Page 35 of Catch Yourself a Snowmance
“Well, that set the bar,” Mitch says.
“Good thing it’s not a limbo contest,” Gage adds. “That bar is low low low. How low can you go?”
I shake my head and sit back in the comfort of the sofa. That’s over with, and I did what I set out to do. I spared Alyssa the embarrassment of having to sing in front of all of us.
“Okay?” Noelle says. “Who’s next?”
“A-lyss-a!” Tori chants. “A-lyss-a!” Jennifer joins in. Then my friends shout her name too, even though they don’t know what they’re rooting for. I remain quiet.
“Okay. Okay. I’ll sing.”
“You don’t have to,” I tell her.
“It’s okay. I just get a case of the nerves. I actually like to sing.”
“Okay.”
If Alyssa likes it, who am I to judge? I couldn’t care less how she sings. She might as well sound like Gilbert Gottfried as the parrot in Aladdin, all nasally and squawking,Jafaaaahr. Jafahhhahhhahhr. I’d still think she’s adorable.
Alyssa takes the microphone from Noelle. She clears her voice, nods at Noelle, and waits. Some synthesized keyboard tune starts up. I barely recognize it.
Then Alyssa starts to sing, “Oooh, ooooh hooo hooo hooooo oooo …” And my jaw literally drops. Her voice. It’s like spun silk or a cloud. It’s airy and light and shimmery, wrapping around me and pulling me in. I can’t take my eyes off her as she sings Whitney Houston’s old song, Run to You in a style I’m sure would make Whitney herself proud. I watch those singing competitions on TV sometimes. This performance would win. I stare at Alyssa, unable to take my eyes off her. She sings with her eyes closed at times, lost in the lyrics, making the unreal sound coming out of her seem effortless. When she opens her eyes and sings that she wants to run to me, I believe her.
Does she?
I hope so.
The room is still when she sings the last note. And then Gage and Mitch start whistling and clapping like maniacs and Alyssa’s friends, who obviously know how amazing she is, cheer. Tori jumps up and hugs Alyssa.
“It’s been too long since I’ve heard you sing. Thank you.”
“Yeah. No problem.” Alyssa tucks a hair behind her ear, ducks her head and walks to a spot next to the coffee table to sit on the floor. I watch her the whole way. She’s like a magnet to me.
It’s not just being locked in the cabin. It’s not the way she stayed with me while I flubbed at snowboarding. It’s not the late night chats, or the way she feels in my arms.
It’s all of it.
It’s her.
I’ve got it bad.
Later that afternoon, after the rest of our friends demonstrates their mediocre talents, we ate lunch, and half of our crowd retreated to their bedrooms for a nap, I approach Alyssa. She’s curled up in the bay window with a blanket and her Kindle. She looks so cozy, but I can’t help myself.
“Hey,” I say in a quiet voice.
I look down at her and she tilts her head up to meet my gaze.
“Want to take a walk?”
The snow stopped a few hours ago. It’s not too bad. Everything’s covered, but there are dips where paths lie dormant beneath the snow. If we bundle up and put on boots, we can experience that certain kind of stillness that only happens in remote areas after a snowstorm.
“Yeah. I’d like that.” Her voice is soft and her expression intimate.
I smile down at her and extend her my hand.
“I’ll meet you back down here in a few, okay?” she says.
“I’ll be here.”
