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In an airport in the southern United States, a room full of strangers sits quietly. The electricity is still on, but the weather outside has already done its damage. An icy air hangs over the room, passengers irate and sour about the shutdown. A woman cradles her crying baby in her arms, desperately trying to sooth it and dispel the dirty looks one gentleman in a corner was giving her. It seemed like the weather outside had frozen everyone’s hearts.
Ugh, this sucks, Callum dropped his head against the back of his chair. ‘Snowed In’. These people don’t know what it means to be ‘snowed in’. Here he was, stuck in an airport because they think two centimeters of snow is the end of time.
“Don’t worry, at least we’re inside. Safe and warm,” a man sitting across from him smiled at him. It was certainly a nice change from the room’s tone: lifeless. Callum gave him a half smile in return.
“Yeah, negative two. I can’t believe your national guard hasn’t deployed.” The man looked at him funny, and so he had to translate. “Twenty-eight degrees Fahrenheit.”
“Ah!” he smiled.
Callum snickered, “So, where were you flying?”
“Mexico,” he scoffed and pointed to his wife, “she said that flying was the better choice. We would have already been there if we’d driven. We would have left before this storm.”
“No, you would have stopped so many times to use the bathroom that we’d still be caught in the snow,” his wife rolled her eyes and looked at the newspaper. Callum laughed at them and shook his head.
“Heading down for the good tequila?” he moved to stand from his seat. The blond-haired wife looked up and smiled at him.
“Nope, the warm sand. Those other days are behind me.”
“Yep, yesterday is behind us,” her husband laughed. His wife shot him a dirty look and crossed her arms at him.
“Do you want to get into this now, Corvus?” she raised an eyebrow. ‘Corvus’ dropped his head and looked off to the side.
“No, dear.”
Callum shook his head at them, then excused himself so he could buy some food. Something warm would be nice, like a biscuit.
The south has good biscuits, yeah? Walking past the rows of seats from the 80’s, gifted from the 70’s, he walked over and climbed the stairs. The waiting area was sunk below the shops and inter-terminal walkways, creating a sense of separation from the rest of the airport. He walked past several shops looking for food, most of them closed. He figured as much. This was a smaller airport, unlike Hartsfield-Jackson where he had planned to eat. He regretted ever taking this business trip. Then again, nobody else at work wanted to be flying on the eve of Valentine’s Day. They were all on their vacations, probably drinking too much wine. Selecting a decent looking shop, one of two opened, he approached the counter.
“Order?” the teenage worker asked. He looked over the menu and tried to select an item.
“What are butter grits?” he asked and pointed at the order’s picture. It looked like gritty, yellowed mashed potatoes. The worker scrunched her nose and rested her hands on the counter.
“Grits, with butter in ‘em,” she answered in a condescending tone.
He held his tongue as he clarified, “What are grits?”
The girl’s eyes grew wide, and she looked at him like he’d asked her what air was.
“It’s… corn. Y’all don’ got that up north?”
“Not really,” he sighed and continued looking over the menu.
“Try number four,” a voice popped up from behind him, “it’s salty, but the ham is so good.” Callum turned around to the sight of snow-white hair and pale skin. It was a woman, about his age, who’d recommended the meal. She smiled at him as she leaned against a column. Glancing down, a broad smile covered his face as he took in her clothing. It wasn’t her jeans that made him smile, but her purple sweater that depicted a reindeer in ninja’s attire, dual wielding swords and… berry juice dripping down the blades.
“How salty?” he asked for clarification. She looked 100% comfortable in her sweater, far better than the slacks and grey dress shirt he’d worn for the meeting today. The only comfortable item he had on was his scarf and maybe his jacket.
“About enough to pucker your lips,” she smirked and leaned her head to look past him, “I’ll have one too.”
“I guess I’m having the number four,” he laughed, “Does it come with a biscuit?”
“They all come with ‘biscuits’,” she rolled her eyes and walked past him, “And this one is a scone.” He glanced her up and down, taking in her fit appearance.
