Cold Night Warming Hearts

There I was sitting in the instrument lab of Sampson University, running the sixth of what would be ten trials. There was a hell of a storm outside, but you wouldn't know it from here in the fishbowl. You can lose track of time, as well as any semblance of connection to the outside world, in this brick room in the center of the building, filled with all manner of instruments used by the chemistry department. The room is officially named the advanced chemistry instrument lab, but everyone calls it the fishbowl, due to the one giant window representing the dominant portion of one wall facing the hallway.

It's an interesting feeling to sit alone in a room surrounded only by the moan of vacuum pumps and the hum of electronics, for hours at a time, nothing changing but lines on a screen. So it was quite a shock when suddenly that comforting drone stopped as the lights flickered out. I waited a long moment for the power to return, but quickly lost interest in sitting in the dark, so I decided to check on the storm. I made my way carefully through the thousands of dollars worth of equipment, ineffectual without electricity, using my phone as a flashlight to guide me to the door.

By the time I had almost reached the door, I saw another light through the huge window of the fishbowl. I stumbled forward and pulled the door open before the light could disappear around a corner.

"Hey, who's there?"

"It's Sophia. I think a branch probably fell and hit a line," responded the crisp voice of Sophia Clark. I have known Sophia for all of my college years. We had freshman chemistry together first semester and have shared a passing acquaintance for the subsequent four semesters. She was the perfect model of a stereotypical pre-med student – highly intelligent, pompous, and socially aloof.

"Did you look outside yet?"

"No, that's why I'm heading to the door," she replied harshly.

"Well, I'm going too. You don't mind the company, do you?" I replied, trying to mirror her tone.

"That's fine, I guess," she responded with an edge that showed me I had managed to ruffle a few of her feathers.

When we made it to the door, the street lights were out, nothing visible but the snow blowing against the glass. I pushed it open to get a better look and was greeted with a wall of wind and snow that caused me to quickly close it.

"That's not good. The weather wasn't supposed to get this bad tonight, was it?" I asked.

"I hadn't heard anything about it, but it could be. Why aren't the generators kicking in?" The edge was absent from her voice this time, replaced with curiosity.

"Sampson doesn't have any generators, Sophia, we're too cheap for that," I responded matter-of-factly.

"I've been here long enough, I shouldn't be surprised about the corner-cutting," she sighed. "But the storm shouldn't last that long, should it? I have to finish studying for A&P tonight and I can't without power."

"It could pass, or it could get a lot worse. I need to get to my car," I said, trying to sound calm, not like someone who panics at a little bit of snow, but the weather had me worried; I'd been in a blizzard before, so I knew they were not something to be taken lightly

"You can't seriously be thinking about driving in this weather," she demanded.

"No, I have an emergency bag in my car, and it could be useful if this turns into a full-blown blizzard. Can you make sure the door doesn't lock behind me and keep your phone's light pointed out so I can make my way back?"

"I can do that," she responded.

As soon as I stepped outside, I knew this storm was not going to be over anytime soon. The snow was falling heavily, the wind blowing hard, and I could barely see the outline of my car parked only twenty feet from the door. I finally made it to the car and popped the trunk, grabbing the terracotta-colored duffle bag I used as an emergency kit and slinging it over my shoulder. I closed the trunk and began to make my way back, but a particularly large gust of wind, combined with the cumbersome weight of the duffle bag, caused me to lose my balance. I toppled, all of my weight landing on my right knee, pain shooting through it as the bag slipped from my shoulder. I shifted and got to my feet, my knee protesting as I tested it gingerly. I grabbed the strap of the duffle and hobbled to the door, dragging it through the snow behind me. Sophia opened the door just as I reached it, and I pulled the bag through.

"What happened to you?" she asked, as I limped away from the cold of the windows.

I laughed awkwardly. "I, the great polar explorer, lost my footing on the walk back." Embarrassed, I changed the subject. "There's a lot more things in here than you'd think," I said, hefting the bag. "It's in case you get trapped in your car, or a building, during winter. I'll show you, but let's get to one of the interior conference rooms; they'll keep heat in longer."

"We can't," she said. "They're locked this time of night."

