Ice, Ice Maybe?

Emilia

The scene outside her window had become a snow globe. As if some tremendous invisible hand picked up the world, with the giddiness of a child, and shaken everything up to watch the feathery flakes swirl and blanket the earth in sheets of glittering white.

Emilia watched the blizzard from the safety of her apartment, knowing she would have no chance of making it to Melanie’s for Christmas.

Blustery winds sprayed snow in all directions, drifts taller than she had built up while she slept, and her heart sank at the thought of spending the Holiday alone.

Her breath fogged the windowpane as she squinted into the storm. A shadow flickered through the white. There, then gone. Someone was out there.

She shook her head, shivering as even inside her hands were cold, and observed the figure approaching the entrance to her apartment block.

It wasn’t until she spied the bright red eyes beside the man that she realized it was her grumpy neighbor. He would always be alone.

Despite her many attempts to start a conversation, he acknowledged her greetings and never paused to chat for longer than a few seconds—often with a glint of annoyance flashing in his dark eyes.

The man never outright ignored her. Never acted rudely; he didn’t seem to enjoy small talk. But he often took in her packages when she was gone or dragged her trash can out on pickup day when she forgot, which was nearly every time.

He would buzz her in when she forgot her key to the main door. Never complained either, but that would require him to say more than a simple hello or nod in recognition.

It didn’t hurt that he was pretty to look at, all pale skin, dark eyes, and hair, shorter than her ex’s and most likely younger, too. Sharp cheekbones, and an almost sad lilt to his arresting features.

A neatly trimmed beard framed his plump mouth—she often wondered how it would feel under her nails.

Soft or prickly? The few words he gifted her in that roughened, Scottish accent stuck in her memory because of their rarity. She often tried to pull more from him, a futile endeavor mainly.

Still, on occasion, he asked if she needed help with her shopping if he caught her coming back from the city. Sweet. Kind. Her eyes widened as his gaze swung to her window.

All she could make out were black eyes and a strip of pale skin. He was bundled up so thoroughly, and she admired his care for his pet because she would never have walked the gorgeous beast in that weather.

Her heart kicked up as he lifted a gloved hand in greeting, automatically returning it with a small smile as he vanished inside the building. His flat lay beside hers, and she wondered if the blizzard had also scuppered his holiday plans.

The unforeseen storm had canceled all flights, trains, and other out-of-town options.

Unable to ignore the disappointment settling in her, she wrapped her cardigan tighter around herself and slid into her armchair, picking up her phone to read her friend’s and family’s responses to her bad news.

Her friends were more upset than her brother and mom. They were jetting off to Bali as was custom and wouldn’t have time to miss her.

Oliver promised to turn her green with envy when he returned with stories from the beach and nightlife she dearly missed.

Melanie’s outrage and promise to come dig her out herself made her giggle as she told her dearest friend to enjoy herself and that she would see her as soon as possible.

The TV offered nothing but updates on the weather, more cancelations, and warnings to shelter until it ended. It rankled her, and she flicked through the channels until she found a random reality show and settled in for the brain rot.

Her mind wheeled as a group of women competed to marry some generic-looking man, wishing she booked earlier flights and berating herself for letting everyone down.

She knew Mel would slap her, tell her she was welcome anytime, and not to worry about a silly blizzard. But her chest tightened as the snowflakes gathered on her windowsill, and she was already sick of it.

Melancholy was a cloak around her shoulders as she drummed her fingers on her armrest, and she couldn’t stand it.

Determined not to sit in misery, she rose to her feet, if she was to spend Christmas alone, she would make it count and hurried to shove shoes and a coat on. Her decorations were in the shared basement below their apartments.

Grabbing her keys, she left after locking up and cast a long glance at her silent neighbor’s door as she headed to the stairwell and raced down to the bottom level, shuddering as it was freezing, despite her puffy coat.

Turning on the light, blinking as the darkness cleared to reveal the mammoth space filled with forgotten memories.

She followed the dirty path to where she’d stashed the decorations last year, moving aside someone’s broken bike and an old milky mirror to get to it.

There wasn’t much, some tangled lights, an artificial Christmas tree, and the accompanying baubles, tinsel, and a large star. She couldn’t carry it all at once and grabbed the six-foot tree first.

She hadn’t even taken it apart before throwing it in there and resorted to cuddling it to carry it out of the basement to the stairwell.

The many fake green branches obscured her vision, taking each stair at a crawl as she shuffled and tried not to lose her grip on the tree, her hands going clammy when she missed a step and nearly toppled back down.

Breathing hard, she reached the landing, and clumsily, she searched for the door handle with one hand.

Grousing under her breath, she opened and closed the door twice before she gave up and hurled herself through it, crashing into a man-shaped brick wall.

She and the tree bounced back and fell in opposite directions as instinct kicked in, letting it go to catch herself.

She landed with a teeth-clacking thud and her head spun as someone hauled her back up, gripping her upper arm firmly.

Her cheeks heated as she locked eyes with her neighbor, noticing a slight hint of amusement in his dark eyes before it disappeared.

He released her once he was sure she was steady on her feet.

Her arm tingled and warmed as she willed away the blush on her face.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t expect anyone to be there,” she said, mumbling and avoiding his eye as he looked her over and tilted his head.

“I heard the door slammin’ and thought I’d give you a hand.”

His accent seemed more potent than usual, every word coated in gravel as she hunted for something to say and recover her dignity, but he beat her to it.

“Is there anything else bigger than you down there you’d like me to help with?”

Was he teasing her? His face never changed, but there was a distinct note of playfulness in his tone, and she wished she hadn’t been so lazy last year.

If she’d taken the tree apart, this wouldn’t have happened.

Since she didn’t possess a time machine or common sense she shook her head and cleared her throat.

“No, just some bags I can grab once I take my poor tree inside,” she jested, looking away from his lovely face and jerking her head toward the fake evergreen lying on its side at the end of the hallway.

He nodded, eyes roaming over her as if checking for an injury, before he said, “If you need help, give me a shout.”

She frowned. “I don’t even know your name.”

“Luke.”

Smiling, she rolled the name around her mind and committed it to memory. Her own mouth opened before she could stop herself.

“It’s about time, Luke. I’m Emilia.”

He gave her a strange down-turned smile that made her belly dip.

“I know,” he said, leaving her blinking after him, feeling like a fool as she remembered all the times he held onto her mail.