“How does someone like you know about butter with bread on the side?” he laughed. She has an elegant curvature, he thought as he looked at her legs, hips, adorably-sweater-covered waist, and shoulders. When she arrived in front of the register, she bounced to a stop on the front of her feet. He couldn’t help but smile at her. She’s like an adorable, oversized plushy.
He was smiling goofily at her when he realized she was looking back at him.
“I’ve been flying a lot recently,” she didn’t comment on his reddened face and turned around to the worker. “And I’m paying for both of us. That way if you don’t like it, you didn’t have to buy it.”
“What?” he looked at her dumbfounded. Why is she being so nice?
“My treat,” she stood tall and proud. He couldn’t tell if she was being goofy, or…
Wait, right… Valentine’s Day is tomorrow. She’s hitting on me. Day of romance, eroticism, and rubbish. The worker didn’t pay them any attention as she took her money and handed over the food. The woman who’d chosen his meal for him took both bags and motioned for him to follow her. Awkward, but hungry, he let her lead him to a table. I’m flattered, but I’m not into the “mile high club” kind of thing... I do appreciate the food, though. I can pay you back, he practiced how to get out of this. He cursed himself for letting her see him smiling at her. She was pretty, but he didn’t want… that. She sat down and pushed his bag across the table, asking him to take a seat across from her.
“So, how depressing is this place?” she spoke as she pulled out her greasy bacon, egg, highly salted ham, and butter biscuit. “Everybody is acting like cupid shot himself and died, and there won’t be a Valentine’s Day. They’re as depressing as their winter ‘protocols’: sit and cower in fear.” He understood exactly what she was talking about, and snorted in agreement as he pulled out his own biscuit. Before he was able to take a bite, a hand popped in front of his vision. She was offering him napkins. Lots of napkins. It was a good thing, too. He’d probably need to wash his hands after eating the flakey butter-covered biscuit.
“Would you rather the airport put on ’Fifty Shades of Grey’ in light of the holiday?” he laughed and bit into his food. Okay… butter does make everything taste good.
“Pft-,” she scoffed at him, “You’re one of those basic American’s, aren’t you? I’m surprised you didn’t say they should play ‘Nice & Slow’ or ‘American Girl’ over the intercom.”
He held up a crumb-covered finger and spoke through a full mouth. He wouldn’t let such a transgression happen, “Let me be clear. I’m Canadian.”
“Ahh,” she relaxed in her seat, “Hi Canadian, I’m Rayla.”
He froze, food in his mouth, like an idiot.
Did she… dad joke me?
“I guess we’re stuck in this butter hell hole together,” she smiled and took another bite of her food. “What’s your name and favorite movie?”
“It’s Callum,” he swallowed and smiled awkwardly, “And any movie?”
“No, favorite holiday movie,” she gestured to the airport around them, “but not this holiday. The airport is already teeming with virility.”
“Oh, virility, huh?” he laughed, “This airport is the safest place to be from virility. And my favorite holiday movie is ‘How the Grinch Stole Christmas’.”
She narrowed her eyes and leaned forward, pointing an accusing finger at him, “Which one?”
He wasn’t sure why, but he narrowed his eyes back at her and counter-challenged.
“You’ve got to tell me your favorite holiday movie, first.”
“Rush Hour,” she eyed him and, without breaking eye contact, took a large bite of her food. She wasn’t paying attention though, and took off a bigger bite than she could chew. Crumbs fell out of her inflated cheeks, and she panicked. She coughed and covered her mouth to try and get her situation under control, while also attempting to hide her embarrassment.
Callum smirked at her and handed over a few napkins, “That is not a holiday movie.” Beat-red and avoiding eye contact, she took the napkin from him and wiped her mouth.
“I watch it every holiday,” she mumbled and took a sip of her drink to wash down the bread. “It’s how I like spending my holidays…”
“Oh…” he didn’t realize the comment would have an edge. He thought she’d make up some banter in response. So, he smiled sweetly at her, “Well, I guess it is a holiday movie then. The best holiday movie, in fact, since you watch it for every celebration.” A slight twinkle appeared in her eyes, and she nodded.
She didn’t seem like she had ill intentions.
