Emilia walks through the front door as if she lives here, a smile on her face, a ceaseless bounce in her step. She’s more bubbly than usual, trotting over to my dad and offering one of her natural embraces.
“Hey Emily,” he greets her.
“Mr. H,” she chirps, trotting over to me. “Steven, you ready yet?”
“Nearly. I’m guessing you are,” I say as I hug her one-armed.
“I could hardly sleep! I had plenty of time to pack.” Her arms go up, palms toward me with emphasis.
“Alright, well here’s the keys. Go put your stuff in the back.”
“Thank you,” she lilts the two short words and skips out the door as quickly as she came. My dad walks to me as I force the zipper closed on my overused duffle.
“So, how long you two staying?” he says with a hinting grin.
My dad is under the assumption Emilia and I will fall in love someday. We’ve been neighbors for fourteen years, and through that time, our families have become good friends. My mother and hers are always out together, trying pottery classes, yoga, or Zumba - whatever the hell that is. Emilia doesn’t have a dad, but mine has made no reservations about treating her like the long-lost daughter he never had.
We graduated together two years ago, and though we went on to attend different universities, Emilia is still one of my best friends, time and distance unhindering that fact. We haven’t seen each other much lately, so during this semester break, we decided to visit our parents and be neighbors again like old times.
While it may seem like the ideal beginning for a young romance, that couldn’t be farther from the truth. Emilia is into girls and has been since her ‘appiphany’ during our freshman year of high school. She’s as beautiful as every girl-next-door ought to be, and while once I was attracted to her, her sexuality forces those thoughts to the back burner. I know nothing will ever happen between us - which is fine with me - but my dad seems convinced otherwise. And he knows she’s a lesbian. I guess he just sees our unfailing friendship as a means to something more.
I sigh through a smile.
“Only a few days. We’ll be back by Monday.”
“You hear the weather’s supposed to hit hard tonight?”
“That’s why we’re leaving now - to beat it. Then while we’re there, the mountain will have plenty of fresh snow.” Only yesterday did Emilia and I decide to head to Aspen, the best place for winter sports. When we heard about the upcoming storm, it was only logical that we make use of it.
“Alright, just drive safe.”
“I will.”
“And don’t have too much fun.” My dad winks at me as he walks away, and all I can do is shake my head.
I love Emilia like family, and I’m glad she gets along with my dad, but I wish he liked my other girlfriends as much. Sometimes it’s hard feeling like no matter who I bring home they will always be measured up against the one girl I can’t have.
Emilia gets cozy in the passenger seat, her knit leggings and sweater both adhering to her curves, the fuzzy socks on her feet tucked under her as I drive us out of town. The clouds are low and grey as we put miles behind us, listening to our high school playlist and laughing way too hard.
Though it’s only five o’clock, it’s dark by the time we make it to the resort office, courtesy of the winter weather. After checking in, they hand us our key, and we drive another two miles to reach the cabin. It’s just starting to snow as we haul our luggage inside the small rented cottage, stomping our boots at the entrance.
I ignite and prod the tinder until the logs in the fireplace begin burning, then join Emilia in the room. We talk as we unpack, the single bed remaining unacknowledged. We used to sleep on each other’s couches growing up. We figured sharing a bed wouldn’t be all that different.
Emilia wraps herself in a blanket before she pours us drinks.
“I l-l-learned in freshman year that if you d-d-drink, it warms you up.” She’s shivering as she hands me a short glass, and I laugh.
“Expands the blood vessels,” I confirm.
“It fucking b-b-better.”
We sit in front of the crackling flames, watching the falling snow outside. It’s really coming down now, only the light from the fireplace pinching the dark room. Passing the time on the sofa, our conversation lulls between humorous and serious, the topic of our most recent year of college straddling the line between both.
I tell stories of the nights I partied and the girls I met, as well as me nearly failing philosophy. I binged an entire night of no sleep to write my final thesis, and it gave me the grade I needed. Emilia vents about her attempt to be better this year, vowing to study before anything else, and it has paid off, her grades more sharp than a tac. Her love life is the one that’s failing at the moment.
“College girls are fun. And I mean fun, but that’s all. They have no sense of commitment or responsibility. Most of the time they’re just experimenting, which is fine with me,” she says, hinting at many limb-entwined nights. “But sometimes I’d like to meet a girl that isn’t as fake as a wax museum.”
“I don’t know, maybe you shouldn’t be focused on something serious right now. You’re young. You should go experiment, too.”
“Oh, you think so?”
“Maybe you’ll like it.”
“That’s what I say to the curious girls who end up in my bed,” Emilia says, and we both laugh.
