I was able to get through until lunch time with cough drops and about a million cups of hot water and lemon. Friday has the resort busy and lively; the parking lot reaching capacity, the lodge filled with skiers and snowboarders, and popular music blasting through the speakers. The atmosphere is positive and my mood is happy. My mind wanders to Brian ever so often, but they’re pleasant thoughts of last night’s dinner on the balcony of Chateau Fairmont. I hope he’s made it to Calgary safely. I’m waiting for my next day group and decide to shoot him a quick text.

Hey Bri, let me know if you’ve made into the city safely. Xoxo, London.

I wait a few minutes, no response. Hmm. I shrug it off when my group arrives and am distracted for the rest of the day. At the end of my shift, I’m assigned to regulatory runs again with the ski-do and Christian joins me at the top of Goat’s Eye Mountain. The sky is cloudy with light snow. I stand on the ski-do and look around; no one but the first-aid emergency crew who are also doing their regulatory runs. I take this opportunity to check if Brian had texted back. My heart flutters when I see the new text icon. I open it eagerly, but it’s just a text from Linda who was ranting about a stubborn teenager earlier. My heart drops a little with disappointment but I try to force it out of my mind.

He’s not your boyfriend, he’s not your boyfriend. He doesn’t have to check up with you, London.

“See anyone?” Christian calls out to me and I shake my head in reply.

“Let’s do one more circle just in case then head back!”

He nods and we take off together down the mountain.

When I get home, Bronx is waiting for me eagerly and I take him out for a walk around the block. Still no text from Brian. I must admit, I’m a little bit irked at this. I mean, I know he doesn’t have to but the least he can do is let me know he’s safe. I don’t know how to react to this – I’ve never been irked by a friend not texting me back right away and it frustrates me more that I’m feeling this way than the fact that he hasn’t texted back.

Get a grip, London. Seriously, you need to chill out.

By dinner time, I begin to worry. What if something has happened? His fancy car isn’t exactly the most reliable in winter. Also, my sore throat has crept back up on me and feels a hundred times worse. I can feel myself burning up and decide to relax on the couch with some blankets and Friends on TV. It’s just past 8:00 when I hear a knock on the door.

My heart soars. Brian?

I nearly jump out of my seat, startling Bronx who’s curled up at my feet. I open the door with a big smile but there’s an unfamiliar face standing on the other side of it. He’s young, wearing a beige hat that reads “Evelyn’s Coffee Bar”. I frown; I hadn’t ordered anything from Evelyn’s.

“Can I help you?” I ask and he holds out a large brown paper bag and a steaming Styrofoam coffee cup.

“Delivery for London Cartier from a Mr-“ He squints at a piece of paper stapled to the paper bag. “Brian Littrell.”

Brian. Ever so unpredictable. I can’t help but smile. “Thank you,” I say, taking the paper bag and cup from him. “I’m afraid I don’t have cash on me though.”

“Already paid for, ma’am. He had it ordered earlier this morning to be sent to this address.” Oh, Brian.

I take the goodies into the kitchen and start taking the contents out of the bag. There’s a large container of warm chicken noodle soup – “For your throat,” a sticky note attached to the container says, an egg salad sandwich, and a smaller bag with a chocolate croissant in it with another sticky note that reads, “For tomorrow morning.” It makes me smile and I do a little happy dance in the kitchen like a fool. I look over at Bronx who’s regarding me with his head cocked to one side. I giggle. And then I realize what I’ve just done and collapse onto a chair. I’m acting like a giddy school girl. A giddy school girl in puppy love. I blow away a strand of hair that has fallen onto my face.

This can’t be good.

The next day, I’m feeling well enough to go to work. It’s a busy Saturday as usual, and I’m thankful that tomorrow is a day off for me. I still haven’t gotten any word from Brian and he hasn’t been back from the city. Worry still nags at the back of my mind, but a tiny part of me can’t help but be annoyed with him. I force it out of my mind; I won’t let Asshole Neighbour ruin my day.

And what a beautiful day it is; clear skies, fresh snow, and the temperature just right for some good runs on the slopes. The kids are all extremely excited and their laughter is contagious as they stumble and fall on their snowboards down the bunny hill. My mood is lifted instantly. We’ve also set up some fun activities, including obstacle courses and treasure hunts for the kid. For the more experienced adults, a mini snowboard competition in the terrain park with prizes and free giveaways. Linda and I are partnered up today, and being with her is bound to have some good laughs and silly girl conversations. All thoughts of Brian are temporarily forgotten and I’m having a great time at work.

The good times seem to fly by though because, next thing I know, the day is over and the last of the skiers are packing up their things. I’m not ready to go home though, feeling like the day is still young. It seemed I’m not the only one that felt that way because Mark brought up the idea of sticking around and having drinks at the lounge bar. The few of us that are left behind; including Linda, Kristen, and Christian from our sector and a handful of volunteers decide to stay. There are a few patrons in the lounge already who are staying overnight at the resort and we choose two tables situated right beside a large window that overlooks the beautiful sunset outside. I feel myself relaxing, my mood still happy. It’s such a great way to wind down from a busy day.

I order a pitcher of sangria to share with Linda and she doesn’t hesitate on the interrogation.

“So, I heard that you came to work the other day in style,” she says, her eyebrows raised and taking a sip of sangria.

