Page 32 of Catch Yourself a Snowmance
“For cuddling me.”
“I thought you were someone else.”
Gage’s smile shines white through the nearly pitch blackness of my room.
“Oh, yeah you did. You thought I was Alyssa.”
“I thought you were a woman,” I admit. “I was asleep.”
“Obviously.”
“Obviously,” I echo, brushing off my shirt as if the movement will rid me of the residue of having curled up with one of my closest friends like we were koalas in a eucalyptus tree—cuddly koalas with feelings for one another.
“No one has to know about this,” Gage says.
“Obviously,” I agree.
“Go to sleep, love birds!” Mitch calls from somewhere down the hall.
I smack my hand to my forehead. “Man, we are never living this down.”
“Nope. I’m down for a new friend group. You?”
“After I get some sleep.”
“Sounds good.”
Gage turns and walks toward my bedroom door.
I climb back into bed and tuck the covers up around me.
“You give good cuddles, bro,” Gage says, and then he shuts the door to my room.
I hear him chuckling all the way back to his room.
I wake the next morning with a vague recollection of something odd …
Oh, no! Gage!
And now I have to do the walk of shame into the kitchen toendure the relentless teasing from our friend group. Not to mention how I’ll even explain my reaction to him crawling into my bed.
I thought Gage was Alyssa. Not that she would be crawling into my bed if she were cold. But tell my sleep-addled, middle-of-the-night brain that.
Outside the window, soft flakes are falling again. Drifts of snow cover everything as far as I can see. The treetops and branches peek through—vague shadows of gray in a landscape of white.
I step out of bed, ready to face the inevitable roasting.
When I come down the stairs, someone starts hummingHere Comes the Bride.
“He’s here, Gage! Your sweetie pie!” Mitch shouts. Then he turns to me. “Good morning cuddlebug.”
I decide to own the moment. “Morning cutie patootie, come over here and give me some sugar.”
I open my arms wide and move a step in Mitch’s direction. The girls start cracking up. Alyssa just smiles over the rim of the coffee mug she’s gripping in both hands. I smile back at her. It’s like we’re sharing a secret. Man, I like her—a lot. All week I’ve been telling myself we can’t go further than friendship. And that’s logical. Messing up our friend groups would be horrible—an irrevocable disaster. But what if we don’t mess up our friend groups? What if we actually pursue something and it works out.
Mitch steps between me and Alyssa and bends to tuck his head under my chin.
“What are you doing?” I ask him, stepping back.
