Never Just Friends

by Lily Craig

  For all the noise coming from nature, the inside of the building was silent. Without the hum of the fridge or lights coming from appliances, it was eerily calm. All that pierced the weather-driven howl was the fire, cheery in its persistence. Madelyn felt nervous for the first time that they'd overstay their time booked here.

  "When do you think we'll be able to shovel out our cars and drive home?"

  "Depends on when it stops snowing this much. And when they get a plow out here."

  "Yikes," said Madelyn. "I think I need a drink. Wait. Should I not open the fridge to let the cold out?"

  Georgie laughed, shaking her head at Madelyn. Her question had been well-intentioned but obviously amused Georgie. "The whole world's our fridge now, Mads."

  "Riiiight," Madelyn said, smiling weakly. "Ok, now I really need a drink. That's embarrassing. You want one?"

  Their tenuous rekindling of friendly words didn't seem threatened by the offer, but Madelyn found her palms damp with sweat all the same. If she offended Georgie by asking like everything hadn't been shattered into awkward pieces this afternoon, there was no escape.

  They were stuck with each other.

  But Georgie nodded, so Madelyn fetched them each a bottle of her favorite IPA. While they drank, they took the contents of the fridge out to a snowbank in the back, tossing the more solid items farther away from the door. Snow had already piled up enough by the entrance to make leaving the cabin difficult.

  Once the task was finished, Georgie turned to Madelyn. Her posture shrunk inward, and her eyes barely met Madelyn's when she spoke.

  "So listen. I wouldn't say this if I didn't think it was actually what we needed to do. I'm not trying to get you in bed with me. But it's going to get cold tonight, and we should stay down on the main level by the fire. Ideally, sharing a big sleeping bag or pile of blankets to conserve body heat. Again, I'm not trying to make things weird."

  Madelyn smiled far too broadly for the situation, her desire to calm Georgie's nerves painfully apparent. "Not weird! I remember building quinzhees in Girl Guides when we learned about preserving warmth in winter."

  "Good," Georgie smiled. Her eyes still skittered around Madelyn’s nose and eyebrows when she did look at Madelyn directly. Never did she meet her gaze head on that night. "Let's check for two-person sleeping bags upstairs. I've got a flashlight in my duffel. You want to look through the closets downstairs and let me know if you find anything?"

  It didn't take long, because the cabin was well stocked. Georgie hollered down to Madelyn with a report of success only a few minutes into their search. Madelyn wasn't sure whether she was relieved or terrified. Maybe a bit of both.

  The two women sat on the couches, feeding logs into the fire while they sipped beer and chatted about the weather for as long as they could before it became clear that they both craved sleep. They hadn't dared venture into the topics of that afternoon's conversation, and neither was willing to be the first to crawl into bed.

  The sleeping bag was draped over a camping mat Georgie had found in the closets upstairs, placed close enough to the fire to appreciate the warmth while it died down but not so close as to pose a fire hazard. It sat between them, beckoning, while they continued to avoid deep conversation.

  Finally, Georgie yawned and went to leave her empty beer bottle near the sink.

  "I'm beat and need to sleep." She slipped into the sleeping bag. Madelyn stared into the fireplace, wishing she'd been more cautious about expressing her feelings earlier that day.

  No point in worrying over what's done.

  The air downstairs was warmest close to the fireplace, so she ought to use the sleeping bag. Going upstairs to sleep alone, possibly to be chilled so badly she'd wake in the night full of regret, didn’t make sense.

  Madelyn joined Georgie in the sleeping bag, painfully aware of the warmth and proximity of Georgie's body. It wasn't until an hour had passed that she relaxed enough to fall asleep, wind still washing over the cabin in an off-beat rhythm of gusts.

  9

  Dawn lit the cabin grey and blue, casting long, eery shadows behind the furniture. Madelyn ached from sleeping on a simple mat on the floor, but she was cozy and warm inside the sleeping bag. The tip of her nose, however, had gone numb from the chill.

  As Madelyn woke up, she noticed that Georgie's arm was wrapped around her torso. Georgie was spooning her gently, still breathing a deep, sleep-ridden rhythm. Though she knew she should lift Georgie's arm and shift away from her, Madelyn didn't want to. It felt too right.

