The Thermostat War

I have a long-standing war with my fiancé, Vic, and now that it’s December, the battles have only become more frequent. The subject of this war? The thermostat settings.

You see, Vic is kind of crazy. Considering that it’s wintertime, normal people—people like me—prefer the house temperature to be relatively warm. Not Vic. Vic likes to keep it at about -500 degrees. This has caused many an argument.

Tonight, I’ve had another victory. Recently, Vic and I have been battling over who falls asleep first, both of us fighting to keep our eyes open until one succumbs to slumber. Vic lost this time, so I changed the temperature to a warmer (and more logical) one. Now I’m back in bed, resting my head against his chest and letting myself finally fall asleep.

When I wake up the next morning, I notice that it is significantly colder, and I let out a frustrated whine, pulling the covers up in an attempt to get warm. The cons of falling asleep last? Often, this means you’re also the one waking up last, and Vic seems to have used this to his advantage.

“Viiiiiiic,” I groan, burying my face in my pillow.

From our shared bathroom, I hear Vic laughing quite obnoxiously. “Oops.”

"I hate you," I proclaim.

"When I woke up, I was dying of heatstroke. I had to turn it back down."

"Well, now I’m dying of frostbite," I reply, "so excuse me while I turn it back up."

"No. The guys are coming over tonight, remember? We don’t need them sweating to death."

"We don’t need them freezing to death, either." With that, I wrap all the blankets around myself and climb out of bed.

Vic pops his head out of the bathroom and laughs when he sees me. “You look like a giant burrito or something.”

"This is your fault, you crazy asshole." My jaw nearly drops when I notice that he’s wearing nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist, his hair still wet from his shower. "You’re not wearing anything? How the fuck are you not dead?”

"This is a perfectly reasonable temperature, Kellin," Vic replies calmly, looking like he’s trying not to laugh at me (again).

"It’s about as reasonable as putting a fish in the middle of a desert. You’ll regret this decision, young grasshopper." I wave my index finger at him in disapproval.

—

"Why’s it so fucking cold in here?" Jaime asks. He, Tony, and Vic’s brother, Mike, like to come over on Fridays for a movie night.

"Because Vic is Jack Frost, apparently," I reply from where I’m sitting on the couch, once again wrapped up in blankets. "Satanic Jack Frost."

"Well, can you turn the heat up a little?" Tony says.

Mike shrugs. “I think it’s fine.”

I look over at Vic, who’s out in the kitchen popping popcorn. “Okay, does this run in the family or something? You two are weirdos. Let’s turn it up.”

Vic just looks at me. I can tell he’s unwilling to give in, but Jaime and Tony are obviously cold. Plus, he’ll just look weird if he says no; nobody else really understands how seriously we take this thermostat war. So finally, he says, “Fine. But only a little.”

"Ha!" I jump up, abandoning the blankets and running over to the thermostat, sticking my tongue out at him as I change the temperature. "Another point for Kellin!"

"One day," Vic says. "One day you’ll surrender."

About forty-five minutes later, we’re all sitting in the living room, watching one of the Harry Potter movies, when Mike starts taking his shirt off. “Wow,” he says, fanning himself with his hand. “Is it just me, or is it, like, really hot in here?”

"Ha!" Vic laughs in my face as we’re sitting next to each other. "Point for Vic."

"It is not hot in here,” I argue.

"It kind of is," Jaime says. I flip him off.

"Come on, Jaime," I say. "You’re supposed to be on my side."

"Side for what?"

"The thermostat war."

"The what?”

I pause the movie and turn to Vic. “I challenge you to a duel.”

Vic raises an eyebrow at me. “Right now?”

"Yes, now. We need witnesses. We’re going to settle this once and for all."

"Okay." Mike stands up. "Can someone please tell me what’s going on here?"

"Kellin and I have a war going on," Vic explains. "Because I like it cold and he likes it hot. And now we’re going to have a duel to settle what temperature we shall set the thermostat at."

"Duel?" Tony says. "With what?"

Vic shoots him a knowing smile. “Remember last Christmas, when you got us both toy lightsabers because you had no idea what to buy us?”

The next thing I know, Vic and I are standing in the living room with the rest of the guys on the sides. I’ve got a green lightsaber, and Vic has a red one. The furniture has been pushed a bit to the side, and the guys are watching us from the edge of the room.

"Okay," Mike says—somehow, he’s been appointed as the referee. "This is gonna be a good, clean fight. Fencing style, okay? First to tap the other in the chest wins. Head shots don’t count. Neither do any other shots, for that matter. You can hit his arm all you want, but it won’t do you any good. Ready? Great. Three, two, one…go!"

The duel is quick but surprisingly intense. Vic and I are a mess of lunging forward and jumping back, of swinging and blocking. At first I think I’m winning, but then Vic makes a close call that has me almost falling over. He uses this moment to his advantage, stepping toward me and slowly but surely backing me against the wall. I swing wildly, blocking him, but I can’t seem to regain my footing.

"Aha!" he yells victoriously, somehow getting through me and tapping me in the chest. "Victory is mine!"

—

It is very cold.

The guys have left by now, and Vic and I are getting ready for bed. I’m done and waiting for Vic, who’s still in the bathroom. I’ve got all the blankets tightly wrapped around my body yet again, but I’m still freezing. Vic is pure evil. Why am I even engaged to him?

After a few minutes, he climbs into bed with me. I turn my back to him. “I’m mad at you,” I say. I don’t mean it, of course, but I’m not telling him that.

"Aw, c’mon, don’t be like that." He makes an effort to get closer to me, but I push him away.

"I’m cold, you asshole," I say, shivering for effect.

"Then why don’t you cuddle with me so you can get warm?"

I think that sounds like a great idea, but I’m not telling him that, either.

"Come on, Kellin. Seriously." He pulls some of the blankets away from me and wraps them around himself, then pulls me close to him by my waist. "I love you."

I’m feeling warmer almost immediately, but still I refrain from letting him know how much I like this. “You’re just saying that,” I say.

"No, I’m not." He pulls me even closer so that our bodies are right up against each other, tangled in each other. "I love you. You know I do. I wouldn’t have proposed to you if I didn’t." He kisses me on the temple.

I sigh, finally deciding to open up and be a little more romantic. “And if I didn’t love you,” I say truthfully, “then I wouldn’t have said yes.”

Vic beams, and there’s so much genuine love in his eyes that I decide to stop being an asshole and just accept that, yeah, I love him, too.

As he holds me close to him, I notice that this is a bit closer than we usually are. “Hey,” I say. “This whole thermostat thing…was this all just a ruse to get me to cuddle with you?”

He laughs, a knowing look on his face. “Well, not completely…”

I smack him lightly. “Oh my God. You are such an asshole. You could’ve just asked. I would’ve done it.”

"Yeah, but it’s better when it’s cold." When I stick my tongue out at him, he laughs again and adds, "Okay, okay. How about we compromise? I’ll make it warmer; just not as warm as you had it after your victories."

Well, I’ve already been defeated, so I don’t really have anything left to lose. “Okay,” I say finally, sighing. At least it’s better than being way too cold.