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  Larissa gives me a pointed look and pipes in. “I don’t think you ever enjoy yourself at parties, let’s be honest, Nicole. It’s ok if partying isn’t your thing, really, we just worry about you, that’s all. We love you so much and we just want to share you with the world so that everyone on campus knows how amazing you are!” She gives me a one-armed hug and squeezes.

  I know she means it, I do. I just can’t understand why. I don’t know what her and Stephanie see in me, let alone what they think other people are going to see in me.

  I’m glad they don’t push me, though. It’s a relief to get back to the room. I actually have fun watching them get ready to go out, knowing that it’s only a matter of time before I get the place all to myself!

  When they finally leave, I flop on my bed, completely exhausted. As much as I adore my roommates, I have a very limited capacity for peopling, and I’m totally at my limits today.

  I lay quietly in bed for a few minutes before I have the ambition to lift myself up again to make the tea I’ve been dreaming of.

  I know to most University students, the idea of spending a Friday night in bed, with my laptop and a term paper, sounds like pretty much the worst punishment one could come up with. But to me, especially today, I’m right in my happy zone.

  For hours I write like I have a muse sitting on my shoulder.

  When I look at the clock and realize it’s 10 already, I’m more than a little shocked. This time it’s my body, more than my mind, that needs a break. My shoulders are tight, and my butt is aching, even though my bed is by far the softest seat I’ve had all day.

  I decide what I need now is a lovely, before-bed yoga session to wind down.

  I “discovered” yoga when I was about 12. I’ve always had issues with my weight, and I used to sneak down to the basement when my parents weren’t home to do my mom’s aerobics videos. They were old even then, but something about Jane Fonda saying things like “namby-pamby” made me step up my effort. But I never got thin.

  And then one day I found a tattered old hard cover copy of a yoga book. The woman inside looked so graceful, I wanted to be just like her.

  From that day on, I would spend nearly hour and a half every day going through the routine.

  I still didn’t lose weight, but I could at least measure my progress as my poses got more advanced. As my body became more flexible. As I started to feel more graceful, even if I was still heavy.

  I began taking yoga classes as soon as I saved up enough allowance to buy a monthly membership. I noticed that I was able to hold the poses longer than most of the other women in class, and I could sink deeper into the stretches.

  I could feel their eyes on me, judging me. But this was the one place in the world that I felt like I measured up when it came to something physical.

  I may not have the body of the yogis on the posters, but I can nail the Dancer’s Pose!

  Steph and Larissa are constantly asking me to teach them, but I love the peacefulness of just going totally zen all by myself.

  I can feel the stress of the day melting out of my body as I stretch, and I’m so glad that I decided to stay home. Tonight has turned out to be quite nice, after all.

  By the time I’m finished my routine it’s after midnight and I’m more than ready to head to bed. The girls probably won’t be home for another few hours, so I should be deep in slumberland and dead to the world when they get in.

  I put on my comfiest pair of PJs, the ones with the little unicorns that the girls love to tease me about, and I crawl into bed.

  CHAPTER 2

  Drake

  Logan and I stuff our bags into our lockers as we settle into the firehouse for our 24-hour shift. I can hear the other guys in the TV room and banging pots in the kitchen – life as per usual here.

  We all get along fairly well, but Logan and I were in the same training program together and have become more like brothers than anything else.

  We usually carpool into the station together and I was in the middle of telling him about the latest in a series of horrendous dates when we pulled in.

  “She was kind of a freak,” I say, continuing my story, “and not in a good way.”

  I honestly don’t understand what has happened to women. I was raised to be respectful and expect a woman to respect herself.

  The MeToo movement has me baffled as I can’t imagine treating any woman the way it seems most men are used to treating them. My mother would cuff me upside the head for even associating with men who would talk about treating a woman with anything less that complete reverence.

  It’s disgusting to me when I hear what goes on in the world.

  But I have to admit, I find it hard to respect any person who obviously has no respect for themselves.

  “She was late showing up, right off the bat, and I could smell the wine on her breath already. Before we sat down at the restaurant she asked if I wanted to make a quick detour to her dealer’s to pick up some heroin before dinner. Heroin? Are you serious?”

  Logan snorted in disgust, shaking his head.

  “She was disappointed when I said we should just get our table before they gave away our reservation, but she perked up as she started showing me pictures of the latest festival she went to…complete with graphic images of her getting fisted. How’s that for first date dinner conversation?”

  I’m not exactly a prude, but I definitely have some standards. I think there are plenty of ways to express your creativity and sexuality without doing it in front of the whole world.

  “If that’s her thing,” Logan says with a chuckle, “Then you’ve gotta respect her right to go and be a free little sex kitten.”

  “She’s welcome to do whatever she would like with her body, but I’m not going to be the boyfriend who waits at home for her.”