"I know, but I happen to have the key," I replied, and handed it to her. She raised her eyebrows. "You know, Sophia, some of us do more than just study. I work as a grader." I responded with a chuckle again.

"Can you blame me for being suspicious? You and your friends have a reputation for getting into trouble," she said, and I couldn't blame her because we did.

"Yeah, I know, but I have respect for the science building. I mean, I spend more time here than I do my dorm. It's like a second home to me," I responded, feigning insult, but she merely shrugged.

We headed to the conference rooms and she unlocked the door. The room was not large, only about ten feet by fifteen feet, and that space was dominated by the large polished wood table in the center.

I heaved the bag onto the table and pulled out a battery operated lantern, switching it on to fill the room with the soft blue light of the LED. The interior of the building had a much more comfortable temperature, and we took off our heavy coats.

"Sophia, could you go check and see if anyone else is in here?"

"Aren't you going to come with me?" she asked with an edge of uneasiness that was strangely unsettling to hear in her voice.

"Scared of monsters?" I teased. "It's just a storm. This is still the same old science building we both spend way too much of our lives in. You'll be fine. Besides, I need to unpack some things, try to make this room a little homier for the night," I said trying to keep the growing pain in my knee from entering my voice.

"You're still your lazy self, aren't you, Hunter? Even in a situation like this," she said, exasperated. I merely smiled at her and shrugged as she stormed off.

Once she turned the corner down the hall, I pulled out the first aid kit from the duffle bag. I took out a bottle of ibuprofen and took four. I undid my pants and gingerly pulled them down over my knee. I could already see a bruise forming around my knee and swelling was beginning to set in. I was reaching into the first aid kit to retrieve an ace bandage when I heard Sophia's voice behind me.

"You never said it was this bad Hunter!" Her voice still held the anger of storming off a few minutes before, but also a new concern.

"I can handle it. Why aren't you looking for people?" I asked, trying to divert her attention from where I stood with my pants around my ankles.

"There's no one here, Hunter. Now let me do that. Sit down," she commanded as she pushed my shoulder so I fell into one of the chairs surrounding the table. She knelt in front of me, pressing her fingers carefully against my knee, causing me to wince.

"Hold still," she admonished, glancing up at me. I squirmed once more but tried to heed her instructions. As the initial pain of her fingers against the bruise subsided, her cool fingers on the hot skin of my swollen knee actually felt good.

"I don't think anything is broken. It looks like just a really bad bruise, but it could be a sprain." She looked up and for the first time, I really, truly looked at her. I didn't see her as the stuck-up pre-med student who sat in front of me in organic last semester. I saw her instead as a woman, a woman with large, deep brown eyes, beautiful eyes and the sharp response I had formulated in my mind came out as a simple "good".

"I'm going to wrap it now," she said, turning to grab the ace bandage from the table. As she did so I admired the profile of her face. She had a slender face with a prominent nose and chin that fit her usually quick, sharp personality. The beauty drew part of my attention, but what I noticed most was the way the fabric of her sweater tightened across her chest as she reached for the bandage, accenting her small, firm breasts. Just as I started to admire them, though, she turned back and I had to look away because pissing off the person bandaging you is generally a bad idea. I winced once more as she first touched my skin, but as she started to wrap the bandage tightly around my knee, I let myself enjoy the sensation of her fingers moving deftly over my leg. I also noticed that while she worked, her tongue poked out of the right side of her full lips. I felt myself overcome with an urge to kiss those lips, to feel that tongue against my own. All these sensations and feelings started to have an effect on me, so I decided to try to redirect my attention to something more appropriate.

"So what exactly did you hear about me that makes you think I get into trouble?" I asked.

She paused her wrapping for a second, not meeting my eyes. After a moment, she resumed wrapping as she said, "I believe it was Wallace Marshall whose car ended up on top of the music building last semester." She looked up as she finished talking. I couldn't hide the smirk that crossed my face as she looked directly into eyes.

"Firstly, I had nothing to do with that incident. Secondly, he definitely deserved it," I said defensively. As she turned back to work on the bandage again I thought I saw the hint of smile on her lips.

