Rhonda looked at her house. And then at Dave, quizzically. And then asked, “Like what?”

Dave wanted Rhonda to stop asking him questions before he lost his nerve. Because he was losing his nerve. So he practically begged, “Just—can I come in?”

“Why? You gotta pee?” asked Rhonda.

“No.”

“’Cause you can pee out here.”

“I don’t have to pee.”

“Number two?”

“No—”

“’Cause you can do that out here, too. Got an old outhouse out back there.”

Rhonda’s cabin had originally been built as a hunting cabin with limited amenities, and there was an old outhouse in the woods not far from where they were standing. Not that Rhonda used it—her place had indoor plumbing and an impressive array of amenities.

“I don’t have to go to the bathroom,” groaned Dave.

Rhonda felt herself get hot in the ears and neck. Because the thought of Dave coming inside her house was making her really nervous for some reason. “Well, what do you gotta do?” she demanded.

“Nothin’, just—”

“Nothin’?” mocked Rhonda. “You rode all the way out here so you could tell me you wanted to come inside and do nothin’?”

“No—not nothin’. There’s just somethin’ I gotta do—inside—that I can’t really do out here.”

“Um…,” stalled Rhonda. This was weird. Dave had never been over to her house before—even though they’d been seeing a lot of each other since they met playing horseshoes at SummerDaze at the Rec Center over the summer.

They’d gone over to Dave’s a lot, though. Maybe because Dave was an excellent cook. (He worked in food services at Caribou High School.) So he made them dinner a lot. And after dinner they’d play cribbage and drink a little beer and maybe smoke a little smoke.

And they always had a great time hanging out at Dave’s.

But they had never hung out at Rhonda’s. Maybe because Rhonda never spent much time at her house. She slept there—but she spent most of her time out and about. She worked as much overtime as she could get. And she was the treasurer of the Northern Maine Snowmobile Association. And she was on the tribal council of the Aroostook Band of Micmacs.

All this to say—Rhonda had a big busy life. And she wasn’t home much. So she didn’t really hang out with people at her home.

And now it looked like she was going to hang out.

With a person.

At her home.

And that person was Dave.

And that made her uncomfortable.

“Rhonda?” asked Dave.

Rhonda had been in a daze and asked, “Huh?”

“Can we go inside?”

“Oh. Yeah, sure,” she said, trying to be casual about Dave’s request. And she gestured toward the back door of her cabin. And expected Dave to make his way inside.

But Dave didn’t. Instead, he scooted over to the storage compartment on the back of his sled.

“What’re you doin’?” asked Rhonda.

“I’m comin’, I’ll be right there, I just gotta get somethin’.”

“Well … hurry up.”