Let It Snow

by Cassie Cross

“You hate long black and white movies.” A full smile now. “But I love you.”

“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.

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.

“Ames, I messed up last night. I’ve wanted you for so long that when I finally had you, I got too wrapped up in it and forgot to say the things I should’ve said before I made love to you for the first time.”

“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.”

“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.

“What are you doing?” I ask as I grip his sweater to keep him near. He kisses me once, then twice. “Celebrating our first Christmas.”