Snack (9 page)

“I just need to run and do a couple of things,” I say and then add formally, “Make yourself at home.”

Snack laughs. “I always do.”

I sprint to the bathroom to pee and brush my teeth.

When I return, Snack is sitting cross-legged on my bed. He’s made himself comfortable just as I suggested. There’s a tray in the middle of my comforter with a sumptuous breakfast of orange juice and chocolate chip Eggos drenched in butter and maple syrup.

“Hi!” he says.

“Hi!” I reply more comfortable now that I’ve used the bathroom.

“I brought you breakfast.”

“I see. Very fancy. I didn’t know you knew how to cook… or toast,” I add as I pick up an Eggo.

Snack leans forward and takes a bite of the Eggo, his lips swiping across my fingers as they retreat. He licks some of the buttery syrup left behind off his lips.

Zing! My heart takes over. I toss the Eggo back on the tray and launch myself onto Snack. I can’t kiss him fast enough. I push him back on my Star Wars pillows, amused that his face is right next to the one of Han Solo printed on my pillowcase. Nerd girl nirvana. Snack kisses me back with a kind of passionate enthusiasm I’ve only read about.

He softly kisses my upper lip and then traps my lower lip between his teeth in a soft bite. Soon his tongue is moving languidly over mine.

Every neuron in my lips, my mouth, and my body is firing. There is a warmth pooling low in my abdomen. I arch my body into his and slide my leg up one of his. The roughness of his jeans against my bare legs arouses me further, causing the fine hairs on my entire body to stand up. Snack slips his hand under my sweatshirt and tank top to my lower back. I’m keenly aware of his pinkie touching the edge of the waistband of my boxers. Somewhere on the periphery of my awareness I hear the phone ringing. It’s beyond easy to ignore considering my current situation.

Loud knocks on my bedroom door startle us, and Snack and I jump to the edge of the bed.

I quickly straighten any dishevelment of my clothes and then yell, “Come in!”

The latch unclicks and the door to my bedroom swings open. My dad is standing in the doorway with an undecipherable look on his face.

“Snack,” he intones flatly. “I didn’t know you were here.”

I can’t tell what Dad is thinking. Mad? Upset? Are we going to be in trouble for being alone together in my room? It’s not like it’s so unusual. I mean, sure, every time before it was just hanging out, not making out, but still.

My dad takes a seat on the bed next to me.

I’m uncomfortable, so much so that my skin crawls and I shudder. Snack and I were just making out in this very spot. I’m working hard to control my breathing. I don’t know about Snack, but it’s not easy to slam on the brakes that quickly.

My dad puts his arm around me and tells me to hold Snack’s hand. “Guys, I don’t know how to tell you this, but I just got a phone call from your mom, Snack. Charlotte Carpenter’s parents have been looking for you.” My dad squeezes his arm around me tighter.

“Why?” Snack asks, his voice thin and confused.

“Charlotte didn’t come home last night.”

“What?” Snack twists his body to look at my father and me. “She went home with Adam. I saw them leave together.”

My dad continues to look at the floor, not us. “Yeah… um, Adam and Charlotte were in a bad wreck. Evidently, they decided to go driving around after homecoming… Snack weren’t you supposed to drive Charlotte home?”

“Yes, Gil, sir, yes, I was, but we broke up at the dance… and then I went and found Minnie with Adam… Is? Are they all right?” Snack’s eyes widen and the color drains from his face.

My dad sighs. “No, they’re not. Evidently, Adam lost control of the car… probably speeding. Charlotte wasn’t wearing a seatbelt.”

I can’t stop my entire body from shaking, even though my dad is holding me firmly.

Snack interjects with a thick mumble. “She doesn’t like them.”

“They went off the road and down an embankment,” Dad continues. “Adam has a broken arm and both his legs are damaged. Charlotte was more seriously injured.”

“She’s alive, isn’t she?” My words tremble.

“Yes,” my dad replies quietly, but not hopefully.

“This is all my fault!” Snack stands quickly from the bed and goes to the door of my room. “I need to go over to the Carpenter’s.”

My dad gets up and goes to him. “They’re at the hospital with Charlotte. She was airlifted to Children’s Memorial in the city.”

Snack breaks down in huge gulping sobs that rock his whole body. Then out of nowhere he slams his fist into my bedroom door. When he pulls his hand back, it’s scraped and bloody. My father grabs him and holds him, whispering something to him.