“So, listen, I can pay you back for the food, I—”
“Nope,” she answered as the smile came back, and she tossed her napkin onto the table, “my treat. Trading a few ‘bucks’ for a conversation is a steal of a deal.”
“Oh,” he smiled. No strings attached, other than pleasant ones. And talking to someone is better than sitting alone quietly. “So, what are you doing in the states?”
“Visiting my fathers,” she replied nonchalantly, “they moved out of Scotland when one of them took a job here three years ago. What about you?”
“Business,” he laughed, “Your visit seems much more enjoyable. I would have liked to visit my dad and brother.” He bent over the table and took a large bite of his biscuit, savoring the flakey texture. Oddly, she smiled warmly at him while he ate, giggling when he checked to make sure crumbs weren’t covering his face.
“I’m sure that would have been nice. Are you looking forward to Atlanta? I hear they’re even worse about the snow there.” He chuckled at the dig, but then he paused and replayed her question in his head.
How’d she know where I’m flying?
“We’re in the same dreadful terminal,” she answered his thoughts and pointed to where they had both come from. She took his empty food bag to throw it away, “We’re both flying to Atlanta. Whenever the snow ends anyways… I saw you talking to that married couple, so I thought I’d come over and say hello. You seemed willing to engage with others.”
“Oh,” his smile turned bright. It was contagious apparently because Rayla beamed at him in response. At least someone in this airport didn’t let the snow ruin their mood. Feeling better about the situation, he relaxed some. “Speaking of things ending, you know Christmas is over, right?” he nodded at her sweater. She scoffed at him and covered the image with her arms.
“How dare you insult my clothing! After I bought you food, too!” she turned her nose up at him to hide her smile. Picking up both of their rubbish in a goofy-dainty fashion, she went to throw it away. Callum laughed at her theatrics and relaxed into his seat.
Okay, she’s nice. And entertaining, he grinned. When she returned, he held up his hands and begged for forgiveness. “I’m so sorry about insulting your awesome reindeer sweater. Christmas was only… what, two-ish months ago? Pft, that’s nothing. Can you ever forgive me?”
“Damn right,” she nodded at him, “and I’ll accept your apology, on one condition.”
“Oh! Please tell me!” he held his clasped hands out and made her giggle, “Tell me so I can make things right!”
“Hmm, I don’t know if you’re up to the task,” she crossed her arms and looked at him. “It may be publicly embarrassing if we fail. Can you live with twenty-ish people looking at you funny for the next few hours?”
He snorted and lowered his hands, “Twenty people?”
“-ish, twenty-ish,” she tapped her nose and then pointed at him, “Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to lead a game with me.”
“Oh, do I get a cool spy name?” he grinned and lifted his hand to his ear, pretending he was wearing a mike. Feeding off of each other’s rising energy, she smirked and beckoned him to follow her.
“We shall see. Come! We are going to breathe love into this airport,” she quickly walked towards their gate and motioned for him to follow. “Screw all that… carnal stuff. What about the other types of love?”
“EXCUSE ME!” Rayla shouted as she reached the bottom of the stairs to their terminal’s waiting area. She held her hands in the air and visually attracted everyone’s attention. Callum stopped dead in his tracks halfway down as he followed her.
Oh, she really meant it.
“Hi!” she yelled happily, “I’m Rayla, and this is Callum.” She turned around and held her arms up flamboyantly to present him. His face burned profusely red as he waved to the crowd of twenty-ish people looking at them. “We think we should all do something other than sit in fear of talking to someone we don’t know. It is Valentine’s Eve, after all. Where’s the love?” A few of the sitters tilted their heads at her in confusion, but most looked at her like she had a few screws loose. Callum liked it though, however embarrassing it was. “Callum?” she turned around and smiled.
“Um, yeah,” he spoke in an inside-voice and nodded.
“So!” she spun around and clapped her hands, “We’re going to ask for all of the couples to raise their hands, held together.” The ‘crowd’ looked at her silently and failed to listen. She waited patiently as she stared out at them, hopeful and waiting for someone to follow her instructions. Callum was about to touch her shoulder and tell her they could continue to talk elsewhere when the man he had talked to earlier, Corvus, took his wife’s hand in his and rose them in the air. “Wonderful!” she beamed at them and then motioned for Callum to stand closer to her, “I take it no one else has tied the noose?”