"That's not what your friend Ramon says. He seems to think you were the one who opened up the music building for him and the other guys who dismantled Wallace's car. He even claims you have keys to half the buildings on campus. So tell me, Hunter, why would he think that?" she asked, keeping her eyes focused on her work. I could see the corner of her lips turn up slightly.

"I'd say Bender has been spending too much time alone in the engineering lab. I guess I'll have to talk to him about getting out more," I said as I made a mental to talk to him about spilling my personal business to other people. Having a reputation for causing trouble is one thing, but people knowing the mechanics and other incriminating details of the trouble is a whole other matter.

"Why do you call him 'Bender'?" she inquired.

"That goes back to when we rushed Zeta Epsilon freshman year. That was the nickname he got. It's a reference to a robot, in a cartoon that was made in Mexico. Ramon is half Hispanic and wants to go into robotics, so it works," I said just as Sophia finished securing the bandage.

"There, that's done. It should last until you get it looked at, which you need to," she said, the old crispness returning to her voice as she moved to sit in one of the chairs across from me. I scrambled to pull my pants back on.

We just sat there in the room in the bluish light of the lantern. I could feel the awkwardness building between us. I could not understand why she acted so distant. While she was working on my leg she seemed more warm and caring, but the second she was done, the walls went up once more.

"Have you eaten dinner yet, Sophia?" I asked simply.

"No, I haven't. I was going to once I finished studying," she replied, glancing at the door, as if to will away the storm hindering her studies.

"Well, I doubt you're going to get much more studying done tonight, so why not have some dinner? That's what I'm going to do." I suggested.

"What do you have to eat in that bag, trail mix and granola?" she said, sarcasm dripping from her voice.

"Sorry, no trail mix or granola, but I do have some energy bars if you want. However, I'm going to heat up one of the cans of soup. I have beef stew, chicken noodle, potato soup and Vichyssoise," I said with a smile.

"Vichyssoise is just cold potato soup," she said, clearly missing my joke.

"You're not an easy crowd, are you? Beef stew it is, then." I got out the mini cook stove and simple stainless steel pot I kept in the duffle. I busied myself with pouring the soup into the pot and getting the stove started. Once that was settled, I tried talking to her again with a different tactic. "Why a doctor?"

Her head turned up from staring blankly at the flame of the little cook stove. "What do you mean?"

"Why do you want to be a doctor, Sophia? What made you pick that career and not something easier like being a business major?" I asked, for once actually caring about the answer, rather than just making small talk.

"I always wanted to help people," she responded quietly.

"Everyone says that. Surely there has to be more to it than that? If you just wanted to help people, you could be a nurse or volunteer at a soup kitchen. What made you choose a path that includes a decade of schooling?" I pushed, wanting to see more of the beautiful girl than just the cold exterior.

"I'm smart enough to do the schooling, so why shouldn't I?" she snapped. Then she paused. "At least, that's what my parents kept telling me."

"What do you mean? Don't you think you can do it? I mean you're a straight A student!" I responded, slightly taken aback.

"Yeah, so are a lot of pre-meds. Even you're an 'A' student, Hunter. You're always talking about the concepts in class but you never study, while I bust my ass studying all the time to just keep my head above water. I mean, do you know how fucking frustrating it is to watch all the other students talk about getting A's or B's and how little they studied? Or to sit in your room and read for hours while your roommates go to bars? Or to look for a study room in the library, but they're all taken by couples? I haven't been on a single date in the time I've been at Sampson. The last time I kissed a guy, let alone fucked one, was the summer before I came here. You don't know what it's like to constantly worry about medical school and grades and not having a social life. You're having the time of your life breaking into buildings with your friends, but you have that perfect GPA. It comes so easy to people like you. I just don't understand it."

As I watched, the anger drained from her, and tears started to run down her cheeks, those beautiful eyes now all red and swollen, her breasts rising and falling with her ragged breathing. She looked nothing like the proper, frosty Sophia I knew, and in her wake was an exhausted, uncertain girl. But still in this disheveled state there was a beauty in her that called to me, that made me want to move closer, to wipe away her tears. I wanted to kiss those full lips, to bring a smile to them instead of a sob, to make her breathe out of exertion instead of anger.