I do nothing. I don’t know what to do. I just stare at the scene in front of me. How could I possibly be so happy one minute and paralyzed with fear and sadness the next?

I barely register when Snack and my dad leave, other than Dad kissing me on the top of my head. I vaguely recall nodding when Dad asked me to stay at home with Sid.

I started the day the happiest I’ve ever been. And now, I’m alone and scared.

Well, not completely alone, because I can hear Sid blasting Mario Kart in the other room. Even though he pisses me off most of the time, I suddenly miss Clip and wish he wasn’t away at college.

When the tears come, they gush from between my lashes. I don’t exactly know who or what they are for. Charlotte? Snack? Me? Sounds I’ve never heard before come out of me. Thankfully, Sid’s game is loud enough that he doesn’t notice.

Soft licking on my bare shoulder wakes me. My brain races to keep up with the rate my body is waking up. Where am I? Oh, that’s right. The loft above SNACKS. And I’m in bed… with Snack. I slept so deeply once I let my tiredness overtake me, like sleeping next to Snack was the safest most natural place for me to be.

Lick. Lick. As much as I wish the licking was Snack, it isn’t. I know only too well, it’s Wookiee. Licking me on the face, neck, or shoulder is his way of waking me up in the early morning to go out. The strange thing about this is, he’s snuggled
behind
my shoulder, licking it. Which means he’s sleeping
between
Snack and me. Wook never, ever wants to sleep between Henry and me. He sleeps on the furthest corner of the bed away from us and only comes up to the top of the bed in the morning to wake me. Only if Henry is out of town will Wookiee cuddle down next to me in bed. Maybe Wookiee can sense something I haven’t allowed myself to fully acknowledge yet. Maybe Henry isn’t the one for us. For me. I’ve heard animals are perceptive like that. It just figures Wookiee has snuggled up to Snack. It seems even tiny purse dogs, male ones at that, are attracted to Snack.

I turn to pet Wookiee and stop the cleansing of my shoulder. Behind Wookiee’s cute face is another one. Snack’s. He’s still dead to the world. He finally looks unworried and less tired. Gorgeous boy. His blond hair and beard gleam under the rays of moonlight streaming through the cracks in the blinds. The corners of his lips are turned up. I wonder what he’s dreaming of.

Looking a little more closely, I see that Snack is no longer wearing the thermal he had on when he came to bed after taking off his sweater. I, too, only have on my tank top and boy shorts. The memory of feeling too warm in the middle of the night and pulling my top and leggings off and throwing them from the bed returns. I guess we were both exhausted, because neither of us seemed to have awakened and acknowledged the other stripping. Too bad! Jesus, Min, what are you doing? The man is in mourning, grieving his dead wife, the mother of his children, and you’re bemoaning the fact that you didn’t have a midnight hookup!

Wook nudges me insistently with his cold, wet nose. There is no escaping it. I have to get up and walk the furball. I roll to the edge of the bed, sit up, and grab a glass of water that Snack must have placed on the bedside table at some point last night. The water is cool and alerting. I rub my eyes a couple of times and stand up. Wookiee stretches and pads over to me, strutting across the duvet when I pat my thigh to tell him it’s time to get up and go out to do his business. Hopefully the snow has stopped falling, so he won’t have to resort to the newspaper. I softly shush him, knowing he occasionally barks when he wants me to move faster. I don’t want him to wake Snack.

Through the large, arched window in the kitchen/dining area, I see nothing but white. I scoop up Wookiee and walk over to look out. Downtown Downers Grove looks as if it’s been under assault by the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man. Even as dark as it still is outside, I can see it’s a white, puffy marshmallow world of new fallen snow reflecting the dwindling moonlight. Apparently, I’ve awoken on the ice planet Hoth. It’s very quiet. I can’t hear any cars or people. When I glance at the clock in the kitchen, it tells me it’s 5:37. About Wookiee’s usual wake-up time. The usual early morning coffee drinkers probably won’t be in anytime soon since the city snowplows, apparently, haven’t even come through.

I whisper to Wookiee, “Come on. Let’s go out.” I place him on the floor and he skitters over to the chair where my purse is. He knows his leash is in there. I dig it out and snap it on him. Then I dress him in his red and black buffalo check winter jacket. I smirk while putting his jacket on, knowing this walk will be extremely brief, if it can even be considered a walk at all.

