Page 45 of Snow Balled

Sleep was still a long time coming, however.

The next morning, I lay in bed and checked my email. Then read some news, texted some friends. But I knew eventually, I had to leave my room and face the men out there—if for no other reason than that was where the bathroom was.

And the food.

Finally, I couldn’t wait any longer. Dressed in a long-sleeved t-shirt and yet another pair of sweatpants, I made a beeline for the bathroom, ignoring the sounds of people in the kitchen. When I emerged, Tristan called my name, inviting me to come eat with them.

“I’m not hungry,” I said as I made my way to the laundry room where, hopefully, there was a winter coat I could borrow. Drew’s was there, so I pulled it on, trying to ignore the fact that it smelled good. Like him.

I turned, intending to make a run for the back door, but something caught my eye over in the closet where I’d first found the ski boots. I grabbed the bright yellow object and then hurried past the kitchen, carefully not looking at anyone. “I’m going for a walk.”

With lightning speed, I pulled on my boots, hat, and gloves. I’d almost made it out the door when Zeus bounded up. “Not this time, okay buddy?”

He looked hurt as I pushed his snout back inside the door, but then I was in the clear. There was no one out here who knew what Drew and I had done last night. No one to judge me. No one to make me question what had gotten into me.

I truly didn’t know the answer to that last one. And almost as surprising as the events of last night, was the fact that I didn’t regret it.

But that didn’t mean it wasn’t as embarrassing as hell.

Tromping over a fresh layer of snow, I made my way to the little sheltered alcove I’d visited a few times. But when I was a few feet away, I crouched down, packing snow into the item I’d brought with me—the beach bucket Drew and I had spotted that time when we’d searched the bins in the closet.

The snow was wet and easy to pack. Once the bucket was full, I carried it over and set it on the log where I liked to sit. Using my feet, I did my best to clear a square in front of the log. I packed the snow down hard rather than brushing it to the side. As I well knew, there was still a layer of ice down there.

Once that was done, I turned the bucket upside down at the perimeter of the square and patted the bottom. When I lifted the yellow plastic, the snow retained the shape of the bucket perfectly. Then I packed more snow into the bucket and did it again. And again.

Yes, I was a California girl, but when I was a kid, my mom would sometimes take me up to Oregon to visit her father. He was the one who taught me how to make a snow fort. It was a skill I hadn’t used in years, but I still remembered how. I still remembered my grandfather, too, even though he died before I made my first appearance on TV.

After every four or five times with the bucket, I stopped to pack some snow in between. Tomorrow, I’d put the next layer on, slowly building the walls higher.

As I sat on my log chair, surveying the beginnings of my fort, I took some time to reflect. I didn’t know exactly why I made the fort, except it gave me something to do out here. And, well, maybe because it was the only place that seemed to be just mine.

But mostly because it gave me somewhere quiet to think. Places like that were pretty hard to come by in the cabin—and if ever there was a time to think things over, it was after last night.

Two things bothered me. The first was Drew. Would he misinterpret what we’d done together? To me, it was about enjoying the company of a friend and letting my guard down. But I had no clue what it meant to him. Would he expect us to do more? Did he think it meant something it didn’t? He was an amazing guy, and I would never want to do anything to hurt him. He was my friend. My very hot, handsome, and mischievous friend.

And then there were the other guys. At some point while I was working on the wall of the fort, it dawned on me why I'd been bothered by Zeus’s absence last night. It wasn’t just because he was a great dog, though he was. But when I’d thought about it, it seemed that the only place he could’ve been was upstairs, which was a spot he usually didn’t go.

Had he climbed up on his own and slept on the landing? Or had he whined outside Carter’s door to be let in? And if so, had Carter heard us? Or even more troubling—had one of the guys guessed where things were heading with Drew and me and deliberately taken the dog upstairs?

That last possibility seemed the least likely, since I hadn’t had any clue at that point where the night would lead, but it was the one that worried me the most.

I dwelled over it for a while longer, before ruefully realizing that hiding away and worrying was far more normal behavior for me than what Drew and I had done last night.

Last night had been more fun, though.

Eventually, I got too cold to stay out there any longer. After all, the walls of my secret hideout were only about a foot high at this point. Since it didn’t seem likely I’d get sprung from this place any time soon, I was confident that they’d grow.

The guys were at the worktable when I got back, all doing their own thing. I was grateful no one seemed in a chatty mood. I wasn't ready to talk, plus, I really needed to get some work done, too. First, however, I went to the kitchen to get some coffee. I wasn’t a professional, but I’d already learned that writing went better when you had some caffeine in you.

I’d just pulled a mug down from the cabinet when I heard someone enter the kitchen behind me. My body stiffened—it was an ingrained habit. Then I turned and Drew was there.

I waited, wondering what he’d do. Hug me? Ignore me? Say something the others might overhear?

But all he did was smile. Then he came over and grasped my free hand with his own.

Did it mean last night was just our secret?

Did it mean we were still friends?

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