In the morning, we both wake fresh and eager for some snowboarding. When we look out the window, our jaws drop.
The storm the weatherman foretold was larger than anyone expected. It snowed almost three feet last night, and it’s still coming down.
“Holy shit,” Emilia says, breaking the shocked silence.
“Holy shit is right,” I agree, watching chunks of fluff rain down on the already piling powder - far as the eye can see. The line of it has nearly reached our windowsill. If I opened the glass right now, I wouldn’t have to lean far to scoop up a handful of snow.
“I wonder if we’ll be stuck here,” Emilia muses. I tilt my head in a way that says ‘you might be right’. Then, I exit to the main room, Emilia following. I unlock the front door, pulling it open no more than an inch, and on the other side is a small wall of snow threatening to come in. I shut the door again, the image of my buried SUV lingering.
“Yeah, not sure we’re going anywhere any time soon.”
As I speak, the phone in the corner starts ringing. Emilia gets it first. I listen to the conversation through her, and the verdict is what she predicted. With the snow still coming down, the plows can't get through the small roads to the cabins. They were barely able to clear off the walkways at the main office, and the town outside the resort is basically shut down, no one daring to go anywhere until the downpour stops.
They asked if we needed any provisions, to which Emilia replied ‘no'. We made sure to stock up with food before coming. Cheaper that way anyway. She says they promised to call again when the plows go out, or if any other news should arise.
“Well, looks like we're snowed in,” Emilia snickers. “I've never actually been ‘snowed in' anywhere before.”
“Enjoying it?”
“The company could be worse.” She shrugs, backing toward the kitchen.
“Aw, you’re so sweet,” I reply facetiously, pulling out the fixings for coffee. I’m just glad we didn’t leave anything in the car last night.
“I shouldn’t answer that yet, though,” Emilia continues. “You’ll probably end up driving me crazy.”
“Should I start writing a novel?” I jest.
“Oh my god, what if this is like one of those horror scenarios? You know, we get snowed in and tonight the resort will call and tell us there’s a killer on the loose.”
“Ok, no more scary movies for you,” I say, and we both laugh.
Instead of skiing and boarding like we wanted to, we spend the day watching movies and playing chess. We both talked to our parents earlier, assuring them we were fine, just immobile.
“At least there’ll be plenty of snow for tomorrow,” Emilia says hopefully, but by the time the sun is down, the storm still hasn’t stopped.
When nighttime hits, Emilia and I on the sofa by the fireplace, each with a drink in our hand. We’re trying to use our firewood sparingly, but tonight certainly calls for it.
“Be honest, you’ve never been with a guy?” I ask, and Emilia laughs.
“Have you ever been with a guy, Steve?” she fires back, and I cringe twice. She knows I prefer ‘Steven’ over ‘Steve’.
“God, no.”
“That’s how I feel.”
“Hey, we’re not that bad.”
“You’re not trying to turn me, are you?” Our back-and-forth remains light, teasing one another like always.
“I was only curious,” I assure. “Straight girls tend to, as you say, ‘experiment’ with other girls in college. I was wondering if lesbians ever get the urge to experiment with guys.”
“Do straight guys ever get the urge to experiment in college?”
“That is not the same.”
“Stop being so sexist,” she laughs.
“Ok, you’re right. Your question was fair. So to answer that: Some guys might, but definitely not me.”
“Then I’d have to answer the same. Maybe some lesbians try the flesh pole, but not me.”
“Flesh pole?”
“It’s an insider’s term,” she says, and we laugh again.
Finishing off three glasses each, we crawl into bed and pray the snow will let up before tomorrow.
It was a vain hope.
The next morning it is still snowing, though it’s coming down much softer. The resort calls to say the plows are going out today, but it may be a while before they reach us. They allay their resort is open, though there aren’t many on the lift today anyway. There’s so much powdery snow, people’s skis are just sinking. Via the news, we learn this is the biggest storm Colorado has had in forty-two years.
Emilia and I pass the time again, beginning to get restless in the small cabin. She exercises for a bit while I read, wishing I had the foresight to bring my computer. I figured I wouldn’t have time to use it. When she exits the bedroom in nothing but a towel, I have a hard time looking away. She said she was going to shower after her workout, but I didn’t expect to see her wet-haired and bare-shouldered.
The edge of the terry cloth rides up her thighs as she reaches into a cupboard, and when she turns, I thankfully remember to avert my gaze. After a minute, she comes to sit beside me.
“Yep, I’m officially going crazy.” All I can think about is her barely being sheathed by that towel.
“It’s only been two days,” I try to assure.
