A packed snowball slammed into the side of my head and exploded, snow and ice raining all over my jacket and hat. I spun as Archer laughed, bending to grab another handful and launch it at me.
With a battle cry, I ran to the nearest snowbank and grabbed my own handful, taking a moment to pack it tight before launching it at him. He batted it away like the athlete he was, and I went back for another.
After that, we lost ourselves in a snowball battle, running down the street and into the town square, where a whole field of snow waited to be utilized. My entire face was burning, my gloves wet and my toes stiff by the time I held up my hands in surrender.
“No more!” I called. “My fingers will fall off.”
“Lightweight!” Archer called from a few yards away.
Using my teeth, I tugged off my gloves as I walked toward the gazebo, going up the steps at the backside of the tree. Once the gloves were off, I curled my hands around my mouth and blew into them, trying to get warm.
Archer jogged up behind me, and I leaned against one of the wooden pillars and gazed at the tree, trying to remember where my mom hung our family’s ornament.
“You can’t be that cold already.” He tormented me, his smile nearly as bright as the lights on the tree. Or maybe that was just how much he lit me up inside.
Don’t think like that.I reminded myself. He’s your best friend. Nothing else.
Keeping my eyes cast down, I blew into my hands again.
Archer’s boots filled my line of vision, and then his hands wrapped around mine. “They’re like ice,” he exclaimed.
“I told you,” I muttered, trying to calm my racing heart.
How was I supposed to think of him as just a friend when he made me feel so much more?
“Guess I know what I’m getting you for Christmas,” he said, rubbing his hands over mine. I stared at where he engulfed me, wondering when he’d taken off his gloves.
Taking in the feel of his skin against mine.
“Better gloves.”
His words startled me, and I looked up. “Wh-what?” I asked, the word forming as a white cloud between us.
He was standing so close.
“I’m getting you better gloves for Christmas,” he repeated.
“Oh,” I said, teeth beginning to chatter.
“Jeez, Tobes, listen to you,” he murmured and pulled my hands up and toward his mouth.
I stared, slack-jawed and wide-eyed, as he lowered to blow into our hands, warming my skin with not only his skin but his breath too.
Breath from his lungs.
Inside him.
On me now.
“I think that was our last snowball fight,” he said between breaths.
The hair on my head stood. I was shocked it didn’t blow right off.
“Wh-what?” I rasped, still enraptured by the sight of him cradling my hands and sharing his warm breath.
“You clearly can’t handle it. You’re too delicate.”
I jerked back, nearly yanking my hands free of his. “I am not.”
