CORALINE
“Oh, is that your girlfriend?” I ask. “I thought you said you live alone?” My brows knit together as I turn my attention toward the door. The knob twists slowly.
He clenches his jaw and mirrors my gaze. His jaw flexes at a woman wearing the same sweater he wore yesterday, stumbling in, flushed, with messy bed hair. She’s not wearing any pants. Her long, fair legs stride toward Gavin. She’s barefoot with red-painted toenails.
As soon as she gets to him, she tiptoes, balancing herself on her feet so she can press her lips against his cheek. The woman is beautiful, tall, and radiates a glowing aura. He pulls away from her slowly and gently, apparently uncomfortable. He takes another long step as his lips thin. Her light green eyes light up when she looks my direction with flushed cheeks.
“Oh! She’s awake,” she says as she shifts behind Gavin, trying to make herself smaller. “I’m sorry, I thought you were still asleep. I’m Georgia.” She waves her hand from side to side nervously.
Who is she to Gavin?
Who else has he failed to mention?
“It’s alright,” I say. “Do you live here?”
She parts her mouth, but Gavin cuts in.
“I’m going to sleep,” he grumbles, flexing his jaw. “Georgia was just leaving.” He tilts his head toward the opposite side of the room.
“I wanted to say my last goodbye before I head out.” She looks up at him, her long lashes dancing as she blinks. “I have to go before sunrise…unless you’ve changed your mind? I can hole up here with you until the morning.” She grabs his hand, pleading with him. “Before she wakes up.” Her tone pleads as her eyes glimmer and dance with lust.
Before who wakes up? Should I leave the room so they can have it to themselves? Georgia clearly has no shame in throwing herself at him in front of me. I shift around the bed, gripping the blankets, trying to look busy to give them privacy.
He continues to look through her, not a word comes out of his clenched jaw as the snow falls hard behind them. Tall trees line up through the window, battering against each other with the strong winds—not a single building in sight. Only mountains. Not another neighboring cabin nearby. He really is in the middle of nowhere, Alaska.
There’s an awkward audience of one sitting three feet away from her as she waits for his response.
He shakes his head once.
“You want me to leave? Right now?” She pouts, and he deadpans. He's emotionless, but the way he grabs the door to haul her out of my room tells me a lot. I don’t think Georgia is his girlfriend.
When he shuts the door, I keep my eyes locked on the beautiful view outside. We don’t have mountains in central Texas, and every time I gaze at the Alaska scenery, I’m in awe of its beauty. I settle deeper into the blankets, covering my legs and abdomen, still trembling from how cold I am.
Rolling my head left and right across the pillow, I toss andturn in bed and shut my eyes, listening to my new white noise—the blizzard winds. Then, I hear Georgia curse. Then curse again and again. I lose count after ten times. She’s pissed because she wants to stay.
Is he really making her leave? I thought the roads were closed?
I hear her yell at him some more, loud footsteps thud away, and then she slams a door.
Who are these people?
The last thingI remember from last night is Georgia slamming the door after being rejected during a very awkward conversation between her and Gavin. There has to be history there with the way she reacted.
Stretching my arms, I look to my right and see a massive figure on the couch.
It’s Gavin, asleep on his side. His head rests on a pillow, and his chest rises and falls slowly.
He stayed the night in the same room?
Did he do it because I told him I didn't want to be alone?
He’s…shirtless. His muscular back is to me, and I can’t help but track every dip in his muscles. He’s physically fit. Why is he sleeping without a shirt? It feels like we’re snowed in the middle of the Tundra.
He has five intensely pink, aged scars that go down from his shoulder to his lower back, almost like slashes. A beautiful, detailed skull with a spider starts from his shoulder blades and ends at his lower back. Then there’s a quote tatted alongside his ribs that makes its way toward his back in Gothic font. I try to read it, but then someone rings the doorbell, making me gasp, and I palm my mouth to stifle the scream in the base of my throat. Gavin stirs slowly, and I watch his back muscles taut, butthen they relax as he shuffles. His legs slide out from the cushions, and he plants them onto the ground, while he bows his head and massages the nape of his neck. Dog tags with a silver chain settle in the middle of his chest, over a detailed raven perched on a sword tattoo.
I sit up, awkwardly, peeking through my hair strands, hoping he missed me gawking. At the end of the day, we’re strangers, and I still don’t know how I got here exactly. I’m afraid of him. I’m scared of everything right now.
Rising to his feet, he slides his palms into his black sweatpants. Sweat drips down his chest onto the hair above his groin. He palms his face, from his nose down to his bearded jaw, like he's trying to wake himself up. He grabs a T-shirt from the corner of the couch and slides it on.
