Hey guys! Long time, no see, but inspiration struck, and the holidays are here! This story is inspired by a scene from Lock and Key by Sarah Dessen.
It had been the squid.
"Look, I said I was sorry, Vik. Please, please stop going on about it." I had said it over, and over, and yet, my family wouldn't let up.
I laid my head back against the wall. My head was throbbing, and my throat was bone-dry. Her shouting wasn't helping. I found myself growing more and more irritated, as she snapped back, "Well, who told you to continue eating that funky fish? The clue should have been the horrific smell!"
It had been the squid. I was a huge fan of seafood, especially squid, seasoned with a little salt and pepper, and a fresh lime sauce. I had been the only one to continue eating the damn thing, despite the horrible smell that started to emanate from it. I figured it was the restaurant in general, it being seafood and all that.
Cut to the next morning, today, and my head in a toilet, throwing up every slimy bit of that damn fish. Never again. I was left home in America, in my dormitory, without a soul. Wasn't all this punishment enough?
"…it's your own damn fault—"
"Okay, I'm hanging up now, goodbye Viktoria."
"Hey—"
I sighed, and proceeded to drag myself up of the floor. Nausea hit my senses, keeping me rooted to the spot. I laid a hand against the wall to steady myself, and dragged myself slowly to the shower. After the shower, all my energy was wasted, and I had just thrown up once more shortly before leaving the facilities. I was back, leaning against the wall, when the door to my left suddenly threw open, and a young woman stormed out, looking furious.
My eyes moved upward slowly, afraid to look, afraid to move my throbbing head. She was short, with waist length brown hair. Her hands were on her hips, but her eyes had immediately softened when she noticed my state.
She got down on her knees, and placed a cool hand on my perspiring forehead. Her fingertips brushed some of my hair back, and she frowned. I protested weakly, and then fell into a contemplative silence.
"Wait, I recognise you. You yelled at me for playing my music the other day."
A hint of a smile crossed her lips. "Yeah, that was me. Funnily enough, I just came out here to yell at you again, for the noise. Who was shouting at you on the phone?" She removed her hand.
I sighed, and closed my eyes. Her cool hands were steadying, I wished she had kept them on me longer. "My sister. I couldn't make it home this time for the holidays, because I ate some 'damn fish' and it was all my 'damn fault'…."
"Oh, dammit." I managed a weak laugh, and opened my eyes. There she was, smiling, a full smile that reached her eyes. They were a deep brown, dark, and incredibly warm, so different to the angry woman he witnessed the other day.
"Listen, there aren't many of us around here this time of year, so how about I get you inside for some contraband food, drink, and hilarious company?"
I looked around her into the room, and sure enough, there was a tiny toaster oven, and a sizeable pack of English muffins. "I shouldn't bother you, I've already caused enough—"
She rolled her eyes, and promptly seized me around the arms to pull me up. With her body as support, she managed to drag me through the door, and on to her bed. A curious scent of blackcurrant rose from her sheets, and I buried my face in the pillow, swallowing down a wave of bile, and closing my eyes to steady my banging head.
"I'll be back in fifteen. Sleep."
I inhaled deeply, and did exactly that.
When I dared to open my eyes, I was wrapped in layers of white sheets. I was soaked in sweat, but had seemed to break the fever. At the small kitchen top, the woman stood with her back to me, busying herself with the toaster oven. I took a moment to survey her room, blinking a few times to register what I was seeing. Her room was covered with posters of old bands, the Stones, the Ramones, the Beatles. She had a few belongings shelved on a desk, and a collection of thin spined novels. A small radio issued short bursts of an odd song about rabbits, and Alice.
When she finally turned, brushing her hands on her jeans, my eyes had returned to her.
"Hey, how are you feeling?" She sat at the edge of the bed, and felt my forehead again. This time, her hands felt comfortably warm.
"No fever."
"Just a little dehydrated."
"I thought so." She grabbed a pack of Gatorade, seemingly out of nowhere, and threw me one. "Sit up, and drink up. You've got to replace the electrolytes you've lost."
One sip, and then another. I cleared my throat.
"Better?"
"Much." I smiled. "Thank you. What time is it?"
"4:00."
"I should get back."
"To an empty room, right."
I stared.
"Stay. I've got pizzas in the oven. A handful of solid holiday films." She turned, and jumped. "Company would be nice."
I thought for a moment, and then nodded quickly. "My name's Dimitri, by the way."
"Rose."
We sat on the floor. She put on The Family Stone, and we proceeded to devour three of the mini-pizzas, each.
"What did you put in this?" I groaned.
"Cheap spaghetti sauce, cheese." She swallowed. "Not bad, huh?"
