Frigid (10 page)

“You don’t look fine.”

Pushing open the door, I slid inside and quickly shut it behind me, locking it. I couldn’t even look in the mirror. I squeezed my eyes shut, but it was hopeless. Tears eked out, streaming down my cheeks.

“Syd?” He was right outside the door. “What’s going on?”

“Go away, Kyler.” Sitting down on the rim of the bathtub, I pulled the quilt up to my chin. My stomach was churning. I lifted the lid on the toilet.

The doorknob rattled, and I sank to my knees. I couldn’t even see the toilet, but I hoped I hit it. “Sydney!”

The quilt slipped my fingers and I grasped the sides of the toilet. “Go away!”

A moment of silence stretched into minutes. Then all those stupid shots came back up, leaving my insides feeling wrecked and my heart—well, it was cracked for a whole different reason.

Wincing at the sounds coming from inside the bathroom, I moved away from the door and then went back, trying the doorknob again. She’d locked me out. God knows I could help her, hold her hair and shit, but she actually locked me out.

Damn it all to hell and back again, I wanted to kick the door in.

But I didn’t. I’d seen the look on her face, like I’d crushed her. I didn’t get why.

I stared at the door, taking a deep breath.
Why did you stop me?
Did she really ask that question? Was she still drunk? It seemed obvious to me. Syd had been way too drunk to even be considering masturbation, let alone sex.

Backing away from the door, I turned and headed downstairs. I checked her phone—still didn’t work—and then I checked the news. Still calling for the storm of the century, and outside the snow was starting to really come down.

I did just about everything to stop myself from checking on Syd, or from really thinking about what she had asked me. I even called my mom.

She answered on the second ring, sounding breathless. “Hey honey, please tell me you’re not on your way home. I don’t want you trying to drive through a blizzard or putting Sydney in a car.”

My lips split into a grin. “We’re going to wait it out, Mom.”

“Good.” Relief was evident in her voice. “Tony and I were so worried you were going to try to get out of there and hit the storm on the way.”

I meandered through the various rooms, stopping in the sunroom. “What’s it doing there?”

“Snowing like crazy, honey,” she replied. “Did anyone else make it up there?”

“No.” I moved a plotted plant to a different stand. “They hit the snow coming up.”

“So, it’s just you and Sydney?”

“Yep.”

There was a pause. “Interesting.”

I frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” she said, but she said it way too innocently. “Are you taking care of Sydney?”

I thought of last night. “Yeah, I always do.”

“That is true.” Another pause had my brows slamming down. So did not trust her silences. “You know, she treats you real good, honey.”

My mouth opened, but nothing came out.

“That’s a good girl with a good head on her shoulders. You’d be—”

“Okay,” I cut in. I was
not
having this conversation with her. There was only one other conversation I dreaded more than talking about girls with my mom.

Mom laughed and then she said, “Oh. Before I forget—Tony wants to take you to the club in Bethesda we’re looking into remodeling. He wants to see what you think of it.”

I came to a complete standstill. Aaand there was the other conversation. “Why?”

“Because we probably won’t make a move on it until late spring,” she explained, and I could hear the TV in the background. She must’ve been in her home office. “The owner is holding out and thinks they have enough money to get them an additional four months, but we’ll see. Anyway, it works out perfectly. It can be your first restoration.”

“Huh?”

“You’re graduating in the spring, or did you forget that?” Excitement hummed in her voice, and my stomach sank. “This works out perfectly. You get to show us your goods with the club in Bethesda. Tony wants to take you down there while you’re home over break.”

My eyes widened as I turned from the windows. “I don’t know, Mom. I might not have time for that.”

“Oh, pooh on that. You’ll have time.”

I said nothing.

Mom went back to talking about the weather, but I was barely listening. Ever since the restoration business took off, it was just assumed I would be a part of it. At first, I really didn’t have anything against it. Good money—great money even—my own hours, and I could travel, but it didn’t appeal to me.

It wasn’t what I wanted, what I cared about.

