No Heat
Nueva York always had one thing you could live without; painfully cold seasons. Where Autumn should have been that blissful in between where you could find relief from the scorching Sun without worrying about slipping on ice, it was something else entirely. A warning for the Winter to come, the moment Halloween ended and Thanksgiving was next on the list of celebration you had to start worrying about sprinkling of snow. You weren’t sure why these cold seasons were as fierce as they were, nor why they always came out of nowhere. But you despised them and despised the way it made your power bill jump up several amounts.
It didn’t help that the apartment building you called home was one of the older ones with small upkeep and enough faulty wiring and heating systems that you had two electric heaters at the ready at all time. In fact, the thoughts of those two heaters would be what would get you through the walk home tonight when your shift ended. It wasn’t snowing but the rain outside would feel like blades of ice stabbing you all the same. Would your jacket be thick enough to fight it off or should you finally invest in another umbrella? Your last one ended up stolen when you left it outside too long to let it dry and you just didn’t take the time to buy another. But Autumn was here and the freezing rains were constant.
“You look so cheerful to be leaving.” Jacob said as he tugged the door to the office shut. He must have finally finished counting the day’s deposit since his own umbrella and jacket were in hand. The deposit would be taken to the bank the next day, left locked up for the night since that would be the safest place to keep it. Jacob didn’t dare take it out of the shop without going straight to the bank. He walked towards you and paused to look out and to the streets. Realizing what have you frowning he clicked his tongue. “Going to finally take me up on that ride home?”
“Nope.”
“Damn you’re stubborn,” He clicked his tongue again and shook his head. It wasn’t the first time he told you as such and it wouldn’t be the last time by a long shot. “If you’re sick tomorrow you aren’t getting leave, you know this. Right?”
“You say that every time, but you know if I called all pitiful and with a sniffling nose you’d feel bad for me.”
“Isn’t Miguel in town? Couldn’t he take you home or something?” Jacob was always blunt when he changed subject, not even bothering to try and be smooth with it. But the subject of Miguel was an easy one for you to get distracted by considering how long it’s been since you’ve seen him. The night he carried you up to your apartment felt so long ago, and it was considering he hasn’t had a chance in town to come see you again. A part of you knew this would happen at some point when his work would keep him away for a period longer than a week or two, yet you didn’t expect to feel like…well, this. Not longing, you wouldn’t dare call it something so dramatic, but a little ache whenever you think about him and double check for that one message to tell you he was in town. At Jacob’s words, however, you flipped the phone in your hand over and checked for any new notifications. Nothing. You flipped it back over.
“He’s still out of town.”
“Ah,” Jacob looked uncomfortable. Words he wanted to say danced in his gaze back and forth until he settled on a safer alternative. “Busy as ever in work, yeah?”
“As always.” You didn’t smile. You were good at faking it, at hiding the fact it stung or you were a little more anxious than normal, but Jacob watched you fake it to dozens of customers in a day. You couldn’t fake it to him. “I’ll be fine, I’m going to order me the greasiest, cheesiest pizza ever and indulge tonight.”
“You sure?”
“Positive.” He sighed, clapped a hand to your shoulder, then shrugged.
“I can’t force you, just…lemme’ know when you get home, alright? The streets aren’t the nicest…”
“Don’t worry, only idiots would be out in this weather willingly.” Jacob gave you a look. “I know what I said.”
Jacob and you left at the same time, the two of you locking the door behind one another. Although Jacob asked once more, you denied him and the two of you turned to walk in opposite directions. Jacob’s took him to his car just down the street to begin his twenty-ish minute drive through the heart of the city in a bypass to his own home. His wife was more than likely cooking something for them. If he wasn’t going to be late getting home she always cooked. An image of Miguel waiting for you at home with a hot meal was both a tempting thought to cling to and an embarrassing one. Especially since this relationship was still something…well, new. Neither of you had exactly said ‘hey we’re dating’ it was just implied enough through a series of actions and certain phrases that it couldn’t be denied. Not that either of you were attempting such a thing. It was just…there. A new part of the routine that somehow fit itself into this puzzling existence. But Miguel wouldn’t be waiting at home for you. Hell, he wasn’t even in town as far as you knew.