Not bad. I licked my fingers. She finished her last piece, and pulled the rug in front of us closer, reaching for a twizzler with two fingers. The rug heaved under bowls of chocolate, and jellies. Small pieces of bread, marshmallows, and biscuits were in another bowl to the side.
"To toast," she explained. She already had one batch of toastables in the oven, and we ate our way through that too.
"Sorry about the bed."
She shook her head. "I can change those sheets tomorrow."
"Gatorade, milady?"
"Why yes, thank you, good sir." We laughed.
This had to be the worst meal I had ever devoured. It was grossly unhealthy, and unappetising at times, once all the ingredients came together. It was also one of the best he had ever had.
Once the movie was over, she put on another. I stood up.
Her smile slipped. I almost laughed. "Where are you going?"
"Down to the store. I'll be back in 20 minutes."
She gestured to the window. Indeed, small white flakes had begun to flutter out of the sky. "A blizzard's coming, you're probably not going to make it back in time."
"I'll be back, hold tight."
"Are you sure you're feeling better? Will I get an emergency 911 call, or find a frozen dead body in the snow somewhere?"
"Definitely that second one."
"I'm serious."
"So am I, I'm going."
And I closed the door on her shocked face.
She was right, a blizzard was coming, and I just missed it. I made it back through her door, and immediately flew to her. I hugged her extraordinarily tight, and buried my face in her hair. Warmth spread from my stomach, to my arms, to my heart. The scent of blackcurrants rang true.
"Um, okay."
"I'm so cold. Just hug me, hug me."
After a few seconds, her limp arms went around me, and her hands went up to my hair, gently ruffling the snow from my hair. Warmth grew in the space between us, our breathing filling the silence.
"That was also your thank you," I told her, when I finally broke away. I placed my grocery bag on the table behind her. "And so is this."
I rubbed my hands together, and took each ingredient out. "I'm making pierogi, my speciality."
"Ukrainian dumplings? You had a sudden craving for dumplings?"
"Of course. So are you helping or not?"
She turned the kettle on.
"That was….well, that was incredible."
"Not bad for dumplings in a dorm room, I suppose."
She smiled, and picked up the plates. I followed her to the sink with the cups. She turned, leaning against the edge of the sink. Grinning, her hand went up to my cheek, wiping away some specks of flour.
"Why didn't you go home for the holidays?" I murmured. We had skirted around it so often today, that I couldn't keep the question at bay until she answered.
She sighed. "Short answer: My mom is a workaholic, and dad is god knows where. Holidays aren't exactly the happiest time of the year for us Hathaways."
"Next time, you'll come home with me."
"That sounds good."
I coughed. "Where are you going to sleep tonight?" Our eyes wandered over to her dishevelled bed, the soiled sheets. "I'm sorry."
"No, no, I'll grab a sheet and sleep on the floor."
"Or you could sleep in mine."
"What?" Her eyebrows rose.
I waved my hands frantically, as a blush worked its way across her cheeks. Her eyes were averted. "No, no, you can use the bed, I'll sleep on the floor."
"I shouldn't, you're the sick one…."
And then I did what she had done, well a variation of that: seized her around the legs, threw her over a shoulder, and marched her to my room. She did protest too much.
The next couple of days were spent in bliss, as we spent the days lounging around in her room, toasting everything, and evenings making fascinating forays into increasingly diverse cuisines. One evening, she had made such a fantastic gumbo, he had almost groaned aloud. Occasionally, our arms would touch, our legs would press against each other, our fingers would brush reaching for the same thing. A moment of silence, sometimes a cough, and we were doing the next thing. Neither of us wanted to shatter what we had going, until it was truly over.
The snow was slowly starting to clear, and soon enough, the numbers in the dormitory started to increase as people flocked back from holidays. Some were sporting fashionable tans, and sunburns from ski trips, others were simply overstuffed, and incredibly tired after long, lurid family affairs. My own roommate would be back in a day or two from Aspen.
I stepped outside into the corridor, and gave Rose a backward glance.
Leaning a hand against the wall next to me, I sighed. "Thank you, for the best holiday I've ever had."
She laughed. "That's high praise. No disrespect to your family."
"I'd meant to say it, that first day in your room, but then pierogi happened."
"No thank you necessary. Thanks for keeping me company."
I threw up my hands. "Thank goodness for squid."
She crossed her arms, and we surveyed one another silently. A heartbeat later, and we both reached out at the same time. Her lips met mine in short, chaste kiss; a promise of more. We leaned our foreheads against one another, and breathed.
"Tomorrow?" Her lips smiled against mine.
"Tomorrow."
What did you think? There's material here for a one-shot sequel, we'll see how it goes! Merry Christmas, lovelies!
