met him when I lived with his sister.That’s probably too soon to consider someone a best friend.I’ve known Amy for eight years, but it wasn’t until we moved in together after grad school that I started to consider her my best friend.Yet somehow, in less than a year, Parker has managed to steal that title.He is easily the most important person in my life, the person who makes me feel the safest.I felt that way even before we started this cuddle arrangement.But after spending most nights over the past two weeks in his arms, the usual lines of friendship have gotten a little… blurry.Which is a problem.
Because again, I’m not supposed to feel this way about my straight roommate-slash-best friend.
But then he huffs and shuffles his way over to the couch, plopping down right next to me, and any thoughts about problems are replaced with warm affection.
“Rude.I bet you won’t be laughing when you have to explain to my sister that I turned into an icicle,” he grumbles, although the sentiment is undercut by the way he snuggles into my side.
I laugh again, setting my book down on the arm of the couch, then readjust my blanket so it covers his lap.“You aren’t going to turn into an icicle.It isn’t that cold.”
“Says the human furnace.How are you so warm?”he asks, pulling my blanket up to cover his shoulders too.
I shrug.“I’ve always run warm.”
“Well, not all of us are as fortunate,” he deadpans.“I think I’m going to need about a thousand blankets if I’m going to make it through the day—oh!”
I cock my head at his sudden exclamation.
“I know what we should do with our snow day,” he says, sitting up and turning to face me with a grin.
“What?”
“We should make a blanket fort,” he says proudly.
“Aren’t we a little old for a blanket fort?”I ask skeptically.
“You’re never too old for a blanket fort,” he argues playfully.“Besides, doesn’t cuddling up in a fort for a movie marathon sound like the perfect way to spend a snow day?”
Two weeks ago, I might have said no—at least to the cuddling part.But the idea of spending the day completely blocked off from the world by walls of blankets, with Parker curled into my side like he was a moment ago, does sound like a perfect day.
So I smile and nod.“Okay, let’s build a blanket fort.”
It takes about forty minutes to put together, but thanks to the collection of patchwork quilts from the chest at the foot of my bed—all made by my grandma—we make a pretty decent blanket fort in the middle of our living room.Every couch cushion and pillow we own is spread across the floor inside the fort, forming a plushy nest.Parker even pulled down a strand of battery-powered string lights from our Christmas decorations so we’d have some soft lighting.It’s not a spacious fort by any means, especially once two fully grown men are sitting inside of it.But it’s cozy.
I’d almost call it romantic, but I immediately squash that thought down.
“Okay, what do you want to watch?”Parker asks as he unlocks his laptop, which is balanced on a tin of tri-flavor popcorn acting as a makeshift table.
“You can pick,” I say as I make myself comfortable against the mountain of cushions.
“Would you judge me if I said I wanted to watch Hallmark movies?”
I wouldn’t say I’d ever seek out a Hallmark movie on my own, but I’d also be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy them on some guilty-pleasure sort of level.I watched so many of them when I lived with Amy that I now have a soft spot for them.I’m guessing Parker enjoys them for the same reason.
“Only if you pick a Christmas one,” I tease.
He glances over his shoulder and sticks out his tongue.“No, apparently there’s an entire collection of non-Christmas-y winter-themed ones.”