Besides, you had a lovely heat up dinner with your name on it after you took the shower calling your name.
The thoughts of warmth awaiting you would be the only thing getting you through this walk. A part of you cursed at being so stubborn for not taking the offer from Jacob to get a ride home once the rain started to soak through. It wasn’t the initial feeling of being wet or the weight that came with your clothes being soaked through so thoroughly, but it was initial chill that started to creep up. The chill wasn’t a slow one either. As if you snapped your fingers it was suddenly everywhere, from the top of your soaked scalp with the hood of your jacket sunken over it, down to the toes in the shoes sloshing from the amount of water in them. Ice might as well be forming on your flesh from this cold, you realized, once your started to spasm with shakes.
Warm shower. Hot meal. Warm meal. Hot shower. Interchangeable, both equally delightful and waiting for you. Just a few more steps, then through the doors and up the steps of the stairs. At least inside the building you were finally shielded from the storm that put Nueva York in a haze, as if your eyes had suddenly grown hazy. It didn’t help that the lights blurred in the rain until you couldn’t even focus long enough to distinguish building from building in the distance. It didn’t matter. You were home, you had your key in hand, and you were just about to push the door open once your hands stopped shaking when something hit you. No outside lights were on. Not just yours, which you almost always left on because you forgot to turn it off rather than turn it on, but even the ones to the apartments next door. And past those. And move. The apartment building wasn’t completely dark as the emergency lights were still on, faded to a dull light blue, but it was nowhere near as lit as it could be.
Immediately, you knew what had happened before you even opened the door; the power had gone out.
This wasn’t a rare occurrence. Sadly, when you moved into this apartment you came to learn early on that the wiring in this building was old and faulty and just barely stayed above the legal limitations to pass an inspection. On most days it wasn’t reason for concern, which is probably why it’s constantly put off for repairs. But on days like this when everyone is home in all the apartments and running their heat or cooling units at full blast, it was easily overwhelmed.
That also meant your dream of a hot meal and even hotter shower went up in smoke when the cold chill of the apartment told you it had been out for a while. You sighed in defeat when you stepped in, shivers already taking hold like vultures waiting for you to finally drop. Well, no use in standing there in soaked clothes crying over this. Best bet was to dry off, change, and immediately bury yourself into your bed under the endless blankets until either the power came on or the Sun rose. Whichever happened first. At least, that was the plan, until something shifted in the dark and you felt your heart rate spike in fear. You lived alone, the door had been locked (right?), there shouldn’t be movement in your apartment. If it was the landlord he would have announced himself. Your mind immediately raced to the thoughts of a burglar, of something worse awaiting you. How far were you from the kitchen knives?
“Mierda, you’re dripping.”
Your heart skipped for an entirely new reason when familiar hands, they were familiar weren’t they-touched you. They first touched your arms then immediately released you once they felt how soaked they were. One came up to your forehead and the heat of that hand was convincing enough for you to lean into until it pulled away.
“Miguel?” You asked, eyes squinting in the dark to try and make him out. It was him, the voice and the nervous touch gave him away, yet no matter how much you strained you couldn’t make him out. Not against the backdrop of darkness. Even when he stood right before you and let his hands touch your shoulders next as if to test how far down the wet chill had spread.
“Do you not own an umbrella?” He sounded annoyed. No, not annoyed, nervous. Your hands came up to try and find him, just to tell you he was there, and you felt when he jumped as your palms met the flat of his chest. He wore a shirt only. No jacket or cardigan or anything, perhaps he had hung it up somewhere in the apartment, yet he was much hotter than he should have been. You would have called him feverish if you weren’t so interested in that heat he offered. “Your power is out.” He stated.
You snorted.
“I couldn’t tell.” He was making a face. You couldn’t see it, but you’ve talked enough times to your boyfriend-he was that, wasn’t he, how peculiar- for you to know he was pulling a face at your response.
“You should have called me, I could have brought you an umbrella. Something.”
“I didn’t know you were in town.” You admitted. Miguel didn’t have a response for that. “I have some candles by my bed, lighter next to them.”
“Does this happen often?” He asked. You nodded, then you said ‘yes’ when you realized. Miguel cursed in Spanish, then in English, then his hands dropped to find your own. His hands were so warm you just let him take yours up and guide you through the apartment. You were sure you could make it through just fine, probably better than him considering you heard when he bumped into something, but you didn’t want him to let go of you.
