Let It Snow

by Cassie Cross

“Thank you for thinking of me,” I tell him. He turns and looks at me, a soft smile on his face. “Always.”

I expect him to make fun of me, but instead I’m met with this look that kind of makes it seem like he thinks I hung the moon.

I’d even happily watch pigs fly as long as I got to do it sitting next to him.

He shrugs, seeming a little embarrassed. “Because you make it. Everything’s better when you’re involved.”

When I look over at him, all the air gets sucked out of my lungs. His eyes are soft but intense, the room charged with this energy that sets my nerves on fire.

But the words are important; I need to see them, I need to hear them.

“When did you realize?” He shrugs. “That day in Mrs. Garber’s class when I fell off the swings and you brushed the rocks out of my skinned hands and kissed my tears away.” I let out a shocked laugh. “We were six!” He laughs back. “I’ve been waiting for you for a long time.”

think this is going to wind up being one of my favorite things about no longer loving him in silence: kissing him whenever I want.

“It’s our place,” he says. “Whether you live there or not. You always have a home with me, Ames.”

Inside is a delicate glass heart ornament, with the same picture inside that I’ve just given to him. In swooping script along the edge of the heart is: Our First Christmas.