But Mom had sent me to college for this. Telling her that there was something else I wanted to do with my life was tantamount to throwing all that money back in her face—money that had started with my father’s life insurance.

I got off the phone pretty quickly after that and found myself in the basement, holding my guitar in my hands and staring into nothing. Back to Syd—always back to Syd.

A huge part of me was just confused. Completely, utterly confused by her question, but the other part? I was pissed. Did she think I normally slept with girls who were so fucked up they couldn’t walk straight? There was a huge, vast difference between that and being drunk. Was that how she really thought of me?

Disgust rolled through me, and my hand tightened around the neck of the guitar.

I had never slept with a girl who didn’t know what she was doing. If I even thought for one second that a girl was too drunk, nothing happened. Just like with Mindy. Then again, perception was all that mattered. All Syd saw was me going home with girls after drinking. I’d slept with a lot of females, so it didn’t take a huge leap of logic for her to think that I slept with every one of those girls, and that she wouldn’t be any different.

“Fuck,” I muttered as I sat on the couch across from the covered pool table.

The muscles in my stomach tightened. How could Syd think I’d treat her like a drunken one-night stand? The whole idea of that sickened me. I wasn’t perfect, but fuck, this was Syd.

Syd would always deserve far better than that, and far better than me, no matter how deep she lived inside of me.

I stayed hidden in my room until I was seconds away from chewing my arm off. By then it was in the late afternoon. I’d stopped hurling and crying hours ago, and from what I could see out the bedroom window, the snow was coming down in waves and the wind was picking up.

Heading downstairs, I stopped the bottom of the steps and strained to hear where Kyler might be. There was a distant hum of the TV from the basement, so the coast was clear. I hurried through the foyer and into the kitchen.

The room was cooler due to the floor-to-ceiling windows in the front. I wrapped my arms around myself and walked over to the glass. Staring out the window, I watched the wind pick up the flakes, spinning them into little funnels as it tossed them across the snow-covered driveway. There had to be several inches of the new fluff since last night. And it was supposed to get worse?

Man, we picked the worst time to come here.

Turning away from the window, I went to the fridge and opened it. Kyler’s mom had done us good, though. Food and drinks stacked the fridge and freezer. I bypassed the more complex stuff and went with bologna and cheese. But when I went to put the items back in the fridge, I sighed and made one for Kyler—ham, cheese, and extra mayo. I didn’t know if he’d already eaten or not. I don’t even know why I did it—maybe out of habit—or maybe it was just because even though Kyler had stared at me like I was nuts for asking why he hadn’t hooked up with me, I still loved him.

God, I was lame.

Wrapping his sandwich in a paper towel, I ate mine quickly and downed an entire can of soda in minutes. The food settled weird in my stomach, and I guessed it was a product of drinking half my weight in tequila. I couldn’t believe I’d drunk that much and didn’t die, considering I had no tolerance for alcohol.

When I was done, I really didn’t know what to do. I didn’t want to go back upstairs, and I wasn’t ready to face Kyler just yet. Would I ever be ready after I’d tried to kiss him and was then rejected by the guy who’d pretty much had his dick in just about everything? Had his dick in some chick two nights ago?

God, that should’ve just grossed me out, but it really just made me feel all the more lame.

As I roamed the upstairs, I could hear a strumming rift or two coming from the downstairs. I quietly made my way to the edge of the stairs that led to the basement.

Kyler was playing the guitar.

Leaning against the wall, I closed my eyes. Kyler had a talent when it came to playing music. Even as a kid, he could pick up almost any instrument and learn how to play it in record time. I, on the other hand, made musical instruments run in the other direction.

He was playing a Dave Matthews song, not missing a note at all. A smile pulled at my lips as I listened. Each note was perfect, rising in tempo as the song continued. I don’t know how long I stood there and listened, but when he stopped, I was bereft.

With nothing else to do, I slipped on my boots, jacket, and hat. Slipping out the front door, I pulled my gloves out of my pockets and put them on. Snow always made me feel better. I liked shoveling. I was weird, but it helped me think.