“It shouldn’t take more than a day for it to come back on.” You offered, like that would somehow make the situation better. Miguel grunted in response. Then he grunted when his body thumped against something. Your apartment wasn’t too confusing to navigate. The kitchen and living area were mashed together, the only bedroom and bathroom shoved together as well. As long as Miguel could guide you both around the corner and down the slight hall, which he seemed to be doing, then your bedroom would be right there and-yes, he found it. Your room wasn’t large. Even your bed, which had been provided, wasn’t as large as you would think an adult should have. But you were a single adult when you moved in so it was plenty large enough for you. Miguel let go and you just stood there in the darkness.
“On the night stand.” You directed knowing just what he was looking for. He found the candles a moment later, the match striking being the first light you’ve seen in the apartment. Your eyes had just started to adjust to the dark, too, when the first candle was lit. Miguel’s face came into clear view and he lit two more candles before he turned to regard you. Although the shadows stretched from the light of the candle’s flame and made him somehow look even sharper, even more intimidating, his eyes weren’t. If anything, you could see the moment his gaze softened when he found you, until he looked down at your outfit once more.
“Off.” He stated simply. You raised a brow and watched the moment his own word registered and he scowled. His cheeks might have been flushed or the shadows of the candle could have shifted. “Bathroom, you need to dry-I made you an extra candle to take-No me mires. No así.” He turned away suddenly and you wanted to laugh. You were grinning, that might have been what caused him to look away first, but he held out the candle for you and even though your hands shook you managed to carry it with you.
The towels in the bathroom were fluffy and chilled but they served their purpose as well as you could ask for. Your hair wouldn’t be completely dry without your hair dryer and parts of you felt like no matter how many times you swiped a dry towel over it the dampness wouldn’t leave. When they dropped your wet clothes sloshed, making a startlingly loud sound in the quiet apartment. Pajamas meant to have been laid out just for the hot shower you had been intending to have since that morning were pulled on and you brushed your hair the best you could before stepping out. Miguel must have been busy putting up a handful of candles, mostly leading from your bedroom to the living area, where he had seated himself at.
He looked too big in your apartment. Took up too much space without realizing it in comparison to you. Or maybe that was because this was only the second time total you’ve seen him in here. He was unnatural in the space, too tense and nervous even as he reclined into the back of the couch, one arm stretched across the back while he looked around. Next to him, settled on the cushion, was a plastic bag with the familiar name of a fast food location just a few blocks away.
“You got me dinner?” It was a bold assessment, yet it was the correct one as Miguel turned to greet you. His eyes wept you quickly, then he nodded.
“I was hoping to…surprise you. I should have called, mierda, I should have…” His eyes closed, brows pinched, then he shook his head. “Are you still cold?”
You nodded.
“Come here, I took some blankets from your bed-if that was okay. I couldn’t find others.” He was quick to explain himself in the same moment he tried to direct you closer. A wave of his hand and you went to him, watching how his fidgeting hands tugged and maneuvered the blankets that had been on his lap. You lifted the bag of food just before he could scramble to and settled into the space next to him. In the next instance the blankets, two of them both thick and fluffy, were tossed over you and the food nearly knocked from your hands. Miguel managed to keep it from falling and still covered you. No, not just you, but he was under them too. You didn’t suspect he was cold considering when his arm returned back to the length behind the couch you could practically feel the heat from him.
It’s what pushed you to settle into his side, shoulder tucked under his arm and side melting into his own. His body briefly tensed, the motion surprising him, then he seemed to convince himself to relax into you.
“You’re freezing.” He said softly. So softly, this tone of voice still shocking you. Someone like Miguel always seemed like they should sound more intimidating, more terrifying when they spoke. Yet his words were so soft in this moment, his tone a caressing whisper to your cheek when he looked down at you. The candles weren’t close enough to cast shadows over his face now, but those brown eyes of his lit up like sunlight reflecting on a riverbed. He blinked and you realized you were just looking at him. Really looking at him.
Could being too cold make one loopy?
