She pouts, crossing her arms, her sour attitude evident not only in her face, but in her body language. Mostly, though, it's in her pretty eyes.
"C'mon, Pigeon. It's not that bad." He croons to her, attempting to pull her from her room. He winces as his skin touches hers, though she knows she wasn't supposed to see it. She also knows it's because her skin, that he always tells her is so warm, has lost some of that warmth. She's cold.
"Hell to the fuck no, Hero! It's freezing out there! You know how much I hate the cold!" She whines, steadfast on her bed, sitting criss-cross-applesauce. She's never dealt with the cold, and it's always made her feel like she's going to die.
Funny, she muses, how she says she hates the cold when, if she had to choose between the heat of his brother's skin to the coolness of Hero's, she'd choose his in a heartbeat. Love is funny that way, she supposes.
"But there's hot chocolate. And Ms. T said we're reading Catcher in the Rye today. You know how much you love that book. C'mon, Pigeon." He urges, almost desperate as he reaches for her hand. She flinches back from his touch, turning her head away and staring at the snow that outlines her porthole. She's allergic to snow, thank you very much, and will be remaining inside her cabin for the duration of their stay in Greenland.
Fucking Greenland covered in goddamn ice.
"Absolutely not. I don't care. I hate the cold." She is adamant, finality in her tone. She sees him roll his eyes, rolling her own in response as she says, "Excuse me, Hero. Not all of us hail from the city of Boston, where it snows like no damn tomorrow in the winter. I'm not going out there in the snow."
She can hear him sighing, for her eyes are shut, and she imagines him rubbing his eyes and running his hands through his hair in frustration. She's childish, she knows, and she can't change it. She won't.
"God, Pigeon. You're making this so much harder than it has to be, okay? Besides, Cody says he needs to talk to you about something. God only knows what it could be. So get your ass outta the bed and put some clothes on. And how in all of hell do you keep getting my shirts?" He asks her, making her laugh. It's perfect, because it hides her worry.
Professor wants to talk. They haven't talked, like really talked, since they had sex. What could he want?
"I have my ways, Hero. Now leave. I'll be out in a few minutes." She smiles, getting up and shoving him (gently) out of her room.
"Pushy, pushy! I'm goin, Pigeon, god!" He exclaims, laughter bubbling in his voice, and she rolls her eyes, a soft smile on her face. He's so silly, she thinks, but it makes her love him all the more.
.0
"Gen, hey. Zack got you to leave your cabin, thank God. Look, I – oh. You look really… Uncomfortable." Professor is awkward, and she's tempted to just leave. Bro, seriously? She's pissed.
"If you just called me to insult me, I'll be going inside now. I'm fucking freezing out here." She chatters, feeling her nose go slightly numb. Fuck, what does he want? Can they go back to Spain now? It had been so warm in Spain. And she had a nice boy there, too; a pretty boy who made her laugh. Can she have him back?
"No, Gen, I really want to talk to you about what happened between us." He says, and she flinches.
She was expecting this, really, she was. But the reality of what happens makes her cringe. It gives her a headache and she feels guilty and sick and sorry all at once.
So, she decides to deflect all of this with anger as she tells Professor coldly, "It was nothing but a drunken hook up. You and I hadn't gotten off in a while, didn't comprehend what was going on, and did what normal teenagers would do: gave into hormones. It's simple as that."