  I know Logan understands. Actually, most of the guys around here are stand up men. There’s only a few of us who are single, and we’re starting to wonder if all the normal women are already married.

  All of my dates lately have been with women who act like they want nothing more than to be dancing on bars and taking a different man home with them every night.

  There’s nothing wrong with that, but it’s not what I’m looking for.

  I’d like to meet someone I can actually have a conversation with, and the possibility of having that conversation turn to marriage some day in the future.

  Logan wants the same thing, but he’s been so disturbed by my horror stories that he’s just given up dating entirely.

  “This is why I’m going to be single until I’m 40,” he says, “I’ll find a nice 30-something year old who already has the party danced out of her and is hearing her biological clock ticking loud and clear.”

  “Single is one thing, dude,” I say, giving him a very strong look, “But celibate is another. I don’t think I want to wait till I’m 40 to have sex with a real person again, thank you very much.”

  He laughs. “That’s a good point, man,” he agrees. “You keep doing the dating craziness. When you find a great girl, make sure she has a sister or a best friend who shares her class, alright?”

  That’s Logan for you, making me do all the hard work. “Lazy ass,” I give him a good punch on the arm. “Come on then, let’s hit the gym.”

  If you’ve ever run up 12 flights of stairs with a water hose over one shoulder, you’ll understand exactly why it’s important to keep in good shape if you’re part of the fire department.

  The firehouse is set up pretty well, and we’ve got access to a state-of-the-art gym whenever we’re on shift. There’s also a kitchen the size of my entire apartment and a pretty good TV or theatre room.

  Most of the men here like to break up their shifts and use the gym halfway through. Which is why Logan and I hit it up as soon as we arrive, before it gets crazy. This way, if there’s no emergency in the middle of the night, we can still keep a fairly normal sleep schedule even while we�
�re on duty.

  If there is an emergency, we’re nice and full of testosterone and adrenaline from our workout.

  It can be tough being a firefighter – mentally, not just physically. There are few things as devastating and terrifying as a fire, and I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy. But there are days when you’re sitting around the firehouse hoping for some action and knowing that there’s probably a special place in hell for men who look forward to fires.

  Today isn’t one of those days, though. I’d be quite happy getting a good night’s sleep and recovering from the crazy that was my date yesterday.

  Of course, the universe is against me.

  Just after 1:30 am the bell rings and I’m out of bed and down the pole in less than 30 seconds, piling gear onto my back and getting into the truck.

  As the crew blares out of the firehouse I can hear the dispatch telling us to head to the University. The dorms are on fire. Shit.

  This is one of the worst-case scenarios that they prepare us for during our training. There are so many bodies on university. And on a night like tonight the majority of them are going to be drunk.

  Young, drunk and scared is not a good combination. In fires like this more people get hurt because of panic than because of the fire itself.

  As we get closer, I can see the smoke billowing into the night sky and my heart starts to race.

  I look over at Logan and his face is grim, mouth tightened into a thin line of suppressed anxiety.

  We can see the flames now. This is a big fire, but so far it looks contained to one building. I take a deep breath.

  Tonight is going to be tough.

  CHAPTER 3

  Logan

  We all pile out of the truck and listen for our orders from the Captain.

  Drake and I along with another two of the men are to go into the building to see if anyone’s trapped inside. My heart is pounding hard, but I’m strangely calm.

  If you can’t remain calm amid the world’s biggest stressors, you’re not likely to pass the first of the training camps to become a firefighter.

  We into burning buildings. It takes a certain kind of person to be willing to do that, let alone able.

  It’s not something I feel I have the right to brag about, but it is something I’m eternally grateful I can offer to the world.

  I was never a great student, and even though I was offered football scholarships, I always felt I had a responsibility to do something more important than throw a ball around.

  The summer I graduated from high school the wildfires in California were so out of control that they were begging for any able-bodied person from anywhere in the country to come and help.

  I could dig a ditch, so I went. The work was hard. Back-breaking hard.

  I’ll always remember this one location at the base of a mountain. I was part of a team digging a ditch so that the fire would stop before it overwhelmed the resort and homes at the bottom. There was a river not too far away and anyone with a boat was helping to evacuate everyone who was left and trapped on the wrong side of the road.

  It was an incredible sight. People helping people.

  But what will always stick with me is the wildlife. Coyotes, deer, rabbits and every other creature that made its home in those woods were pouring out of the forest together, heading for the river.

  There was no thought of hunting on anyone’s mind, least of all the predators. Everyone and everything just wanted to survive.

  That’s when I decided I would dedicate my life to protecting people and animals from fires in any way I could.

  I’m good at it and I save lives. Even if it’s just some little girl’s goldfish and I’ve never saved a person before, I’m still making a difference in the world.

  I hope I don’t have to save any lives tonight, but I’m ready to do whatever it takes. We quickly learn that a party was going on somewhere else and most of the students were attending it, which is a blessing. The energy in the area is electric, but it’s not full of panic like it would be if people had been partying inside.