“It’s ‘tied the knot’,” one woman spoke up.
“Same difference,” a man across the room laughed. Chuckling, laughter, and snorts filled the room as the ice was finally broken. As the frigid air blew away, Callum laughed and nudged Rayla with his elbow. He had to hand it to her, she was changing the entire atmosphere. When he turned to smile at her, his breath caught in his throat. Her eyes shined radiantly, ecstatic that her efforts were succeeding.
She’s… beautiful, his heart thrummed in his chest. Her personality, her glowing energy, the goofiness, no one was more attractive than she was right now.
“What’d you have in mind?” he forced the words out of his mouth, feeding the flame in her eyes. Her smile brightened the room, and it should have melted the snow out on the runway.
“We’re going to play ‘The Newly Not Strangers Game’!” she spoke so everyone could hear. Callum laughed at her wording and smiled. Her energy was enough to make everyone in the whole room happy, two-fold.
“That’s stupid!” an older man yelled from a corner. Callum, and a few others, looked over at him and were shocked by his rudeness. If he didn’t want to play, he didn’t have to. But why be so rude?
Wishing to continue to see her smile, Callum turned around to tell Rayla that not everyone had to play. But when he saw her, a lump caught in his throat. That light that shined so brightly before had been smothered down to a single coal, as dark as her pupils. It was as if the man had dumped a bucket of ice-water over her. Seeing the vitality in her eyes die so suddenly ignited something in him, and he didn’t realize what he was doing before he spun around and spat back at the man.
“Oh well! Go sit over in terminal B if you don’t want to play, while we have fun!” he lashed at him.
The room sat in shock.
A stranger whistled at his outburst, and then a few others murmured in agreement with Callum. The rude man looked at the crowd distastefully, condemning them for going along with this little scheme. Slowly, he packed his things and moved to terminal B, taking the last bit of cold with him. Callum, embarrassed by his sudden outburst, turned back to Rayla.
He found her giddily clapping her hands together in front of herself, the light returning to her eyes and extinguishing his rage.
“Okay!” she smiled brightly as the rest of terminal A turned in their seats to listen, “This is how it works! All of you couples, even the ones who didn’t raise their hands, find game partners other than your lovey-dovey partner! And if you know the person sitting next to you, find someone else!” She smiled at them and grabbed Callum by the shoulder, pulling him against her. “We will demonstrate how to play once everyone has a partner! In the meantime, introduce yourselves!” Awkwardly, people turned to one another and began saying hello. Names filled the room as Rayla pulled him into a huddle facing away from them.
Callum spoke first and didn’t even try to hide his admiration, “You’ve got quite the handle on this!”
“Yes, we do,” she shook him with her arm, “now, it’s simple. We lead questions, and they try to guess the answers based on how well acquainted they become while we make up the rules.”
“You’re making this up as you go?” he grinned broadly. She was definitely someone who he’d like to spend more time with.
“Yeah, you think I entertain airports for a living?” she winked. “Let’s stay huddled for another minute and let them keep talking.” Callum laughed and nodded. Her plan seemed to be working. Behind them, conversations took off and people laughed with one another. A few people played with the baby in the room, a child they’d all thought would make their flight miserable now bringing joy to them.
“Okay, sure. Have you got any plans for the big day tomorrow?”
“House hunting,” she rolled her eyes, “my fathers want me closer to them. But the houses here are so big. I don’t want to even think about cleaning them.”
“You could get an apartment,” he laughed. Her arm was warm on his shoulders, a cozy heat he desired to have more of.
“But, how will I stay warm if I don’t have a fireplace?” She looked at him earnestly.
“You don’t have to worry about that here, this weather isn’t common for them.”
“You assume I’m looking for a home here,” she held up a finger, “Let me be clear. I’m visiting. Living ‘closer’ doesn’t mean living in butter land.” She looked over her shoulder at the talking crowd and then ducked her head back down.
“One more question, and then we’ll start. But first, shake your head, so they think we’re disagreeing on something.”
