Alpine

Gambit 2 - Parasite

He left me out in the frigid night with my duffle bag in one hand and the food in the other for twenty minutes. Fingers: ice. Ears: red and aching. I pulled up the collar of my ski jacket to breathe through it as a makeshift scarf. The very real threat of frostbite was ringing through my brain the entire time. But the door did finally open.

In the time he had been inside, he had showered and changed into a cashmere turtleneck. It smelled like he had had a drink or two as well. He seemed relaxed, but I could tell he was still on his game. His one hand gripped the door and the other the doorframe, preventing me from forcing my way in. Not that I intended to try that.

With a smirk, he let go of the door and pulled out his car keys. The car's locks clicked open. "I want my cigarettes."

I nodded and put down my duffle bag. I got the carton out and returned to the door. He was still blocking my way in. My heart sank. This punishment was not yet over. I held the carton out to him with my head down.

He reached down to grab the strap of my duffle, laughing. "You really thought I was going to keep you out there, didn't you? Get in here." When he stepped out of the way, I had to stop myself from running inside. Walking into the warm cabin made my skin burn like I had jumped into boiling water, but it felt so good.

The main room had three sections. There was a little reading nook to my left. Three filled bookshelves, a comfy, oversized, tan chair, and a reading lamp on a rustic table. It was all connected as a unit by a round, worn rug. Further back in the room was a big kitchen with a bar counter and three stools. To the right of that was a staircase up and then a wall with two doors. I assumed one door was the bathroom, and the other a bedroom, so probably the second bedroom he had mentioned was upstairs in the attic.

Most of the main space, though, was a sitting area. One long couch, two more of the oversized chairs, a wooden coffee table with a glass of wine on it, a fewer smaller furniture pieces, and the only thing in this goddamn room that meant anything to me: a lit fireplace.

I stepped towards it, but he caught my arm. "Shoes off. I don't want you to track snow in."

After casting a longing look at the fire, I held up the bag of food and the cigarettes. "Where should this stuff go?"

"I've got it."

He put down my duffle bag by a coat tree and grabbed the box and bag. While I got my shoes off, he tossed the Crossroads onto the couch. Then, he went to the kitchen to start microwaving his food. I hanged my ski jacket onto the coat hanger and made a bee line for the fireplace. I got down to the floor and sat cross-legged way too close to it. The heat felt incredible.

At some point he said he was putting my duffle bag upstairs, but it barely registered. I had my eyes closed as I focused on the life coming back into my body. The searing pain in my extremities slowly gave way to pins and needles and then a dull vibration. I heard him sit down and slide something towards me. I opened my eyes to look. It was a steaming plate of soggy fries and burger. He was already demolishing his share.

I picked up the plate and put it on my lap. "Thanks. You didn't have to do heat it for me."

"Tonight, you are my guest, remember?"

"Does this mean you've forgiven me?"

"For what?"

"Please. I just want to know if we're even now."

The singsong quality of his voice was distorted with irritation. "You still owe me what we agreed on."

"I know. I'm not trying to get out of it. I just want to know if everything is okay as long as I do that."