  That doesn’t mean the building’s empty though, and Drake and I attach our oxygen masks and head inside from the back entrance while the other two go through the front.

  It gets hotter as we go up. A fire like this could take hours to suppress and it looks like it started on the top floor, so that’s where we start our search.

  We work carefully, going door by door.

  Getting to the end of the first hallway I see a shape on the floor, a shape that looks like a body.

  I yell for Drake and run over to check. It’s a young woman. She had tried to get to the exit and didn’t make it. She had more sense than most people do though, because she at least had a towel over her face. It looks damp.

  She’s still breathing and that towel probably saved her life.

  I strap a spare mask over her face and lift her.

  We need to check the rest of the floor fast and get her out of here. We can’t risk leaving anyone else up here though, so we start kicking down doors and yelling.

  We get to the end of the hallway and haven’t seen anyone, so we run back to the exit and out of the building.

  We burst outside and Drake debriefs while I rush the girl to the waiting ambulance. Two more men from the crew are signaled to head back inside and take over for us, searching for anyone else who might not have made it out in time.

  Drake and I hover as the paramedics take over, giving her oxygen and wetting her face, washing the soot off.

  After a minute, her eyes flutter open and she looks around, obviously confused.

  She’s beautiful, I realize. And has one of those faces that makes you believe there is still good left in the world.

  She could have died in that fire, I think to myself. She could have died all by herself, alone.

  Her eyes close again, and the paramedics assure me she’ll be fine. She’s got smoke in her lungs, but it’s not too bad. She just needs to sleep and rehydrate.

  Drake and I back away, letting them close the doors and rush her off to the hospital.

  There’s no time to dwell on the girl, not when the fire is still raging. Drake and I report back to our Captain and spend the next 4 hours helping to put out the blaze.

  When we finally make it back to the station, it’s almost surreal.

  I haven’t been able to get the image of that girl’s eyes out of my mind since she left in the ambulance. But it feels like another life that I pulled her out of the dorm corridor. So much has happened since then.

  When Drake and I walk through the door, the place erupted in cheers.

  Despite what many people think, the majority of calls that are answered by firefighters are actually for medical assistance. The next most common call is a false alarm.

  It’s not every day that one of our team pulls someone out of a burning building, and it’s an occasion worth celebrating.

  It’s just never been me on the receiving end of the cheers before, even though I’ve been with the department for more than five years now. My face gets hot with embarrassment and I try to shrug off the congratulations.

  This is what we’re trained for. I know exactly what the others are feeling right now – pride that one of their own saved a life. I’ve felt it myself when someone else on the team showed an extraordinary level of bravery and courage.

  I’m not comfortable with the praise myself though, as it feels misplaced now that it’s directed at me.

  Drake and I hit the showers to avoid the frenzy.

  As I wash away the smoke and grit, my mind keeps going back to the image of her eyes, slowly blinking awake. Those gorgeous eyes.

  “I wonder if she’s ok,” I say out loud.

  Drake’s mind has taken him down the same road, because he answers instantly. “They said she’d be fine.”

  We both shower in silence for a few minutes.

  “We could check on her tomorrow.�
�� It was phrased like a question, but it came out more like a statement, and I was instantly grateful beyond words.

  “We should,” I agree. “Just to be sure.”

  We look at each other knowingly. It was our first rescue. I don’t know if Drake was as captivated by her as I was, but I could easily convince myself that I would feel just as connected to anyone else.

  Feeling much better knowing that I was going to see her again in the morning, I towel off and the two of us return to the raucous excitement of the firehouse kitchen for some dinner.

  CHAPTER 4

  Nicole

  I wake up to a strange beeping sound. It’s not my alarm – tomorrow’s Saturday. As I open my eyes, I realize there’s a fire – my building’s on fire!

  I run to the door. The handle’s warm, but not hot. I yank the door open and immediately start coughing in the smoke that surrounds me.

  I slam the door shut again.

  I start to panic, turning around and searching for another way out.

  I move towards the window, already knowing it’s hopeless. I’m on the top floor. The drop would kill me just as surely as the fire will. But wouldn’t it be worse to be burned alive?

  My world is hazy, dream like. I can see little ant-sized people running from the building and pouring out onto the huge expansive field I don’t remember having outside my dorm.

  I can see a man. He stands bravely, holding steady against the ants trying to escape from the fire. He’s a god and he starts moving towards my building.

  I know – I’m not sure how I know, but I know that he’s coming for me. He’s coming to save me.

  I have to try to get to him, I think. My life depends on it. I grab one of my hand towels out of my drawer and empty a water bottle over it.

  I put it over my face and run for the door again.

  The smoke overwhelms me. I’m sure I can make it to the exit, but I can’t remember moving. All of a sudden, he’s looming over me, and I’m safe. There’s no more heat, no more fire.