The Scars of Anatomy

21. Lights Out

"It's fucking freezing out here," I say, speed walking with Olivia to the science building, trying to seek warmth as fast as possible.

"Well, it is below freezing," she says, her voice slightly muffled by the thick scarf around her neck that she has her chin tucked down into.

"Smartass," I mumble, playfully bumping into her.

She giggles, jogging the rest of the way to the science building. I chase after her as it begins to flurry and sleet, the tiny little snowflakes and frozen pellets flying all around us.

Once inside, the sweet heat engulfs us and we begin to delayer. She peels off her gloves and unwinds the scarf around her neck while I remove my beanie, shaking out my dark brown hair, and unzip my winter coat. Looking down at my red, freezing cold hands, I cup them together in front of my face, breathing on them while continuously rubbing them together every few seconds, trying to regain feeling.

Olivia sniffles, shrugging off her backpack and setting it on a nearby bench to pack her winter accessories inside. I note how red the tip of her nose is, as well as the tips of her ears that were nipped by the cold.

I reach into my coat pocket, fishing out my beanie, and I walk up to her, placing the black knit fabric on top of her head, making sure it covers her ears.

She looks up at me with confused amusement, subconsciously reaching up to touch the fabric at the top of her head.

"Don't want your ears to fall off, Finch."

She smiles, shaking her head. "Says the guy whose fingers are almost blue."

I look down at my hands and back up at her, quirking a brow and taking a step closer. So close our bodies are almost touching, and I can faintly smell her vanilla perfume. "Want to warm them up for me?" I ask, my voice low.

Her smile fades and I watch her throat work on a swallow. She looks down at my hands, and surprisingly, she grabs them with her own. They look so small compared to mine, her fingers long, slender, and dainty compared to my rough, calloused ones. She holds little heat in her own hands, but I feel a flush slide over my body just by having her soft, gentle hands wrapped around mine.

"Have you thought anymore about my offer?" I ask, my voice raspy in the intimacy of what feels like our own little bubble.

After the club, on the car ride back to my dorm after our stop in the parking lot, I may have asked Olivia to spend Thanksgiving with me since we'd both be some of the rare few that aren't leaving town for the holiday—her since she lives here and me because I have nowhere to go, no family to see. The football team is holding a small get together at one of the frat houses, since most of us are staying in town because we have a game the next day. I invited Olivia but she seemed hesitant, and I guess I can't blame her. I'm not too keen on spending the holiday in a dingy frat house, either.

She looks up at me through her thick lashes, seemingly lost for a moment before regaining her mental footing. "I actually talked to my parents and you're more than welcome to stop by tomorrow if you'd like. It's just going to be us three, and dads making his famous lasagna," she says, with a convincing grin.

"Hmm," I tilt my head to the side, pursing my lips and looking up at the ceiling, pretending to think. "Thanksgiving at your house, or—"I tilt my head to the other side, seemingly weighing my options, "at a grimy frat house with guys that have deli sliced turkey sandwiches and reek of stale beer. That's a tough call, Finch."

She flashes me an exasperated look, playfully squeezing my fingers hard.

I chuckle, pulling on her hands and jerking her body forward the few inches between us so that she collides into me. I hear her soft gasp as soon as her chest presses up against mine and I can't help but grin, my teeth sinking into my bottom lip. "What time should I be over?"