2. Erik

Chapter 2

Erik

I watch Lissy as she moves around the cabin, her eyes wide with a mix of wonder and skepticism. She grazes her fingers across some of the knick-nacks that are strewn about the cabin. The fire I've started bathes the room in a soft, golden glow, and for a moment, I allow myself to admire her. She's beautiful, in a way that's not just about her looks. There's a strength in her, a resilience that's always fascinated me. “Are you hungry?” I ask her.

“I could eat. What are the options?”

“Not much I’m afraid, you only packed cereal, and snack bars, no milk though for the cereal.”

“I wasn’t meant to bring the meals, that was Austin and Bree’s thing, remember?”

“Yeah, well. I did bring a few things. Let’s go unpack my snacks bag and see what we can scrounge up.”

We decide to make the best of the ingredients into a cohesive meal, working in an awkward silence. The clatter of pots and pans fills the air, along with the smell of cooking food. Cooking over an open fire is not a forte of mine. I try to make conversation, “How has your social media empire been coming along?” She answers with short, clipped words, “fine…good.”

I catch a glimpse of passion in her eyes when she talks about her work. It's these glimpses that make me want to know more about her, beyond the online persona. I’ve always wanted to, if I’m being honest. I just never thought she’d give someone like me the time of day.

Dinner is a simple affair, but it feels like a feast. Brick noodles, some beef jerky, a bit of olive oil, and a can of peas, we found in the cupboard, and voila.

Turns out, when you’re cold and hungry, just about anything tastes good. The storm rages outside, but inside, it's just us and the comforting sound of the wind against the cabin.

I watch Lissy as she eats, her guard slowly coming down. There's a moment when our eyes meet, and something unspoken passes between us. It's fleeting, but it leaves me with a warmth that has nothing to do with the fire. “I couldn’t possibly eat another bite.” I watch as she sets her paper plate down on the little coffee table we sat cross legged at to eat.

“Let me get that then. Waste not want not and all of that.”

I gather our plates, my movements efficient in the small space. The cabin, lit by the dim glow of the candles and the fire, feels like a world apart. The storm's howl is a distant echo, less threatening now.

"Thanks for dinner," Lissy says, her voice softer than the winds outside.

I nod, a small smile playing on my lips. "It's not every day you get to have a makeshift feast in a cabin during a snowstorm," I replied, my tone light.

There’s a depth in her eyes that I haven’t seen before. It touches my soul in a way that almost startles me.

As I tidy up, I find myself glancing over at her, noticing little things I hadn't before. The way her hair falls slightly over her face, the slight furrow of concentration as she reads.

It's strange, this shift in dynamics. Just a few days ago, we were merely acquaintances, bound by a shared group of friends. Now, in this forced closeness, I'm seeing sides of her I never knew existed.

"You know, you're not at all what I expected," she blurted out, surprising even herself by the looks of it.

I look over at her with a smirk hiding my own surprise. "Is that a good thing?" I ask, half-joking, half-serious.

She pauses, considering my question. The warmth from the fire envelopes us, creating a cocoon against the cold world outside. "Yeah, it is," She admits, feeling a vulnerability she might not be used to.

I smile, genuine and warm, and for a moment, the barriers between us seem to melt away. We're just two people, finding comfort in each other's company, away from the rest of the world.

"Well, I'm glad," I say, sitting back down beside her. The fire crackles, a comfortable soundtrack to this unexpected moment of connection.