Teddy goes to the window and looks out. “Neighbor’s house is dark, too. Do you have a flashlight or some candles?”
It’s not quite sunset outside and Teddy’s big frame is lit up as he stands with his back to the window, facing me. That’s when it sets in. I mean really sets in. I’m snowed in with Teddy. Freaking snowed in. Just the two of us. With no power.
“Holly?” The way he says my name, rough but somehow soft, snatches my attention.
When I meet his gaze, his gray eyes (though I can’t actually make out the color in the dim light) seek me out with concern and care. “We’ll be okay.”
How do I tell him that my concern isn’t that we’ll freeze to death but that I might say or do something idiotic and embarrass myself in front of him? This crush feels like it’s going to die a cold, humiliating death.
Once you make a big enough ass out of yourself in front of someone you like, you realize that there is absolutely no coming back from it. That’s it. The heart moves on. No, not the heart. The brain. It must be a survival technique. When all hope is finally lost, your brain stops sending dopamine or endorphins orwhatever it is (science is clearly not my strong suit) that makes your body sing when the other person is around.
I don’t want to be over Teddy. This crush feels good, even if I am way, way out of my depth here.
This is one of those instances when I wish I were more like Stella. She would have no problem being snowed in with her crush. But I’m me, and Teddy is still staring at me like I’m about to break down in front of him.
“Lights,” I say finally. “I think there might be a flashlight in the master closet, and I saw some candles under the sink.”
He moves into action, but I’m slower. He gets close, and I realize I’m in his path and start to move, but he’s already going around me and now I’m in front of him again.
“Sorry,” I squeak as he braces himself on my shoulders to keep from plowing me over. His chest brushes against mine and I get a whiff of his soap mixed with fir tree.
We both start to move again, but this time, we go in opposite directions.
I grab the candles under the sink and then search the other rooms, finding two more. When I get back to the main room, Teddy has a small flashlight and matches.
He turns the flashlight on and shines it around the dark room, then turns it back off and sets it on the counter. “These were in there too.” He holds up the matches.
“Should we save them?”
He shakes his head. “Maybe one, but I doubt the power will be out that long.”
We light the candles, leaving one on the kitchen counter, and I bring the others into the living room.
“Well.” He blows out a breath and sits on the couch with his beer. “Not a lot we can do now but wait.”
“We could put on a movie,” I suggest and then immediately chastise myself. “But we don’t have any power.”
He laughs softly. “Would have been a great idea.”
“I have my laptop. We could watch something on that.”
“We should probably save it.”
I nod, glancing outside. The sky is getting darker, and the snow is still falling. “For emergencies? In case we need to...email someone or something.”
One side of his mouth lifts and I get a half-dimpled smile. “I meant in case we got bored later.”
“Oh, right.” I move into the kitchen and pour myself a glass of the RumChata.
“Who would we email, out of curiosity?” Teddy asks when I get back. I sit next to him on the couch. His presence feels even bigger in the near dark.
“I don’t know,” I say with an embarrassed giggle. “Maybe the power company?”
“Or a snowplow?” he teases.
“So maybe email isn’t the best way to contact someone in an emergency, but maybe as a last resort? At least I could email my parents to say goodbye.” The room is starting to cool off without the heat on. There’s a fireplace but only two logs of firewood because it has always been more about ambience than survival.
Teddy angles his body toward me and places one arm on the back of the couch. “That’s sweet.”