Cabin Fever

I stood in the massive bathroom, surveying my reflection in the wide mirror that nearly stretched from one corner of the room to the other. The short blonde beside me smiled through the reflection in the mirror, her dainty hands wrapped around a curling wand as she expertly did her hair. I gazed down at my own hands, which were slender and appeared bulky in structure.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go?” Katherine, or Kat as she preferred to be called, quipped. I shrugged nonchalantly, scrutinizing my appearance further. My features were much more harsh; I stood tall, lanky and awkward with a prominent bone structure, dark eyes, and a natural pout that just seemed out of place on my face. My mother had assured me that I possessed an exotic beauty that was staple for iconic symbols such as Vogue, but I had dubbed myself the ugly duckling mere years after my birth.

“Stop it.” Kat scolded me, and I realized I must’ve been critiquing myself out loud. I flashed her a wolfish grin as I fetched an elastic band from around my wrist, expertly tying my hair up into a sloppy bun.

“I’d rather not be in public with Viktor,” I told her briskly, as she not so subtly rolled her eyes at my childish answer. “You three can go have fun, I have some episodes of Supernatural that I still have to catch up on.”

“You’re not still mad at me, are you?” Kat set down the wand, following me as I strolled out of the bathroom and collapsed on the armchair in the master bedroom. I kicked my legs up over the arm, my feet dangling in the air.

“I’m not mad, Kat. It’s not your fault that Marcus decided to bring Viktor instead of Johnny. I would’ve had a ball with good ol’ Jon. He’s stiff, but after a few drinks he’s a hoot.” I told her dryly, watching as she began to swiftly change out of her pajamas and into a stunning evening gown.

Kat’s parents were wealthy attorneys who’d purchased this cabin in Eagle River, Wisconsin many years ago as a summer home. Kat and I had been coming here every winter season since we were of legal age, which wasn’t a very long tradition, but it was tradition nonetheless. She’d decided to bring her boyfriend Marcus, and Marcus had promised he would bring someone along so I wasn’t stuck playing the awkward third wheel.

I wasn’t too enthused when he showed up with Viktor Stalberg, of all the candidates he could’ve chosen from. While Marcus was meek, reserved, polite and respectful, Viktor was obnoxious, egotistical, crude, and shallow. I understood there was a certain brotherhood that came along with sharing the same ethnicity as someone on a hockey team, but I could not fathom how sweet little Marcus spent all of his time with someone as overbearing as Stalberg.

“How do I look?” Kat strutted about the room in a pair of sky-high stilettos, a deep investment she’d made in attempts to try and reach my impressive height. I stood up from the chair, smirking at her as she reached my nose.

“Add another inch and maybe one day, we’ll finally be the same height.” I teased her, patting her perfectly coiffed hair. She swatted my hand away with a playful glare, as she collected her skirts and pranced out of the room. I followed her into the living area, where Marcus sat on a leather sofa watching some weird program about creatures of the sea.

“You look stunning.” He whistled as he stood up, straightening out the pants of his expensive suit. I felt like a peasant among royalty as I took in the classy couple’s spiffy appearance.

“Let’s get going, it’s already after seven and the Thompsons are sticklers about timeliness for this gala. If my parents find out we’re late on their name, my mom will probably kill me.”

“Sorry babe, you should’ve gotten ready sooner.” Marcus teased her, offering her coat to slip into. I collapsed on the couch, watching the two of them bundle up with narrowed eyes.

“Krugs, where the hell is Ken doll?” I snapped, unable to get a whiff of the strong cologne that signaled Viktor’s presence. He and Kat shared a look, much like they did whenever I said something snarky about their tanned friend.

“He’s really sick. I think he got food poisoning from whatever he ate last night, so he’s staying in. Just let him rest, okay?” Marcus gave me that warning look that I’d gotten from my mother one too many times as a child. I rolled my eyes at him as I pulled a blanket over my legs.

I’d only been walking this planet for twenty-four years, but I considered myself a skilled craftsman in the art of lying and deceit. This being said, I doubted that Viktor was on his sick bed but I wasn’t going to argue. As long as he stayed sealed in his room, I had no complaints. I’d rather be in a cabin with him, instead of out in public. I’d have to pretend to play nice there. Here, anything went.

I tucked myself in beneath my blanket, my long legs folded beneath me as I pulled my laptop onto my lap and began to scroll through Netflix. I was finally becoming submersed in an episode of Supernatural, finding myself becoming sick with infatuation over Jensen Ackles’s good looks until I heard the creak of a door opening from down the hall.

I ignored the notion, assuming Viktor was stumbling down the hallway to continue puking up whatever disgusting delicacy he had devoured the night before. When I heard footsteps approaching, I felt whatever good mood I had plummet.

“That show is so stupid.” Viktor taunted me as he collapsed in one of the smaller sofas a safe distance from me. I glowered at him, snapping the laptop shut and twisting in my seat to face him.

“You are such a faker. Why the hell are you here?” I hissed, taking in the living Ken doll’s casual appearance. He was clad in a hoodie and a pair of shorts that hung low on his hips. His exposed skin was perfectly bronzed, as if he’d just gotten off the shores of Cancun. My eyes danced their way from his legs up to his face, which was sickeningly smug as he met my eyes.

“Like what you see?”

“I grew out of my doll phase when I was twelve, thank you very much.” I informed him tersely. He let out a bark of a laugh, throwing his head back in mirth as if what I’d said was the funniest thing he’d ever heard. “I’ll ask again, why the hell are you here?”

“I figured we could spend some quality time together, Demi.”

“It’s Demetra, thank you very much.” I snipped, hating the way he said my name as if we were old friends of some sort. He grinned at my obvious irritability, a row of perfectly white teeth taunting me. If my laptop weren’t so expensive, I would’ve thrown it at his head. Maybe he would stop smiling then.

“You used to let me call you Demi. Remember?” Viktor reached a hand up his shirt, scratching as his chest as he stared at me.

“That is in the past, Viktor. Neither you or I live there anymore, so get over it.” I was born with a quick tongue that I frequently exercised. Since I was awkward in composition and physically clumsy, I figured I was gifted this one talent to make up for those physical flaws. I thought it was a decent trade-off.

“Whatever, Demi.” He snatched the controller, switching the channel to something that surely would reverse whatever education he had. I dug my short, stubby fingernails into the sides of my laptop as I drove my teeth into my tongue.

Come to think of it, Marcus only said to let Viktor rest. He didn’t give direct instructions for me to leave him unharmed.