“Two days too long. I was hoping for some action.” She tilts her head with a sigh, and my shameless eyes find her damp collarbones. Emilia is every guy’s wet dream. And hell, some girls, too. She’s slim yet round in all the best places, her blonde hair past her shoulders, eyelashes dark around her almond eyes.
Fuck, if my best friend weren’t a lesbian, I’d give her some action.
“I think I’m gonna shower, too,” I declare, getting up from the couch.
“I hope there’s still hot water,” she says honestly. I pull off my shirt, then turn back to her.
“Guess I’ll find out.”
Emilia’s eyes take me in for a moment before I smile all my teeth at her. In the light of day, I can see her blush.
I think about this as I hop in the shower, the water warm for now. Emilia says she has no interest in being with a guy. When I originally asked her why girls, she said it’s likely the same reason I’m attracted to them. Their softness, pinkness, the delicate way they are. Women simply appeal to her.
I wonder, then, why she was looking at me just now. It’s probably because I’ve changed a bit over the last year. I used to be scrawny, and though my build is naturally wirey, I’ve been toning up. Where softness used to be, muscle now resides, my tan even since I’m no longer insecure about taking my shirt off.
I’ve never been an athlete, but if I’ve tried anything new since college, it would be sports. That was news to Emilia when she saw me recently, commenting on how great I look. I contemplate how good she’s looking as I’m in the shower.
I know I shouldn’t because, fuck, it’s wrong, but my lesbian friend occupies the center of my conscious as I masturbate in the steaming stream. I think about how tight she probably is, stroking liquid soap over my cock. There’s something about her inexperience with guys that turns me on. She hasn’t been used by a man before, all her holes untouched by the grace of some horny guy. I’ll admit it - we can be nasty when we want to be.
I like thinking no man’s ever cum inside her before. I also like thinking about how she would be with a woman. Emilia is probably an animal in bed. It’s imagining her riding another girl’s tongue that sets me off, and I try not to grunt aloud.
I curse myself when the water turns cold.
In the evening, it’s obvious the plows won’t make it to us until tomorrow. We open the cupboard stocked with board games and choose one, playing until Emilia knocks her piece over.
“I give up!”
“Frustrated much?” I tease, gloating my win.
“You have no idea.” It’s uncharacteristically quiet between us for a moment as I put the board back in the box.
“Well,” Emilia says, hopping off the floor. “I’m gonna try and get some sleep.” I can’t help but chuckle a little. She doesn’t seem tired in the slightest.
“Ok.” I glance up at her, and she’s glaring at me through a smile.
“Goodnight, Steven.”
“Goodnight, Emilia.”
She shuts the door and I’m alone. In an effort to give her the privacy she needs, I put in a movie and grab myself another beer, preparing to sit tight. I know why she ‘went to bed’. I had to do the same for myself earlier. Difficult as being stuck in this cabin is, being with your attractive best friend is even more trying. If I was here with a lover, I’d have more than a few ideas to pass the time.
When my movie’s over, I debate sleeping on the couch. Give Emilia some space. That bed is much more comfortable than this small couch though, and she’s probably asleep by now anyway.
The door doesn’t creak when I sneak into the room, for which I’m grateful. The only noise is coming from Emilia. She gasps softly when I enter, moving around under the blankets.
“Shit, I’m sorry, I thought you’d be asleep-”
“Fuck,” she curses through heaving breath.
“I’m sorry,” I apologize again, stepping to leave the room.
“It’s not you,” she sighs.
“Are you alright?”
“Yes, just… having a hard time.”
“With?” I feel her gaze through the dark room, looking at me like I’m stupid.
“I’m sure you know,” she concedes, and it’s followed by a dead bout of silence.
“… Do you need help?” My words are a piercing through what was probably our undefiled friendship. Emilia sits up in bed. All she can do is stare at me.
“What?” she finally says, looking unamused. I shrug one shoulder.
“Just offering some help.”
“Steven…” She shakes her head.
“I’m sorry, I’m not trying to be an asshole, I swear. You’re my friend, I just… want to help.”
She sits chewing her lip in silence for a moment.
“I never expected you to offer something like this…” The disappointment in her voice makes my heart sink.
“I’m sorry, I’m not trying to pressure you or make you upset.” She doesn’t reply. “It’s this damn cabin,” I say, cursing it. Emilia looks up at me. “Being stuck in the same room together for three days was not my idea. Don’t get me wrong, I love spending time with you, Em. It’s just… being so close… You know I think you’re beautiful. I always have. Even when I tried to kiss you when we were fourteen, and you stopped me.” I laugh a little. “I knew you weren’t into me, and I accepted that. I still accept that. This isn’t some ploy to get in bed with you. I genuinely want to help you out.”