“I’myours.” He breathed placing a hand on my cheek, then pressing his forehead into my shoulder as I threaded my fingers through his hair.
The snow swirled around us, the market fading into the background as we stood there. And for the first time, I felt like I was exactly where I was supposed to be.
Then all of a sudden a little girl appeared out of nowhere, bundled in pink with a candy cane clutched in her mittened hand. She stopped in front of us, staring wide-eyed at Wynter.
“Excuse me,” she said, her voice small but serious. “Are you cursed like Anna fromFrozen?”
I froze, trying—and failing—not to burst into laughter. Wynter crouched slightly, his calm composure somehow intact.
“Cursed?” he repeated, a faint smirk on his lips.
“Yeah!” She pointed at the white streak in his dark hair. “Did someone hit you with ice powers?”
“No ice powers,” he said, his voice gentle. “Just how my hair is.”
The girl frowned. “Are you sure? It looks just like hers.”
Wynter leaned closer, lowering his voice. “Maybe I am cursed. But if I am, it’s a pretty cool one, don’t you think?”
Her eyes widened, and she nodded solemnly. “Super cool, do you have a sister?”
“I um.” Wynter hesitated glancing away.
“He has three.” I told her.
“Maybe you are from frozen.” The little girl hummed.
“Maybe, the cold never bothered him anyway.” I chuckled placing a hand on his shoulder.
With that, she skipped off into the crowd.
The car was quiet, The smell of warm mince pies lingered in the air, but I wasn’t thinking about food anymore. The windows were fogging up slightly, the snow outside cocooning us in a private, wintry world. I had my feet lifted onto the seat as Wynter sat beside me unwrapping the mince pies we’d brought to eat.
Wynter had just finished wiping a stray crumb from my mouth, his touch light but lingering. It was such a small thing, but it sent a little jolt through me. I leaned back, fiddling with the edge of my coat, trying to calm the nervous energy bubbling inside me.
I glanced at him. He was relaxed, one arm resting on the back of the seat, his dark eyes half-lidded as he watched me. I could feel the weight of his gaze, like he could see right through me, and it only made me more aware of what I wanted to ask.
“Wyn,” I said quietly, barely trusting my own voice.
“Hm?” His eyes didn’t waver, the corner of his mouth curving in that maddeningly confident way of his.
“Can I… ask you for a first favor, as my boyfriend?”
He tilted his head slightly, his smirk softening into something unreadable. “Without hesitation, what kind of favor?”
“It’s embarrassing.” I flushed, “I don’t want you to think I’m too much of a loser or anything.”
“I could never think that.” He reassured me.
I swallowed hard, my cheeks heating. “I want you to… kiss me. But, like… properly. You know, with tongue this time.”
That caught his attention. His smirk vanished, replaced by a look so intent it made my heart skip a beat. For a moment, he didn’t say anything, his eyes locked on mine as if he were weighing my words.
“Are sure?” he asked, his voice low and steady. “It’s never my intent to rush you.”
“It’s not rushing me if I’m asking you to put your foot on the gas.” I chuckled.
“Oh.”
