Leo stretched his arms, eyes still closed. Suddenly, he felt an arm wrap around his upper body. His eyes opened in shock and he noted that he was sleeping on the couch – beside Viola, who was wearing nothing but a threadbare nightgown and had her arm around him. He couldn't tell if it were dawn yet, for it was snowing heavily outside.
"What's going on here?" Leo murmured, staring at Viola's gorgeous face. It was then that he noticed he was clutching her hip, and he pulled his hand back hastily, as if he'd burned it on a hot surface.
Viola shivered slightly and opened her eyes. "Leo…" she whispered softly.
"I'm… I'm sorry, Viola," Leo began to get up but Viola only closed her eyes and hugged him closer.
"It's so cold. Has the fire gone?" she asked drowsily.
Leo glanced at the roaring fire. "No… no. It's still there. But it's snowing."
"Ah…" she acknowledged. Her hand drifted downward so that she was clasping his bottom. She must've not realized it though.
Leo groaned and tried to remove her hand. "Viola…"
"Hmm?" She tucked her head onto his shoulder. It was then that Leo remembered why she was sleeping next to him on the couch. He'd been drunk and had taken a taxi from downtown to her little cottage in the hills, because he'd promised to check up on her that night. She didn't like being alone in the cottage when it snowed.
The two had been best friends ever since they met in high school. She thought he wanted to date her friend, and he fell for her right away. Nothing ever happened between them, but they were close friends – helping each other with relationship problems, work problems, family problems, or whatever. Sometimes people wondered why the two of them never dated, but Leo couldn't answer because he wondered too. He'd run a hand through his curling golden hair and shrug. Viola, on the other hand, only tossed her dark hair and smiled.
Now, both of them were in college and had to make time to see one another. It was hard but so worth it. No matter what, they called each other every night to recap the day's events. Sometimes, Leo would close his light blue eyes and imagine Viola's face when they were on the phone together. He'd imagine her plump lips, perfectly curved and naturally pink. He'd see her long hair and twinkling dark blue eyes. And then he'd feel a stirring in his pants. He'd always wanted her but never had her. Sometimes, he wondered if she'd ever hand anyone, but deep down, he knew (or hoped) that she hadn't.
So when he promised to stay the night with her at her cottage, he lectured himself severely. Don't try anything with her, keep it in your pants – that sort of thing. His drunken self had paid the taxi and stumbled up the walkway to the cottage's front door. His friends had persuaded him to go to a bar, and now he wished he hadn't gone. Leo's head swam with incoherent thoughts. He gave a loud laugh and then stumbled, falling onto the snowy ground.
Everything else was a blur. Apparently he'd been loud enough to wake Viola up, who had fallen asleep waiting for him. She'd somehow dragged him into the house – he hoped he hadn't tried anything – and gotten him onto the couch. The one thing he remembered clearly was the fact that he'd pulled her onto the couch with him and kissed her neck, before passing out.
Now, Leo groaned again as Viola's thigh rubbed against him. Did she know what she was doing to him?
