So far, Ava was sitting next to me.
Suddenly, the lights flickered a few times. As we stared around the house, waiting to see what would happen, the TV went fuzzy.
“Lost the cable,” I said.
We both raced to the closest window, pulling up the shade to check outside.
“Holy shit,” she cried. “How much is that already?”
Checking for something in the backyard to gauge the amount of snow we’d gotten, I could only use the door of the opposing townhouse.
“I’d say over eight inches already.”
The sky glowed bright orange from the moon trying to fight through the snow-filled clouds. In the distance, there was a flash of light that grabbed our attention.
“Was that what I think it was?” Ava asked.
“Lightning, looks like we’re in for some thunder snow,” I told her.
Her head jerked toward me at my words, disbelief all over her face. She reached out, her hand on my shoulder, turning me to face her.
“Thunder snow? What the hell are you talking about?”
I was speechless as her hand remained on my arm. I wanted to pull her close, wrap my arms around her tiny waist, and bring her mouth to mine.
But the fear of Tink making an appearance, of Ava truly hating me, and completely misreading the little clues I thought I picked up on this past week paralyzed me.
Instead, I went back to examining the impending storm.
“Yeah, you’ve never heard of thunder snow? It doesn’t happen often, but it happens. Could mean we might have a power outage.” I started pulling away from the window. “Maybe I should look for some candles, just in case.”
Ava held me in place, her brilliant green eyes gazing at me through long dark lashes.
“We can do that in a minute,” she said, her voice a bit husky. “Let’s keep watching the snow. It’s pretty, isn’t it?”
She leaned against the windowsill, her chin in her hands, as her breath left a cloud on the glass.
“It is,” I said, but only looked at her.
The temptation to touch her was unrelenting, and my hands trembled at my sides. My thoughts were consumed with everything about her: the slope of her neck as her head tilted up to look at the snow; the way wisps of her dark hair fell across her forehead; the tiny freckles across the bridge of her nose; thesparkle of her nose ring; the hole above her eyebrow where a brow ring once was; the pink of her full lips as she licked them.
“I can feel you staring at me,” she said.
“Sorry, Ava.”
She suddenly turned toward me and smiled, and I couldn’t help but smile back.
“I like when you use my name,” she said, “and not that awful nickname.” Her smile faltered somewhat as her gaze returned to the falling snow.
I knewTinkbothered her, and I guess at a point that was the intention.
“I like the nickname I have for you.”
Her head slowly swiveled, her cheek laying on her arms folded on the sill. We had resorted to kneeling on the floor below the window for comfort.
“Really?” she asked, the sarcasm thick.
“One of the things I like most about you, and at the same time pisses me off, is your sassy attitude. I don’t think you’d be you without it, Ava. You shouldn’t change for anyone.”