“What?” he smirked. She widened her eyes at him and bounced her head, silently asking him to do as he was told.
He couldn’t resist those big happy eyes of hers, or her infectious smile… yeah, he was falling victim. He exaggeratedly shook his head, not caring that he was letting himself get swept away, eliciting a laugh from Rayla. He yearned to hear it more.
“What about you?” she smiled and asked, “You got anyone special back home? A syrup girlfriend perhaps?” Callum could see the faintest blush on her cheeks.
“I go home to an empty apartment,” he rolled his eyes, “I stay warm though, without a fireplace.”
“No one? Wait, let me guess. You beat them off with a stick?” she wiggled her eyebrows, “I need to know these things, so I can guess terribly about you.” She added theatrics for fun, but there was a modicum of hope in her question. He smiled and put his arm over her shoulders, completing their huddle.
“Nope. Most people aren’t… satisfied with me. Or, at least the ones I’ve known.”
“Well,” she smiled hopefully at him, “let’s be newly not strangers then.” She twirled out of their huddle, spinning him around with her, and stood up straight to address their audience.
The atmosphere in the room had completely changed. Some older men had wallets out and were probably showing pictures of grandkids to their seat-neighbors, no longer speaking to only their partners. Young women laughed together and told their Valentine’s Day plans, some in hushed tones while blushing. A few people had turned around in their seats so they could join more conversations across the rows.
“Okay, I admit, this is worth letting you buy me a biscuit,” he shook his head and nudged her shoulder playfully. This is a much happier evening.
“I’m glad you think so,” she smiled, “I was worried you’d think I was being creepy.” Turning and not letting him speak, she shouted, “Okay!” The conversation died down as everybody turned to listen, bright smiles awaiting commands. Callum wished he could spend more time around her… if they ever met again after tonight. She made him feel comfortable.
“Now, does everyone have a partner?” Heads nodded and people glanced at one another to confirm their partnership. Some even high-fived, mostly the young men. “Good! I hope you got to know one another, because now we’re going to ask you questions! You answer questions about your partner, and then ask if you were right. Whoever has more points between the two partners wins!”
“What do we win?” a young man asked loud and proud, a grin on his face as he looked at the elderly woman who he was partnering with.
“Bragging rights!” Rayla shouted and swept her arms out in front of her, “Or whatever you and your partner agree on. Perhaps a scone from the shop down that way?” she pointed to where she and Callum had eaten.
“I can vouch for them, the biscuits are in fact a good prize,” Callum spoke loudly like she did, furthering their act. Rayla couldn’t contain her happiness and giddily laid her arm across his shoulders again.
“Is everybody ready?” she pulled Callum into her, “You’ve got partners?” The group nodded, and some linked hands with a smirk. “Alright! Here’s a demonstration. Callum!” she barked and backed away from him, “What is my favorite holiday?”
Shit, I know the movie, but… “Umm, we didn’t talk about that.”
“Now, see,” Rayla turned to the laughing crowd, “this is where the heart of the fun lies! He doesn’t know, so he must make something up based off of unsound judgments. Now, try again.”
Callum nodded and looked her up and down. The reindeer sweater definitely feels Christmas-like, but with berry-blood. Her favorite holiday movie is Rush Hour, so it’ll be non-traditional.
“Halloween?”
“What? No, it’s,” she blinked and did a double take, then pointed down at her sweater, “it’s Christmas. You even commented on it earlier.”
“Oh,” he laughed nervously and felt the eyes of the crowd staring at him. She stepped over and put her arm back on his shoulder, giving him a comforting shake and looking at the crowd.
“So, as you saw, he over-thought the question. He was definitely on the right track, though. Halloween is my second favorite holiday. Go with some wild logic! Don’t be proper and deductive! The larger the leap you make, the more fun this will be! And relax,” she squeezed his shoulder, “be yourself! The point of this game is to get to know each other, so have fun!” The crowd nodded and smiled, preparing themselves for their own turn. She leaned her head to the side and whispered to him, “Ready?” Her cheer and gentle touch made the awkwardness melt away, and he was able to breathe and genuinely nod in agreement. “Alright, first question! Let’s start easy. Where is your partner’s final destination?”
