Was it the woman I saw in the bathroom after my first shower? Or was it that man I had nightmares of last night? The same one with blood all over his face in the kitchen cabinet’s reflection? Either way, I don’t want the answer.
Blood thrums in my ears as I swallow anxiously, and I pedalbackwards slowly until I’m in the living room, just waiting for something to pop out. My eyes are glued to the walls, the windows, anything and everything, waiting for a figure to present itself.
Screw this. I don’t want to be alone when questionable things are happening in this cabin. I’ve never believed in ghosts. Sure, I love watching paranormal horror movies, but I’ve never had an experience to make me think spirits are real. I think I’m being haunted.
After my stay, I think I can say I’m a firm believer in the paranormal.
I guess I won’t get to eat the breakfast I’ve been cooking for the past hour.
I quickly swing on a coat I find on the coat rack. It’s thick, black, and goes all the way down past my knees, surprisingly fitting me enough to cling to my body. This must be Merelyn’s. I follow Gavin outside and track his footsteps in the snow. It leads me straight to him.
Easy.
I find him just in time before he disappears into the trees. Tall and moody, walking with a signature distinct pace. His massive shoulders sway with every strut. He’s smoking a cigarette. With his two fingers, he flicks it until small pieces of ash soar into the air. For someone who seems to smoke frequently, it doesn’t stain his home or clothes or follow him home, which is refreshing.
I don’t know why I try with Gavin, but I can recognize when someone is hurting. I notice it in the way he can’t smile or laugh. He’s someone with a story. A history that made him guarded, timid, abrasive, and tainted. Someone who can’t seem to pull themselves out of the dark. It’s the way I’ve been for the past few months, fighting to get out of my depression.
We have a lot in common that way, but how long has he been trying to get out of the dark?
“Why are you such a jerk?!” I blurt as soon as I’m in range for him to hear me complain.
Yikes.
I’m getting straight to the point, but after getting to know him, I don’t think he minds. He might even prefer it.
He stops moving. I don’t bother bringing up what just happened in the kitchen with my hair. I don’t need to make him think I’m delusional, too. He might kick me out of the cabin at this point if I keep bringing up the abnormal encounters. I believe it’s best to keep this to myself for the remainder of my stay.
“I mean, look,” I palm my hips. “You said you want to start over, but every time I think we’re making progress as roommates, you push me away and leave. What? Are you going to disappear for three days again? Leave me alone in the cabin while you do God knows what?”
“Don’t talk to me as if I owe you something,” he snarls. “I owe you nothing. You’re in my house,” he points to the cabin, “cooking my food, sleeping in my bed, putting up my mother’s decorations! I’m sorry I gave you the wrong idea about me. So let’s clear up my reputation so you don’t get the wrong idea.” His Adam’s apple bobs. “I didn’t have to do anything for you that night, and I still don’t.”
I rear back, feeling more unwelcome and like an inconvenience than ever before.
“Don’t be mistaken, sweetheart. I’m not a good man. I pulled you out of that wreckage because it was the right thing to do. I could have left you there.”
“Wow,my hero,” I spit slowly and sarcastically with a cruel bite to my words. I ignore the way heat crept into my cheeks when he called me sweetheart. How does he manage to be still so hot even when he’s being a grumpy asshole?
“I’m trying to be nice, but why do you make it so hard to get to know you?!”
“Maybe because I’m not worth getting to know. There’snothing to get to know.”
His eyes narrow, and his cruel frown drops into something unreadable. I rear back as I watch him curse to himself. He rearranges his brown hat on the top of his head, lifting it into the air as he uses his fingers to rake through his hair. It’s as though he let candor slip through the cracks of the wall he likes to hide behind.
“Maybe because I don’t know what to do with you when you look at and talk to me.” His nostrils flare while puffs of air swirl out of his mouth every time he breathes. “I don’t know what to do when you’re cooking in my kitchen, looking the way you do. Or when you come out of my shower wearing my clothes. You intimidate me. No one comes up here. I’m not interesting—I’m dull. What you see is what you get.”
I intimidate him? Me? There’s nothing to intimidate him with. He’s the one who makes me nervous with one glance. I hope the snowfall is masking my blush.
“Gavin.” I shake my head as I continue to soak his words in. I want to say a thousand things.
Don’t be intimidated by me.
You are anything but dull.
Why doesn’t anyone visit? Surely you have friends.
I knew he was lonely, but he doesn’t want to admit it.
I close the distance in seconds, climbing out of the feet of snow more easily than I thought. When I close in on him, I palm the tree he’s leaning on until I’m facing his stressed and remote expression, breathing in his minty, magnetic scent.
