Page 13 of SnowBound

4

ANDERSON

Once we were done with our hot chocolate, the girl, whose name I hadn’t asked yet, angled her body to face me. “You wanna get out of here? Have some fun instead of being miserable.”

I scrunched up my face. “Don’t think so. I’m good. I’ll order more coffee and maybe hot chocolate, who knows? I’ll be fine. Knock yourself out, though. I’ll stay glued to my chair.”

She jumped to her feet. “Come on, it will be fun. The airport will be our playground. Sulking about the weather, our parents, or the circumstances won’t help us out.”

I fixed my gaze on her for a long moment. Her eyes, the color of a waterfall on a summer day, brightened. Gone were the clouds I saw there minutes ago. Once again, she glowed from within, and it mesmerized me.

She held out her hand, and a sigh later—a long one for good measure to show my level of exasperation—I slid my palm into hers but didn’t get up. Instead, I gave her a handshake.

“Andy. I’m done calling you the coffee shop girl in my head.”

A contagious grin stretched her lips. “Coffee shop girl, huh? That’s a first. It sounds nice, but I actually have a name. I’m Abby.” She flashed me the biggest smile. “See, our names rhyme. We already have something in common. We’ll get along just fine, Aaandy.” The way she said my name sent signals to every part of my body. Even though she was too perky for my broodiness, she was hot. And her energy contagious. I had to admit that. Our gazes fixated on each other. There was something about her. A strong yet vulnerable side that appealed to all my senses.

“So, Abby…you have a last name?”

She shook her head. “Nah.”

I cocked one brow and waited.

“Well, I do, but it’s more interesting if we keep the anonymity, don’t you think? Two strangers who meet during a snowstorm, stranded in an airport. They never exchange their full names and spend a night to remember together. One night of magic with no tomorrow. It sounds like a movie plot.”

“A night to remember? Is there something I should know?”

Abby snickered, the sound fucking with my mind once again, and picked up my guitar case along with her bag. “You’ll see.”

“Hey, what are you doing?” I asked, rushing after her. “Give it back.”

“Relax already.” She shook her head, her smile never faltering. “I’m only asking the nice lady to keep our stuff while we explore the airport. Stop making assumptions about my intentions, Aaandy.”

“I’m not.” I closed my eyes. That guitar was my most precious possession. A gift from my dad on my twelfth birthday, one I knew nothing about because he chose his other family over us. For a reason I couldn’t explain, the instrument had more sentimental value than anything else in my life. Maybe because it was the only thing I possessed, linking me to him, other than my genes. Deep down, I wished he had chosen us. That we had been enough for him and that he had loved us enough to stay and be a part of my life. These days, I thought about him a lot. And how my life would have been different if he had stuck by us. Maybe it was because of our common love for music—the only piece of information Ma revealed about him. Or maybe I missed the idea of a father. Locking my emotions down, I swallowed the lump in my throat and followed Abby.

“See, you can get up. I knew it.” She mocked me with her eyes, and I groaned. “Your guitar is safe here, Andy. Trust me.”

Why I did, I had no idea. But after the conversations I overheard and the hot chocolate episode, everything about Abby screamed sincerity. I refused to give in too easily though because a part of me took pleasure in messing with her on purpose.

I kept a straight face when I asked, “And I’m supposed to believe you because?”

She sighed and halted until we faced each other.

I pinched my lips together, trying to not laugh at her serious expression.

“Do I look like I’m about to murder you?” She tipped a hip forward and lifted one eyebrow. “C’mon, answer me.” Oh, she meant business, and it somehow made her even more attractive.

“Huh…no. But that’s not the point.”

“Well, do I look like a thief?”

“What? No. Who knows. What do thieves look like anyway? When you’re a crook, the whole idea is to not look like one.”

She shrugged. “Maybe. No idea. Anyway, if I wanted to rob someone, I’d go for something super expensive, not something with sentimental value. Be realistic.”

“Okay, you have a point.”

“And did I attack you when you closed your eyes for a grand total of ten point three seconds?”