It was brutal outside, though. The wind whipped down the valley. There weren’t any other houses near this one, and other than the forest full of pines, the land was empty.

I made my way carefully down the stairs and hit the ground. Last night the snow had been packed down, but now it came up to my calves and it was wet and heavy. I waded around the stairs and made my way to the front of the garage. Looking around, I saw the shovel propped against the wall under the stairs.

Le sigh.

Shuffling back up the slight incline, I grabbed the shovel and turned, taking a sheet of snow in the face. It stung like a bitch.

“Jesus,” I muttered, shaking my head.

Dragging the shovel out to the driveway, I started clearing a path. There wasn’t any point to it. Wind was blowing snow back onto the tiny section I cleared, and when Saint Snow-dumbass or whatever they were calling it finally got here, it would be a total white-out, but I liked the burn in my arms and how everything seemed different outside, freezing my ass off and sweating at the same time.

Maybe trying to kiss Kyler and getting rejected wasn’t such a bad thing. I could learn from this experience. Get some perspective or something, because it was probably well beyond the time I should be letting go of this stupid unrequited love stuff.

He didn’t want me.

I wanted him.

The only way to fix this was to find someone else. And there was Paul. Nothing was wrong with him, and before Kyler had hijacked me at the bar, there was a good chance that he was going to ask me out. At least that was how it’d sounded, and according to both Kyler and Andrea, Paul was attracted to me. He didn’t need to be swimming in beer to want me, so he got bonus points right there.

Too bad Paul wasn’t snowed in here.

Oh, who was I fooling? Even if Paul were here, it wasn’t like I’d be spending the entire time in his bed or something, but he could’ve been the perfect distraction.

I stopped, brushing snow off my face. Using Paul as a distraction was really shitty, but if I could just let go of Kyler, I could fall for Paul. Couldn’t I? He was nice and handsome and fun. As far as I knew, he didn’t sleep around. We had career goals in common.

My heart didn’t like the idea, though. Like I was betraying Kyler or something, and that was just stupid. But I felt…icky even considering it.

Everything in my life was where it needed to be. I would graduate in the spring, enter grad school, and for the most part, I had my shit together, but relationships? I missed the boat on that one. It was the one thing I couldn’t fix or figure out. I was twenty-one, but it was like I was stuck at sixteen when it came to my love life.

In reality, I was stuck on one word:
frigid
.

Seemed stupid to be so affected by some guy saying that, especially with my psychology background, but that one word summed up years of a relationship and my own actual real sexual act.

I couldn’t get past that, just like I couldn’t get past Kyler.

Half-tempted to throw myself face-first into the snow, I began shoveling with vigor. I had half the snow moved off a decent section of the driveway when I heard something rumbling in the distance. Turning around, I held the ends of my hair back from my face and tried to see through the snow.

What the hell was that noise? There was nothing around here. We were too far from the street to hear anything and I doubted anyone was up on the slopes today. Dropping the shovel as the noise—the hum of an engine—grew louder, I still couldn’t see anything. Thinking I might have some tequila still left in my veins, I twisted around, and then I saw it.

Two small headlights belonging to a snowmobile were a couple of yards away from me, flying over the snow and kicking up loose flakes.

My brain absolutely refused to comprehend what was happening at first, but instinct kicked in. Air expelled out of my lungs in a painful rush. It was coming fast—too fast. I froze maybe only for a second and then I started backpedaling, panic making my movements clumsy.

“Hey!” I yelled, waving my arms, but the wind carried my voice away.

The snowmobile was heading straight for me! Didn’t they see me? My heart turned over.

Twisting away, I turned and tripped over the handle of the shovel. My knees sank through the snow and I quickly pushed myself up, fear coating my insides in ice as I looked over my shoulder. It was right on me, so close I could see the white helmet with the red and yellow stripe down the center and the dark shield covering the face. I couldn’t get out of the way. It was going to run me over.

A tiny part of my brain, that wasn’t completely overcome with panic, couldn’t believe that this was how I would die. Being run over by a rogue snowmobile during a blizzard? Life was so cruel.