You could blame it on that. Really, you couldn’t be held to your own actions considering how chilled you were. Surely it messed with the brain in the same way a heat stroke would. It would be why, if he pushed you back or pulled away and politely declined you, an excuse could be provided. Because a part of you felt like this was a little too soon to do such a thing. You hadn’t been on many dates-no, well, you have, but they weren’t exactly called dates. Then again, neither of you had called this dating, but you both knew you were. Labels were strange to come about or settle on considering how delicate of a situation you both balanced. He wasn’t always around and you weren’t sure how a relationship was supposed to work. Not in these moments. It wasn’t like you could find a detailed handbook on how you should be expected to handle a situation like this.
You kissed him.
Correction, you leaned in to kiss him and panicked somewhere between your own thoughts and the way his hand, resting limply on your shoulder, tensed. He didn’t grab you. The realization he wasn’t about to stop you wasn’t reassuring enough for you to continue, to close the rest of that distance and here you both were left staring at one another. Heat was filling your cheeks and you found it ironic that the best way to warm up was just to embarrass yourself in front of Miguel. It wasn’t real heat, not like the heat he was offering, but it gave the illusion and perhaps it could trick your brain into thinking you were warm.
“What did you-“ You were going to ask about the food. The safest change in topic you could manage because you couldn’t ask him about his work and he would ask you about your own in time. There wasn’t a show or movie you could offer to put on, not until the power came back on, and it wasn’t like either of you could read so easily by candle light. Not like this. What were you supposed to ask him about, really, besides the food? How his morning had started? Maybe, but he would keep it vague and single worded. Regardless, you couldn’t make it to asking about the food because Miguel took the dive.
He kissed you.
Unlike you, he didn’t stop halfway. Didn’t get so close you could taste his breath and pulled away last moment. No, he leaned in completely and let chapped lips capture yours in an awkward kiss. You say awkward because you didn’t return it for a moment, eyes wide and staring while his own closed. But the moment you realized the situation, could finally process his actions, you closed your own and tried to angle into the kiss. It wasn’t an easy thing to do with such little experience. How was one supposed to know if they were doing alright? Ask for a rating?
“Grilled cheese.” He said when the kiss ended. Chaste, a touch of lips to lips and nothing more, and his face was definitely flushed. You blinked at him. “It…was raining. You mentioned you liked grilled cheese before and…Hace frío.” He finished. But his eyes dropped back to your lips. Miguel wasn’t thinking about grilled cheese anymore. He was thinking about how to kiss you again, or that was the feeling you were getting in the fact he couldn’t look away from you lips. Funny enough, you found yourself in a strangely similar position; eyes dropping to his and keenly watching when they parted just slightly. Was the kiss good enough to warrant another?
“Thank you.” He nodded. You kissed him. He jumped at it, the movement so quick you had managed to catch him off guard and his hand on your shoulder tightened completely, fingers curling. His head tilted and you mimicked the movement in the opposite way and felt when your mouths slanted just right. Then you parted and realized you were both twisted up and still close enough noses touched and- “I’m not very good at this.”
“I’m not either.” He admitted. The candle on the table was burning low. It was only a tea candle, after all, and it wouldn’t last for much longer. Maybe it was too old to function correctly. The wick could have been damaged and you never know, because the other candles weren’t struggling. It was darkening between you both, yet neither of you looked away. Not to the food between you both or to the fading light. “Is…this okay?” He kissed you again for the question. Quicker than before. A peck of the lips that separated quickly.
“Yes? I…” Why wouldn’t it be okay? Well, correction, would there be something to not make it okay? “For now, yes. I’m not…again, I’m not good at this.”
“Yo también.” He muttered. You frowned.
“Teach me Spanish already.”
“Bésame.” He said and you blinked. He repeated the word once again, a slow pronunciation. The lighting made it hard to see how his lips shaped the words and you had to listen again.
“Bésame.” You repeated to him. He kissed you so suddenly you let out a startled sound and he broke it immediately. “What does it mean?”
“Kiss me.”
“Oh.” You repeated. He was embarrassed, you could see it in how he ducked his head down. But the candle was going out and you enjoyed this far too much to just stop, even if you didn’t want to push it further. You were cold, tired, hungry, and still thrumming with adrenaline from whatever this was, so you said it again; Bésame.
And again, he kissed you.