But I didn't. I couldn't use her emotions to manipulate her, couldn't prey upon her vulnerability. As much as I wanted to enact these thoughts, to play out these feelings I had for her, I wanted to do it to the confident Sophia in all her willingness. I didn't want to settle for a mere shadow of that, and that shadow was all she could give in this moment. So I pushed the feelings back and began to speak. "I'm not an A student. You're not the only one worried about graduate school."

"What do you mean?" she asked, confusion evident through her tears.

"Just what I said. I'm not an A student. You said I always seem to know things in class, and sure, I get the concepts, but I do horrible on tests. I can't memorize things, and when I do manage it, it's always the wrong thing. I passed organic by the skin of my teeth, and I missed B's in genetics and biochemistry by a point. My GPA is a three point one. So you're not the only one worried about getting into grad school. Do you know how often I'm woken up by nightmares of not getting into grad school?" I exhaled abruptly. "It's just...It's not just you."

Her breaths were slowing down and becoming more controlled. I reached into the pocket of my coat behind my chair and tossed a pack of tissues to Sophia. She carefully wiped the tears from her face. Once she had regained some of her composure, she inhaled deeply and asked, "If you aren't doing so well in class, why don't you study more?"

"I do. I spend most of my day studying in my room. I don't spend nearly as much time with friends as you seem to think. I made a lot of those friends my freshman year, and we see each other occasionally, but I bet I don't spend more than five hours with friends in a whole week. So yeah, I get spending hours a day studying. Only, instead of just seeing my roommates going out, it's my friends asking me to come with them, and I have to tell them no," I said, sinking into my chair. It was uncomfortable, admitting the truth and destroying my carefree façade.

We sat silently for a few minutes, awkwardly glancing at each other as our revelations hung in the air between us. Finally the silence was broken by the sound of the stew beginning to bubble. I stood, wincing as I put weight on my knee, and reached to turn off the stove. I poured half of the stew back into the can, pushing it towards Sophia with a set of disposable utensils.

"Not very fancy, but it's warm," I said in my best attempt at an old cowboy accent. The stress of the situation combined with the perplexed look on Sophia's face made me start laughing. After a few seconds, she joined in. She had a very warm laugh that made me want to hear more of it. "You have a beautiful laugh Sophia, you should use it more." She turned her chair and then her head so her face was hidden.

"Thanks," she murmured uncertainly.

"Let's pretend we're not trapped in the science building and that, for once, neither of us has anything to study for. What would you do with that time? And don't you dare say something about pre-med prep," I said mock accusingly.

"I don't honestly know. I haven't had free time. I have no idea what I'd do with it." she said looking up at me.

"Surely you can think of something. What about music? What music would you listen to? I have you pegged as a Bach and Beethoven kind of gal," I said, and she burst out with that wonderful laugh of hers.

"Actually, I like more modern artists like Pink, 3OH!3, and occasionally the musical stylings of Lonely Island," she said through her laughter.

"Lonely Island?" I said, taken aback.

"Yeah, you know, 'I'm on a boat'," she said, raising her hands the way a rapper would.

"I know who they are. I'm just surprised you do," I said.

"There's a lot more to me than you seem to think, Hunter," she said with a confident air that made me want her all the more.

"Really now, Sophia?" I said, meeting her self-assured gaze, and then I smiled as I said, "I'd love to be shown more parts of you." I saw the color return to her cheeks at this statement but she kept her eyes locked on mine.

"I'm sure you would love to, Hunter, but why don't you start by showing me a part of yourself?" Her eyes still pinned me, examining me so carefully I almost felt naked before her. Those eyes called to me to come closer, to kiss the woman who captivated me.

"Well, one part of me is my love of romance novels."

Again her intoxicating laugh filled the air. "Really? Like the ones where the helpless heroine falls for her big, strong rescuer?" she said, putting her hand against her forehead and pretending to swoon.

"Actually more along the lines of the woman who falls for the big, strong man who sweeps her off her feet, then ties her to the bed and spends the night bringing her to the highs of desire and pleasure. Some call it smut, others call it erotica. I just stick to the innocuous romance, because it raises fewer eyebrows." As I said this, the hand came off her forehead and settled on to the table beside her. She looked at me with an attention and curiosity usually reserved for class work.