Smirks and awkward blank faces spread across the crowd as they came up with answers. Fingers snapped in frustration at guessing the wrong location, and some clapped joyously upon answering correctly.
“Well, that’s easy,” Callum laughed and looked at Rayla, “Scotland.”
“Canada,” she smiled at him.
“Easy-peasy,” he shrugged, “Of course, I told you I’m Canadian, and you’re Scottish.”
“No, that’s not what I meant,” a smirk tugged on the corner of her lips, “My final destination is Canada. But yours is Canada, too.”
Really? “Pft-,” play it cool, “you know that because I told you,” he looked away from her, “you didn’t guess that.” Even though he’d looked away from her… her arm was still across his neck, she could probably still feel the heat rising in his skin.
“Oh, and one more thing!” she startled him by shouting over the commotion, “be somewhat specific! But, like, be sensible? I’m not responsible if you give your address out.” She turned to him and raised an eyebrow, “Now I’m guessing. You look like you’re from… Toronto?” Stunned, he couldn’t hide the answer from his face. Blood rushed to her face as she sharply inhaled, a different fire lighting in her eyes.
Was she… hoping that I’m from Toronto? “Okay, yes, I’m going back to Toronto. And you’re visiting…” Investigate, play it cool. Don’t be obvious. “Québec?”
“Nope, that’s twice wrong in one question,” she bounced her eyes and taunted him. He tilted his head towards her and squinted at her, pushing for the answer she was hiding. Awkwardly, she let go of his shoulder and let her arm slip off of him. “We may have the same flight out of Atlanta.” She spoke softly and looked towards the crowd, hiding a blush that he had seen. “Alright, second question!”
Wait, I have a question!
“What… is your partner’s favorite animal?” she asked with a big grin, “Guess based off of what you know about each other!”
“But, we’re strangers!” a woman laughed and pointed at the little girl she was partners with. She was holding a toy pony in her hand, and she looked like she was about to burst to share all of the pony related facts that she knew. Noise once again filled the room as people tried to make judgments off of terrible reasoning.
“Cows, because I heard you turn down a burger earlier,” one girl laughed to another.
“One of those twitter birds,” an old man talked to a teenage girl, who rolled her eyes and laughed.
“FROGS!” one boy screamed at another child, and then they started playing leapfrog across the terminal.
Rayla laughed at them and turned to talk with Callum, “I bet you like-“
“Hang on,” he held up a finger, “When were you planning on saying you were going to Toronto? I told you I was Canadian. It’s a big country, yeah, but moving the conversation in the direction of, ‘Oh! I’m going to Canada too’ isn’t what I’d call a tangent.”
“Why does it matter?” she rose an eyebrow at him.
She… oh, she knew.
“Oh, well… um,” he stuttered. How could she not be someone you’d want to spend time with? Why wouldn’t he want to snuggle up against her under a blanket while reading a book? Playing with her cold little feet to warm them up… “Well, does that mean you’re looking for an apartment in Toronto?”
“I’m looking to live in many places,” she looked up and feigned putting on airs, “Now, guess my favorite animal.”
“Reindeer,” sarcasm dripped off his tongue as he stared at her purple sweater. She laughed at him and nodded her head.
“Very good, you’ve won a point. Don’t let it go to your head.” She then put her hand on her chin and observed him. She reached forward and grabbed his scarf, lifting it and checking for any sign of necklaces or embroidery that would help her. “You are one hard book to read,” she wondered and circled him. “Beaver?”
“How stereotypical,” he snorted, “It’s a finch.”
“A finch?” she smirked and walked back in front of him, “Oh, you definitely aren’t basic.”
“They’re cute. Small and adorable, like you,” he let sass nip back at her. He crossed his arms over his chest and raised an eyebrow at her. Then, his body froze like the ice outside. Oh, no no no, too much! Now she’s going to-
Rayla’s shoulders rose, and she hid her face between them. She partially hid a smile, nervous and happy at the same time. “Thank you,” she tucked hair behind her ear and crossed her arms, “that’s very sweet of you.” Callum’s muscles melted a little at the warmth in her voice, and a weird sensation emanated from his chest. “They’re so cute, finches I mean. And when you see a cute bird, you just want to cuddle them… am I right about that?”
