After about fifteen minutes the cabin door flung open and she was quickly pulled inside. She screamed being startled and fought the figure tugging on her. “Hope, it’s me, Jack,” he said gripping her shoulder making her look into to eyes.A sigh of relief flooded her and she began to cry. He pulled her close and hugged her tight. She felt the skin of his neck on her cheek, it was warm and inviting. He held her there for a moment then pushed the snow-covered blanket from her shoulders, swooped her up in his arms and set her on the couch. He grabbed a blanket from the back of the couch and wrapped it around her.“I’m sorry,” she sniffled.He reached up and took her face in his hands and wiped her tears with his thumbs, “Nothing to be sorry about.”Her eyes looked up and met his and suddenly there was a butterfly village fluttering in her tummy. She quickly broke the intense stare between them and looked down.“Right,” he said with a deflated tone, “I’m going to get some firewood.”When. The young girl gyrated in her counterpart’s lap slowly, the pair sipping from a green bottle. Dutch. No good, she thought. No good. She turned to her lover and watched him as he watched this crowd. His brown eyes swept slowly from the swaying hips of a tiny blonde, dancing to the random Bruce Springsteen release emanating from the ratty old jukebox, to a tall brunette smoking a cigarette by the bathrooms in back. ‘Anything?’ he inquired, his voice lowered by smoke and excess Budweiser. She shrugged. ‘Nothing, so far.’ He nodded and returned his eyes to the petite blonde, her miniscule body swaying back and forth to a tune that did not fit the music playing around them. She looked young- possibly eighteen, probably younger- her lips pressed seductively around a lengthy cigarette. She would exhale and stop her movements, then press the Marlboro to her red lips and return to the dance. He watched her, and she watched him watching her. ‘Her?’ ‘No,’ he shrugged and pushed his own.
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