Winter Season

The invitation

Ask. A voice inside his head called. Ask. “I…” he stammered looking away from her; “made a large pot of soup and I’d be honored if you’d join me for dinner.”

She was stunned. The two halves of her spoke at once saying hell no and trust him. Should she let down her guard and accept his invitation? Shoot, she’d already spent the better part of the evening playing in the snow with him. “Why not?” She smiled, shoving her hands into her pants pockets.

“There’s no reason why not. Either you want to or you don’t.”

“Oh, you really are an ellic through and thru” She giggled.

At the door, Oscar took her coat, slipped off his shoes, then spread out her coat in front of the fire place. It was soaking wet. When he took his coat off, he was dressed very handsomely. He had on a pair of jeans and a dark gray sweater and a white dress shirt with pink and gray stripes on under the sweater. Very metro, she thought. She had this strange notion in her head that because he lived in God’s Country that he would be wearing Carhart and flannel. Not that there was anything wrong with it. It was just an image she had in her mind.

“Do I need to take my shoes off?” There was a hint of concern in her voice.

“I never ask my guest too.” He studied her face. He could tell this made her uncomfortable. She wasn’t anything like any of the women he knew. The couple women he had invited over to his house had no reservations about taking their shoes off. Odor or not.

“But you prefer them too?”

He gave a slight grin as he lowered his head toward the floor, “yes.”

She took her shoes off right beside his. Nail polish! He thought. Nail polish? He disappeared into the house. As she looked around the room, she noticed the coffee table covered with papers. Some had big red grades on them. Other’s didn’t.

“School teacher?” She asked as he walked back into the room.

“Yes, high school science.” He handed her a pair of socks.

She blushed, “thanks. I packed all of mine up. Silly me didn’t lay a pair out to wear.”

“It happens.” He picked up her shoes and put them as close to the fire as he could get them before toddin’ off again.

She sat down in the floor between the coffee table and the bay window looking out toward her house. She couldn’t help but notice that the entire living room was oriented so that he could look out the window. But as she studied the room, it was a logical choice unless he wanted to stare at the fireplace.

For a man, his living room was well put together. His couch was chocolate brown with tan pillows; two overstuffed recliners were tan with chocolate brown cushions. The fireplace was behind the couch. It seemed a little odd that the back of the couch was toward the fireplace. But what was oddest of all, no t.v. There were a couple framed prints on the walls and several live plants. The room was neat and very tasteful, except for the papers around and covering the coffee table. She figured he was either metro sexual or gay.

He sat two cups beside her in the floor before he sat down. “Hot chocolate.”

She took the warm cup, nuzzling it to her nose. “If you don’t mind me saying, all the men I know,” she breathed in the heat from her cup as she corrected herself, “knew that enjoyed hot chocolate are gay.”

“The straight ones don’t know what they’re missin’.” They both laughed. “Thank you.”

Winter Season