Life breathed into his body as he felt every synapse warming, “Exactly that.” Giddy, she clenched her arms around herself tightly before nodding and turning away. She tried to collect herself before asking the next question by taking a deep breath. It took her two deep breaths, however.
“Okay! I hope you’re keeping score! Let’s get slightly more personal: what is your partner’s type? Humor, personality, and other non-objectifying traits are welcome. For those who are too young to know their type, or those with the lack thereof, guess who they like to be friends with!”
Young men smirked at each other and loudly proclaimed their ‘types’ while looking at those they were interested in. Young people paired with older generations blushed as their elderly partners shamelessly over-shared, and one older man turned to his wife and pinched her bum. One young boy, a teenager, spoke to his partner in a panic while his boyfriend stared at the back of his head and into his soul. He was desperately trying to list off as many of the physical details about his boyfriend as he could, without looking at him.
“Well? You’ve been guessing first,” Rayla’s voice interrupted Callum’s smirking as he watched the people talk and enjoy themselves.
“Umm…” he looked her up and down and tried to buy himself time as he thought, “I’m gonna sssssayyy… your type issssss…”
“Ssssssss-assy?” she mocked him with a grin.
“No,” he rolled his eyes. To hell with it. “How about… Canadians?” Oh yeah, subtle as a reindeer ninja.
She faked a gasp and spoke in a posh tone, “Oh my! I would never be so shallow as to let nationality be a deciding factor in such a delicate choice!” He laughed with her, and she pushed his shoulder. Again.
“Well, all I know is that your fathers live nearby and that you’re looking for a home with a chimney.”
“Well, come on, it’s not that hard,” she put her hands on her hips and raised her eyebrows at him, “you’re not trying. I’ll give you another attempt.” He laughed genuinely at her. Something about her… made things comfortable. She was goofy and silly and different, but in her own wonderful way. And she lit up rooms and could make everyone in them happy. She was intoxicating to be around, and it warmed him from the inside out, like a hot cup of cocoa on her favorite holiday.
“Guys who are wearing scarfs?” he blushed and locked in his meaning by looking down at his red scarf.
They could move out of the hinting stage and start being direct. Why not? They were newly not strangers.
Rayla hummed happily and looked up at the ceiling, “Hmmm, depends. You’re not going to take it off, are you? Because if I say yes, and you take it off, then I’ll be stuck with some boring normie wearing a scarf. They’ll be, like, half as cute as you are.” He blushed profusely and shook his head ‘no’. Happy, Rayla nodded her head.
“Then yes, you get a point. Now, I bet your type is… darin’,” she smirked at him and placed a hand on her chest, indicating she was giving herself a compliment and confirming their little game. He chuckled and looked down at his feet.
“Well, that is… attractive. But no, I wouldn’t call that my ‘type’.”
“Oh?” she lowered her head down to look at his face, “Then do tell, what is your type?” She scratched the side of her leg nervously as she waited for him to answer. She tried to put on a reassuring smile as she waited, but she was nervous that something was wrong. It felt better knowing she was as much of a wreck as he was right now, even if she hid it better. He smiled at her to calm her nerves.
Maybe they could get coffee back at home while she was in town. He could even show her around and recommend some neighborhoods.
“My type is a cuddler,” blood burned in his ears as he answered. Her mouth opened, eyes widened, and… she froze in happiness.
“So, you would prefer a cuddler over the ‘Fifty Shades of Grey’ type?” she asked, unabashedly displaying her hope for a yes.
He brimmed with glee, “‘Prefer’ isn’t strong enough for that sentence. I want to cuddle with someone by a fireplace under a blanket. A book in hand, too. Maybe… you’ll find a living arrangement in Toronto, and it’ll have a fireplace? I have several comfy blankets if you’re interested…” he smiled and looked at her sweater again. She looked like an irresistibly comfortable cuddle-buddy.