  She let herself lie there, comfortably wrapped in the woman she loved, until the sudden stiffening of Georgie's body signaled that she'd woken up. Apparently, she hadn't liked what she found.

  "Shit," murmured Georgie, pulling away from Madelyn. In the absence of her arms around Madelyn's body, the cold crept in once more. Shared body heat had helped, whether Georgie's subconscious meant for her embrace to be heat-seeking or something more.

  Georgie cleared her throat and unzipped her side of the sleeping bag. She stood, shaking herself awake, and started to gather logs for a new fire while she shivered.

  "Hey," said Madelyn. "Good morning."

  "Oh, hi," Georgie said, whirling around. Her furtive slouch told Madelyn that Georgie was embarrassed to have come closer in the night, but Madelyn wasn't sure why. "I didn't know you were awake."

  "The dawn woke me up."

  As realization of what that meant grew in Georgie's mind, Madelyn watched a blush creep into Georgie's cheeks. The urge to save Georgie from awkwardness made Madelyn speak.

  "And you were right, the sleeping bag and being next to each other helped me stay warm. I'm glad you were smart about that. I'd have done something stupid and regretted it."

  "Ah, good."

  "And if I do say so myself, you're an excellent big spoon."

  Shit. That wasn't what was supposed to happen.

  Madelyn had intended to provide Georgie with a safe out from the discomfort of waking up entwined together, had meant to pretend it wasn't a big deal. Except some devilish impulse inside Madelyn wanted to force things. There had to be a spark between them, otherwise what else could explain what happened?

  If Madelyn's mind was grasping for proof that Georgie had any feelings for her, it apparently was going to rally all its strength to latch onto wisps of evidence. She steadied herself with a deep breath and watched Georgie's back while she lit tinder for the fire.

  "Uh-huh," said Georgie. Either she wasn't paying attention, or she was buying time.

  Madelyn approached the hearth, coming up behind Georgie with cautious steps, like she was a watchful deer that might bolt if a twig snapped. "Need a hand with anything?"

  Georgie looked up, her eyes finally meeting Madelyn's purely by accident, and in those wide brown irises, Madelyn saw what she'd wanted to this whole year. It may have been the morning light, or the fact that Georgie was still waking up and therefore hadn't had time to draw the curtains closed on her feelings, but there was something there. A spark of the affection Madelyn had known.

  "No, thanks," said Georgie, turning away to focus on the small flames curling around the tinder. The clench of Georgie's jaw as she wrestled with her demons accelerated Madelyn’s heartbeat.

  "I'll make breakfast, then."

  Ten minutes and a few eggs later, Madelyn brought a plate over to where Georgie sat on the couch. Georgie accepted the food, shoveling it into her mouth like she'd been starving for weeks.

  "Looks like it's finally stopped snowing," Georgie said when she finished clearing the plate. She pointed out the front windows to the utterly still landscape beyond.

  "Wow," breathed Madelyn. She had been so preoccupied with her feelings, with Georgie, that she hadn't appreciated their stunning surroundings. The huge panes of glass allowed a view of the heavily laden trees, the drifts that were piled up to the railing on the deck.

  "It must have snowed two feet," said Georgie.

  Madelyn couldn't think of a
response. Perhaps none was necessary. The silence now sounded like a peculiar absence of wind. With the whole world around them blanketed so deeply, it seemed like noise had been outlawed and the rest of their lives would be lived in a perfect, wintry hush.

  She was loath to break it.

  Georgie spoke first, standing to clear the dishes to the sink. "We should get some more wood from the lean-to outside for today. The temperature's likely dropping as it clears up, and we've used most of the logs they had inside."

  "Want help with that?" said Madelyn, meaning the dishes Georgie had stacked, but when Georgie smiled and nodded, she realized she'd agreed to help get firewood from outside. It didn't matter; what was important was they could spend time together. Maybe right the wrongs of Madelyn's ill-timed confession.