I snatch my jeans up from beside the bed and pull them on, pluck Snack’s large sweater from the floor, throw it over my head, and shove my feet into my boots. Picking Wookiee up, we tiptoe down the stairs and go to the front door. Fortunately, Snack only set the deadlock, so I don’t need a key to open it. There’s about two feet right in front of the building that is untouched by the massive snowdrifts left from the storm thanks to the awning over the front entrance. I place Wookiee on the ground and he does his business.

“Good boy, Wookiee. What a good boy. Now, come on, let’s go in”

Wookiee doesn’t move.

“Wookiee, come on! I’m cold.
You’re
cold. Let’s go!

He looks up at me with wide eyes and stands there shivering, then barks a piercing, demanding bark. He wants me to come get him. Dammit! I really didn’t want to have to walk out of the doorway. It’s fucking colder than a Tauntaun’s left nut out here. I give into the tiny monarch’s command and walk the two feet to pick him up. When I turn to walk back into the café, a sudden gust of icy wind cause the door to slam and I’m suddenly covered in an ice-cold wet blanket.

“FUCK!” I think and then immediately say aloud. Looking up, I see the force of the door slam triggered a pile of snow to cut loose from the awning and land on me.

“Well, shit!” I shake off as much as I can, but some of it’s down the back of the sweater.

Quickly, with Wookiee under my arm, I rush back into the café. Setting him down to the floor carefully, but firmly, I shake my finger at him. “Dammit, dog. You couldn’t walk back in? I had to come get you?” Unmoved my by admonition, Wookiee shakes off any wetness that fell on him. I do the same. I need to get out of these damp clothes and get warm.

Tiptoeing back up to the loft, I take the dog’s coat and leash off. His feet are wet and so are my hair, neck, and back. I need a towel. It’s still pretty dark up here, and I move gingerly so I won’t crash into anything and wake Snack.

Suddenly, a light pops on. I jump and grab my chest, pulling my damp Yorkie closer. Some sort of unintelligible scream escapes my lips.

Snack is propped up on a bunch of pillows in the bed, the soft glow of the bedside lamp casting shadows on all the beautiful bulges and valleys of his undressed upper body. He must have taken off the thermal while I was out with Wookiee. In a word: He looks edible.

I consciously acknowledge that I’m number one, speechless. And number two, filled with unbridled hunger. A not unpleasant heat floods my core. I audibly exhale.

“What happened to you?” Snack chuckles and points to my hair.

I must look a mess. All my desire leaves me muddled, and I trip and stutter as I tell him about Wookiee not coming in and being accosted by a blob of snow. I pull Snack’s sweater off and survey it for damage. It doesn’t look too wet. I hang it over a chair to dry.

When I look back up at Snack, I’m taken aback by his change of mood. His smile vanishes and his eyes grow dark and heavy. He shifts slightly in bed and lets his gaze move all over my body. The remaining clothes I have on, my tank top and skinny jeans, don’t leave much to the imagination. His stare makes me feel even more naked.

Snack pulls back the duvet on the side of the bed I was sleeping in and pats the mattress. “You need to get warm. Get in bed.” Snack’s voice is low and serious.

Get in bed. The same words he said last night. Somehow, I don’t think they mean quite the same thing this morning. Everything in me wants to rush over and slide between the sheets. The magnetic tug toward him is strong.

“Uh-OK.” Again, I stumble over my words. “I, uh, I’m just gonna wipe Wookiee’s feet and towel off my hair.” I point over my shoulder and then spin in place to march into the bathroom. “Be right back.”

“Don’t be too long,” Snack yells as I shut the door.

Oh. My. God. What’s happening? Is something going to happen or does he just want to talk. Am I just imagining the way he looked over my body? I think I want something to happen. Is that OK, considering what Snack’s been going through? I peel off my soggy jeans, robotically towel off my hair and wipe the areas of my body that are wet. I dry Wook’s paws as best I can. Taking a look in the mirror, I wipe the mascara smudges from under my eyes. Pee! I should pee. I do it quickly and then stand to wash my hands. While doing so I look up in the mirror again and smack my lips. Dry mouth. Probably morning breath, too. Opening the medicine cabinet, I survey it for toothpaste and find some in no time. I also see two toothbrushes, but I don’t know whose they are, so I just squeeze out a bit of paste and scrub it on my teeth with my finger and then swish it around. After spitting, I look in the mirror again. I catch myself breathing in low pants. I realize I’m taking my time because of the uncertainty of what will happen when I walk out of the bathroom.