***
“Oh, gods,” Maeve says when she walks through the door of my apartment and sees what I’ve cooked up in the living room. “Are you serious?”
“What?” I ask as I turn, two bottles of strawberry soda in my hands. “You don’t like it?”
“No, no,” she assures me, and when she laughs, she throws her head back a bit, her curls rolling over her back. I can’t pull my eyes from them, and I track her movement as she shrugs her coat off her shoulders.
“Oh,” I say, setting down the soda quickly. “Here.”
As I’m taking her coat, she wanders into the living room, trailing her finger over the back of the couch, her eyes locked on the pile of blankets on the floor.
Well, it’s more than a pile of blankets. It’s a nest.
When we were kids and rain kept us inside on a summer day, we’d make a nest on the floor, bundling up with snacks and soda, watching horror movies until I was freaking out and cowering and Maeve was laughing at me, trying to remind me that the movies weren’t real, even as thunder boomed outside and added to the creepy ambiance.
“How long has it been?” she whispers.
I stop myself from reciting the exact number of years. That summer before high school was the last we spent together, and even that summer had pulled me in two directions—spending more time with the guys, and keeping my friendship with Maeve a secret from them.
My heart aches now when I think about all the movie nests I missed out on from being concerned about what other people thought about me.
“I rented a bunch of new releases,” I say, gesturing to the nest. “Settle in. I can grab our dinner.”
Maeve twists her hands together, looking first at me, then at the nest on the floor, all pillows and blankets piled high. Enough room that we won’t have to touch one another if we don’t want to.
I want to. But I can keep my hands to myself.
In the kitchen, I dish up two bowls of shrimp scampi and carry them out to the living room, the steam trailing behind me as I go. Maeve’s face lights up when she sees it.
“Did you make this?” she asks, looking dubious.
“Well,” I say, clearing my throat. “Does dumping it out of the bag count?”
She laughs, digging her fork into the bowl. “Sure.”
I go back to the kitchen, grab the tray of snacks and a huge bowl of popcorn, then return to the living room and settle in with her. We start the first movie, finishing up our food before the first major gory scene, and I’m pleased to find that Maeve is still as impervious to these movies as ever, munching on her snacks even during the most brutal murders on screen.
“I just don’t know how you’re not freaked out by that,” I mutter, looking through my fingers at the TV as a woman screams and races down a hill. I’ve never seen this one, but based on what’s happened to the other characters, I don’t think she’s going to get away.
“You’ve literally fought wildfires,” Maeve shoots back, leaning over and pushing against my arm. “You should not be freaked out by this.”
“That’s a stereotype.”
“What? What stereotype?”
“Just because I am brave against fire,” I say, leaning in close to her, “doesn’t mean I’m brave against everything, Maev-is.”
“That’s not my name,” she says, reaching up and pushing against my shoulder.
I fall back, acting wounded, but feeling happier than I have in a long time. It’s always fun to hang out with the guys, but since Lachlan got serious with Valerie and Xeran’s been keeping Kalen busy with pack business, our group has dwindled.
And it’s different with Maeve. It’s always been different with her.
The first movie ends, and we turn on the second one, and I catch the slightest nod of Maeve’s head, her chin nearing her chest.
It reminds me of us as kids, her drifting off long before me. After my first shift, I only needed about four hours of sleep a night. After her first shift, she needed at least ten, which means there was a lot of time that I was awake, watching her sleep, getting her a blanket when she started to shiver.
Now, she drifts off, and even though I’m usually not tired, I feel a wave of sleepiness roll over me. When she’s asleep, I reach down and pull a blanket up over our bodies, knowing she’s going to get cold.
