It was too cold to sleep. Don sat up and rubbed his eyes, still trying to assimilate information that seemed utterly erroneous. He was in Oklahoma, it was February, he was in a high school gym, and his body heat couldn't warm the floorboards enough to allow him to sleep.
It was early for tornadoes, but it wasn't unheard of. The unseasonably warm temperatures had contributed to the severe weather. As he looked around the gym at the other refugees, he felt a pang of guilt. He'd only been in the area on a layover from Atlanta to LA. Tomorrow, he would head to the airport, rent a car, drive to another airport and fly back to the warmth and relative safety of the remaining southern California winter. He would, that is if he could get any sleep.
"Hey," called a voice softly from his left. He turned his head and found the owner of the voice, a dark haired, dark eyed woman in her late twenties to early thirties.
"What?" he replied in a whisper. She sat up.
"Are you cold?"
"No," he lied.
"Good." She wrapped herself in her blanket and stood up. Stepping gingerly over the few people between them, she knelt down next to him.
"Scoot over. I'm freezing." He suspended his disbelief long enough to obey the command.
"What are you doing?" he asked, one eyebrow gaining altitude.
"I'm imposing on your good nature and asking you to be a gentleman for one night. I intend to sleep with you." At that, they both looked at each other, and she smiled. He snorted softly and lifted up his blanket. She sat and began to situate herself.
"You know, this will go a lot easier if you take off your gun," she observed.
"How did you know I was packing?" he asked sincerely. His shirt had come untucked during his unplanned exodus from the airport and had obscured his weapon from casual view.
"It's all in the posture. Your right hip is cocked out slightly, an unconscious effort to make your gun more accessible." At his dumbstruck expression, she laughed.
"Marine," she offered by way of explanation. She lay down and faced him. He removed his weapon from his belt with a slight rasp as the Velcro gave way. She nodded her head in approval and moved closer to him. She started slightly when she felt his cold hand brush hers.
"You are such a liar. Good thing I came over, then. No reason for two of us to freeze to death." She caught both of his hands in hers and placed them deep within her dark curls. He tried to pull back, but she stopped him with a motion of her hands.
"The body loses a lot of heat through the head. Thick hair acts as an insulator and keeps the head and body warm. Since I'm on leave, I left it down today." To Don's surprise, his hands were getting warmer. She snuggled closer and wrapped her blanket around them.
"This is by far the strangest night I've ever had."
"It's gonna be the longest if you keep talking," she retorted. "Close your eyes and get some sleep."
"What's your name?" he asked.
"Look. Sometimes, people just need each other. I need your body heat and it turns out that I'm not especially partial to sleeping alone. So let's just be two people in a temporary symbiotic relationship. Two sleeping people," she added with a smile.
"Deal," he replied. Warmed by her body heat, he began to feel drowsy. She had already fallen asleep; the deep, even breathing gave her away. He pulled her closer and smelled the strawberry perfume of her hair. He pretended just for a moment that he was home, pretended that someone was home with him. In the twilight between wakefulness and sleep, he half believed it.