This Winter

by Alice Oseman

Christmas is okay at our house. It’s chilled. Quiet. Dad calls it a Spring Christmas, which he thinks is hilarious.

The sheer ridiculousness of Nick owning a handkerchief immediately makes me snort out a laugh, which makes him smile too and raise his eyebrows. I do stop crying as he methodically wipes my cheeks. “Why do you have a handkerchief ?” I ask. Nick breaks out into a grin, still gently brushing the thing against my face. “Owning a handkerchief is cool now.” “Oh. I haven’t been keeping up with current trends.” Nick laughs. It’s so lovely against the sound of the rain and the low bass of whatever music they’re playing in the living room.

I look up at him. I love him. God, I love my boyfriend.