“I’d like that,” she nodded and pushed a white lock of hair away from her red face. “Honestly, that’s the best thing I’ve heard all day.”
“You attracted attention? Shocker,” he laughed, “I hope nothing too racy.”
“Oh, you have no idea,” she faked a gag, “‘Hey there peach, you got some snow in yer hair. Why don’t you come on over to my place, where I can warm you up?’” He winced, and they laughed together. “You are by far more enjoyable to spend time with,” she smiled at him.
“So are you,” he replied with the same brightness in his eyes as she had when starting this game.
“Alright! Next question!” she put her arm around his waist and called out to the group, “Let’s get to know each other better!”
Inevitably, it was the older players who retired from the game first. They had eventually slumped against their seats. Other players offered up spare jackets and flight pillows to help them get comfortable and rest. Then it was the children, far beyond their bedtime and tuckered out from running around between questions. Ultimately, what ended the game was a wave of yawning through the crowd. Everyone was sleepy, and they didn’t want to continue to disturb their friends who had retired earlier.
Callum sat down on the floor with his jacket underneath him as padding, a large section of it spread out to his side to make room for Rayla. He’d given his seat to the mother of the sleeping baby so she could lie her head down in her husband’s lap. She had passed out before Callum had even found a new spot. It was probably going to be the best sleep she’s gotten in weeks, and it was in an airport no less.
Rayla came down the stairs with a wide grin on her face and sat down next to him, offering him his victory blueberry muffin from a vending machine. He smiled at her and was careful not to drop it as she handed it over. He opened the wrapper with a smooth tear and tenderly tore her off a bite.
“My treat,” he grinned, “tonight has been a steal of a deal. It’s been a lot of fun.” She smiled and took the offering, and they clinked their sweet bread together and bit down into his prize.
“Yeah, it has been,” she looked down at her food sweetly. She looked a bit nervous as she leaned over slightly and rested her head on his shoulder. He leaned into her in response and took another bite of his muffin.
“So, do you have any other job offers in Toronto besides the one?”
She smiled and twitched her hand towards his, “I’ve one in Ottawa, but it doesn’t pay as well and has half the benefits.”
“So, it’ll probably be Toronto that you move to? You’ll be staying-staying?” he asked, his heart swelling. This couldn’t get better.
“Well, not this trip,” she slid her hand over his palm and tapped between his fingers, asking to be let in.
He frowned at her, “No?”
“Yeah, for now,” she traced doodles on his palm with her nails, “I have to go back to Scotland and finish out my duties before I move.” He nodded and spread his hand, letting her fingers thread between his. He closed it around hers and engulfed her cute little hand. “You, um… aren’t expecting to meet someone else while I’m gone, are you? It’ll take a month for the decision, and another two for the move if it happens. You don’t mind waiting that long to see if this can happen, do you?” she squeezed his hand.
“I’m sorry. We played ‘The Newly Not Strangers Game’ earlier, so you should know that answer,” he smirked and finished the treat. “But… hey,” he stopped himself from letting it be something unsaid. If they were going to be away from each other for a few months, or longer if the move didn’t happen, something unsaid could become agonizing when anxiety hit. “Let me be clear. I want to wait for you.”
“I guess we aren’t strangers,” she squeezed his fingers with a smile, “I want to wait, too. Would you like to video call while I’m in Scotland? We can virtually cook dinner together, watch movies, I can try to show you goldfinches, and maybe have an exclusive book club with two members.”
“Video call dates where I don’t have to worry about after dinner expectations? That sounds like a perfect three months,” he nestled his head against hers.
She squealed quietly and pulled herself against his arm, “Yayyyyyy.”
Then, suddenly, his vision was blinded by a flying coat. Rayla laughed as they pulled it off of themselves, and Callum opened his eyes to see Corvus smiling at them.
“To hold in the heat,” he nodded at them while his wife, Opeli, dozed in his lap. Callum laughed and thanked him, then pulled Rayla into him and draped the coat over themselves.
“Comfortable?” she asked and sighed.
“Cozy,” he laid his head on top of hers and prepared to settle down for the night.
“So,” Rayla whispered, “tell me about Toronto. I want to know where the best coffee shops are.”