You check the weather for the tenth time, biting your nails nervously. The forecast just keeps getting worse. A huge snowstorm is headed your way, and your parents aren't back from their surfing expedition yet. Yup, they decided to spend their weekend at the beach, again. Meanwhile, you haven't moved from your bed for hours, powering through multiple seasons of Teen Wolf. You can almost feel the cobwebs forming.
You glance out the window. Thick tufts of snow are already falling outside, and it's starting to get dark, too. Your parents should be home by now. Just as you're about to check the weather again, your cell phone rings. It's your parents. You pick up quickly.
"Hi honey, have you seen the weather forecast?" your mom asks.
"Yeah, are you guys gonna be able to get home?"
"Actually, we decided not to take any chances so we're staying at the hotel one more night. Hope that's okay..." says your mom anxiously.
You shrug. You'll have to make your own dinner again, but you have no complaints about having the house to yourself. "Sure, I'll be fine."
"Don't throw any ragers," your dad jokes. "Oh wait, you'd need friends for that." You facepalm. Typical. "Bye, Dad," you say, hanging up.
It's past seven, and you're craving mac & cheese. You go downstairs and set a pot of water to boil. You're heading back upstairs to finish your episode when the doorbell rings.
You freeze, automatically wondering if it's a robber or a serial killer, or something like that. This is always your first thought. You're scared of everything, hence why you never answer the door when you're home alone. It's just too risky!
The doorbell rings again. And again. Must be a pretty determined murderer, especially since he's standing out there in the snowstorm, which is raging at this point. You can barely see out the window, what with the snow coming down so thick. And the wind is howling like a banshee. Whoever this is, they must be desperate for braving this storm.
You contemplate for a moment longer, but another, more insistent doorbell ring prompts you to face your fears. You unlock the door and slowly open it.
On the step is no serial killer, no robber, no psychopath. It's Noah.
You stand frozen for a moment, your mouth agape. He stands frozen too, but probably because it's literally freezing. Let him in, idiot.
"Hey Noah," you say as casually as you can, screaming internally. "What...what are you doing here?"
He avoids eye contact. He seems uncharacteristically awkward, but maybe that's because he's standing on the doorstep of a random girl from school. "I...got kind of stuck in the snowstorm..." he says uncertainly, and you melt at the sound of his voice. "And my phone died, so...great timing, huh?" He chuckles and shivers.
"Okay, come in, idiot. You'll freeze to death out there." You stand back and open the door to let him in. He steps in, and snowfalls off his Nikes onto the rug. His ankles are bare. He's wearing shorts. And a t-shirt.
You blink a couple of times and look back up at him. "A t-shirt? Are you insane?"
He still won't look at you, rubbing his arms and looking at his feet. "Yeah, I was running a couple of laps at the park. I had no idea there would be a big fucking storm. I started walking home but realized I didn't want to die, so I went to the nearest house...didn't know you lived here," he adds, which you assume really means "I'm not a stalker, I swear."
You nod in understanding like this situation is totally normal and you're not at all freaking out internally. You notice his hair is white from snow, and he's still shivering like crazy. "Well, I should get you a towel. You should, uh, sit over there...there's a heating vent in the corner."