  The water groaned through the pipes, but they were able to wash the dishes. Once the plates and cutlery were clean, Georgie suggested they fill a few pots with drinking water in case the pipes froze over.

  "I don't know why I didn't think of that last night. Had other things on my mind, I guess."

  "Like what?"

  Georgie's face darkened at Madelyn's question. "You know what, Mads. Come on, let's get outside."

  Each time Madelyn thought she was getting through to Georgie, she bounced up against another, deeper barrier. The girl was formidable for so many reasons, but in the year apart she seemed to have built even more defence mechanisms.

  How had this never come up in their Skype dates?

  Madelyn wondered if she'd been so focused on sorting out her own feelings that she'd neglected to consider Georgie's. It must have been hard to move to a new city and start over again, even harder for someone who'd always been quiet. Georgie had been so brave; Madelyn could appreciate that now.

  When Madelyn opened the back door, she found their makeshift refrigeration area had been covered with snow overnight. A few beer bottle necks poked out of the lower areas on the drifts, but mostly the food and drink were obscured by snow.

  They'd dressed warmly even though the lean-to was close, because once snow got into your socks or pant legs, it melted to a chilly dampness that would make things far more uncomfortable than they had to be. Madelyn waited for Georgie to finish putting on her scarf and then she smiled and leapt backwards into a drift, like she wanted to make a snow angel.

  With a puff of fresh snowflakes, she landed to the left of the food.

  "Come on in, the water's fine!" Madelyn said, grinning at Georgie. She waggled her arms and legs around and then righted herself. The snow came up to her hips and became much denser around the knee and lower. Wading to the lean-to would be difficult.

  "How did you know you weren’t going to hit food? Lucky. You always did love snow, didn't you?" said Georgie. She stepped into the drifts, shoving her mittened hands in her pockets at first until it became clear she'd need her arms out for balance while she moved. Madelyn fought a smile when Georgie wobbled and then righted herself. It was too endearing for words.

  "Did I?" asked Madelyn, fighting forwards with a motion more like swimming than walking. The snow was formidable and did not care where she wanted to go. "I remember being a much bigger fan of summer than winter."

  "What about all the snowball fights?" asked Georgie. Winter's chill added a soft pink to her nose, one that distracted Madelyn while she moved, ever so slowly, towards the stacked firewood.

  "Those were fun. Too bad I was awful at throwing them. I don't think a single snowball of mine actually landed on a target until at least... 2008? Maybe later."

  "They didn't need to land, just intimidate. I was the sniper, and you were my cover fire."

  Reminiscing with Georgie made Madelyn's chest ache with nostalgia for the time when they'd been so close, not just in the sense where they lived in the same city, but also for when they'd shared thoughts and feelings without a second's pause.

  How had they gotten to now? Where Georgie had started trying to date and hadn't even spoken to Madelyn in weeks. Snow spilled into the space between Madelyn's boots and ankles, making her yelp at the sudden cold.

  "What?"

  "It's nothing," said Madelyn. She didn't want to be a bother. Except she took another step, misjudging the landscape because it was so deeply shrouded you couldn't gauge anything accurately, and she plunged a full foot deeper into a drift. When her boot landed, it slipped sideways and the painful twisting made her cry out. Ice crunched beneath her.

  "Shit!"

  "Mads?" said Georgie. She went as quickly as she could to Madelyn's side. Her speed was dampened by the drifts, but there was urgency to her movement. "Are you okay?"

  Madelyn nodded, clenching her teeth as she tried to right herself. But putting weight on the foot sent throbbing pain up her leg, so she tried to steady herself on her good side. The snow came up almost to her chest in this spot, which from the ice crackling underneath her boots sounded like it was a frozen stream bed. That would explain the change in elevation.

  "You go inside, and I'll get the firewood. Don't hurt yourself any worse than you have already."

  Georgie's concerned brow furrow and the clipped brusqueness of her voice may have put off someone less acquainted with her personality. Beneath those prickly-seeming signals, Madelyn could sense how worried Georgie was about her. It warmed her better than the thermal underwear she'd brought for the trip.