“I always come to work in style.” I grin at her, taking a sip from my own cup and trying to joke my way through the Linda questionnaire. Her auburn hair is framing her face in waves, all bouncy and shiny with her large green eyes alight with humour. Even after a full day on the slopes, she manages to look gorgeous.

“Not in a Ferrari you don’t!” she remarks and giggles at the ‘I-don’t-know-what-you’re-talking-about’ expression on my face. “Do not even hide from me! I’m your best friend and I have the right to kick it out of you.”

I laugh at her. “Oh God, it was just a ride from Brian.”

“Brian!” she squeals and I kick her under the table as heads turn curiously toward us. I look up and catch Christian’s eye who’s regarding me with an unreadable expression. He looks away and continues to talk to Mark, but I have a feeling his ears are open.

“Can you please turn it down!” I hiss at her and she clamps her lips, trying to hide her growing smile.

“I thought he totally gave you the boot?”

I roll my eyes. “He kind of stayed over during the snowstorm,” I mumble incoherently and down my glass of sangria before filling my cup again.

“What?” Her eyes are wide now, body leaned across the table, and scrutinizing me. “London Cartier! And you didn’t tell me?”

I bite my lip and stare back. “I’m telling you now.”

“So?”

I shrug, not giving anything away.

“Oh, please.” She leans back, her arms crossed and studying me with a knowing smile on her face. “Just tell me you’ll be careful?”

I nod. “You know me, L.” I raise my glass to her. “Enough about boys. Here’s to coming to work in style every day.” She shakes her head, chuckling at me before clinking her glass with mine.

Mark calls for an employee shuttle at 10pm, the driver none too pleased with us. “Next time, just drink in the city!” he exclaims, but we’re all too filled with alcohol to care.

My head is swimming and I’m chewing on pieces of bread to soak up the alcohol in my system. Linda is talking animatedly on the phone with Renald, Mark is scaring the volunteers with horror stories about avalanches, Christian is occupying the bathroom in the back, while Kristen is passed out in the seat in front of me. I’m staring out the window, my thoughts slowly creeping back to Brian, when Christian appears out of nowhere and plops down beside me.

“Had a great time?” he asks, his mega-watt smile lighting up his face. His voice echoes in my ears, too loud for me at the moment. I nod silently, motioning to the bread that I’m trying to sober up with. He laughs. “So, who is this Brian guy?”

What the hell? The alcohol must have given him an extra boost of confidence because that question was without filter, he didn’t even hesitate. I shrug in response, trying to be nonchalant. “Just a neighbour.” I stifle a giggle when I see Linda’s head pop up out of one of the seats further in front, phone against ear, eyebrows raised at Christian and I.

“Just a neighbour who gives you rides to work in a Ferrari?” he questions and I narrow my eyes at him.

“Is there a problem with that?”

He shrugs and leans back in his seat, the grin back on his face. “I’m just saying, if I had given a girl a ride to work in my Ferrari, I wouldn’t just consider her my neighbour.”

I try to divert his questioning. “Do you have a Ferrari, too?” I ask stupidly, knowing it would distract him.

He laughs. “If I had a Ferrari, I would not be here. I’d be somewhere in the Gulf of Mexico or something.” He pauses. “What does that rich bastard do for a living anyway?”

“He sells drugs,” I reply with a straight face and he looks at me, surprised. The look on his face is so ridiculous that I have to laugh. He shakes his head at me and is about to say something but he’s interrupted by the driver.

“First stop!” he calls out unenthusiastically. I look out the window and realize we’re right in front of my house. I stand abruptly and am met with such a quick head rush that I sway and put a hand to my forehead.

“You okay, London?” Linda asks from her seat. “Do you need help?”

“No, I-“

“I’ll help her,” Christian volunteers and wraps an arm around my shoulders.

Great. Though I don’t contest because it would probably be smart to have someone assist me up my walkway. He helps me with my bags and follows me out of the shuttle. The cool night air hits me, a refreshing feeling on my warm face. I head up the road to the house and feel him put his arm around my shoulders again. My eyes are drooping. Fatigue is quickly taking over my body.

“I can take it from here,” a voice cuts into the air. It’s firm with an unmistakable Southern twang. Suddenly, my eyes are wide open and I’m awake again. We both turn around to see Brian striding quickly down the road, eyes burning into Christian’s.

“Thanks dude, but I got it,” Christian replies, his voice unchanging.

Brian smiles but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “The shuttle is waiting for you, don’t want to keep everyone waiting. It’s late,” he says coolly as he takes my bags from Christian whose face hardens. Christian nods and turns to head back inside the bus.

“Have a good night, London.” He turns his head to glance at me and, probably to just piss Brian off, gives me a wink before disappearing into the shuttle.

“Let’s get you to bed,” Brian mutters beside me, looping an arm around my waist.

I glance back at the bus and see Linda staring at me from the window, eyes wide and mouth open. I press my lips together and shrug. We’re just about up the porch steps when the fatigue hits me again. My eyes feel heavy, my mind is fuzzy, and all I can comprehend is the feel of Brian’s body against mine and the smell of him.

“How much did you have to drink?” His voice is strict, almost accusing.

Stupid Asshole Neighbour. He’s worried about how much I’ve had to drink? He couldn’t even text me back to let me know he was safe. I try to push him away from me, but instead I fall into his arms. The action takes up the rest of my energy and I give in, feeling his arms catch me before I hit the ground.