  "I'll try," said Madelyn. She didn't want to finish the thought, to express that she wasn't sure she could make it back to the door without help. It wasn't even that far away. She'd been wading slowly. But with the pain in her ankle as vivid as it was, Madelyn was worried about jolting or falling.

  Still, she didn't want to ask Georgie for help. Too much guilt about spilling her feelings so messily still sat in Madelyn’s shoulders, tightening muscles and pulling her inwards.

  Madelyn took a breath, exhaling raggedly while she watched the air in front of her mouth steam visibly. She held her arms out to the side for balance and gingerly stepped backwards, trying to put only the slightest weight on the bad foot and then hop to the good immediately. Luckily, she'd forged a path from the door so the way back would be easier than if it were fresh snow.

  Marginally easier.

  Even the hint of weight on her bad ankle made Madelyn curse, breath shocked out of her like she'd been punched.

  "Woah. Hey." Georgie fought the snow and came to Madelyn. "Put your arm around me."

  She didn't have to ask twice. Madelyn melted onto Georgie for support and bit her lip to fight back tears. The pain seemed to lessen almost instantly, either because of the physical aid or the emotional relief. Their closeness to one another felt natural, like walking down a peaceful lane in the forest.

  Except they were a handful of feet away from the back door of the cabin, surrounded by winter, not foliage. The wind had quieted down to a murmuring presence, and Madelyn's greatest concern was torn between wondering whether she'd broken her ankle and trying not to stare at Georgie's face when it was so close.

  The two made their way slowly, pushing through the great drifts of snow in a careful churn. Georgie's strong shoulders lifted Madelyn upright, her firm hand on Madelyn's back a comfort at the same time as it was a hyper-focused presence in her mind. Madelyn wanted that hand to stay, to run up her back and into her hair, gently.

  Though their progress was slow and, for Madelyn, painful, in the post-storm hush it felt as if a small blinking light had been re-lit. Madelyn still wished she hadn't blurted out her feelings earlier, but at least now she knew Georgie didn't hate her for it. She was still the same sturdy and caring woman she'd known all these years. Who Madelyn had fallen for, despite herself.

  Inside, Georgie maneuvered Madelyn to a dining room chair and helped her sit down. She shut the door and brushed the dustings of snow off her various surfaces: boots, legs, waist. Madelyn tried to do the same but made a half-circle of rapidly melting snow around her seat.

  "Oops," she said. "Guess I'll end up stepping in that when I
get up again."

  "No, I can help you out of it," Georgie said. She approached to help Madelyn with her winter gear, easing the boot off her injured foot with such steady, even caution that Madelyn found herself breathing like she was in a yoga class, deep and meditative. It ached, throbbing to a fever pitch when the boot rounded the widest part of her heel, but Madelyn counted in her head and managed not to swear.

  She didn't realize she'd closed her eyes to make her way through the pain until she opened them and saw Georgie. Gone was the hurt she'd seen in Georgie's deep-set eyes and finely creased brow. It had been entirely replaced by concern for Madelyn. Basking in that care, she felt whole.

  Georgie was so close, kneeling at Madelyn's lap, that Madelyn didn't dare breathe or disturb the moment. Whatever was transpiring between them had the fragility of a single snowflake, impossibly unique and delicate. Georgie's hands stayed on Madelyn's foot and calf, warm from the exertion outside.

  Georgie opened her mouth to speak, words waiting for the right moment and then lingering a fraction of a second too long. Before Madelyn could do anything to make it easier for Georgie to say what she needed to, she felt hands slide up her legs. Sparks tingled their way along the path of Georgie's palms, still firm against Madelyn's body.

  Once they reached the tops of Madelyn's thighs, Georgie's hands grasped the sides of the chair. She leaned in, so close that each muted freckle on her nose was visible. Madelyn shivered from nerves, not cold, and felt Georgie's lips meet her own. The kiss lasted a second, maybe two, and then Georgie stood.

  Breaking the silence still felt impossible to Madelyn. She didn't dare speak and discover that Georgie regretted the moment that just happened. Because the tenderness between them was so precisely what Madelyn had craved for months now, she'd have pledged herself to silence for a lifetime if that was what it took to preserve things.