“Yeah, like that!” she calls when it hits him in the chest, only to highfive her boyfriend.
It takes all of two seconds for a snowball war to be declared between the four of us, everyone building their stock of ammo and launching an attack. We dodge and deflect the best we can, but an errant snowball hits a group of guys behind us on accident, and they wind up joining in on the action.
After about ten minutes of the same cycle repeating itself, we’re in battle against almost thirty people. All total strangers who just want to be a kid for a little while, and in a city like this, I think there’s something really cool about that.
At some point, Quinton and Oakley find us in the chaos, and we create an alliance of four against the plethora of strangers pelting snow in every which direction. And when I glance over at Logan, I find the biggest smile on his face. The same one I saw on the ice skating rink yesterday.
He catches me staring a couple seconds later, and somehow, his grin only grows.
“So much for building Lo—oof.”
Out of nowhere, Oakley tackles Logan to the ground, lying half on top of him. His extra height and weight makes it easy for him to pin Logan to his stomach and push his head down into the fluffy pile of snow.
“We’re on the same team, Oakley!” he shouts at his brother, thrashing beneath him as he tries to escape.
“Yeah, but I’ve always wanted to give you a facewash,” Oakley says with a laugh.
I rush to Logan’s aid on instinct—hoping to maybe help him get a little payback—but Oakley sees me coming and is off his brother before I can reach them. Doesn’t stop me from pegging him in the shoulder with a snowball for good measure, though.
“Your payback is going to be brutal, I hope you know that!” Logan calls after him.
I drop to kneel at his side, checking him over. I don’t spot any physical injuries at a first glance, but I ask anyway, just to be sure.
“You okay?”
“Yeah, I’m good.” He laughs, wiping at his eyes with his sleeve. “Just wasn’t expecting it.”
I clear off the bits of snow still clinging to his cheeks, smiling. “Marcus used to do that shit to me all the time when we were little. I was constantly watching my back.”
“Younger sibling rite of passage, I guess. Even at twenty.”
I pull him to his feet and help dust off more of the snow clinging to his beanie and jacket, only to be hit in the back with a snowball or five.
“Look at what you started,” I muse with a laugh. “One rogue snowball and you caused an all out war.”
“Me?You’re the one who fired the first shot!”
I wrap my hand around the back of his neck, and cock my head to the side. “Well, don’t insult my snow packingcapabilities, and I wouldn’t have to retaliate.”
The sweet sound of his laughter greets my ears, and I can’t help but smile down at him, taking in his joy. It’s almost childlike: no weight or responsibility or expectation weighing everything down.
It’s freedom.
“Thank you,” he murmurs after a moment.
“For what?”
“For coming to New York with me. For making this week bearable. For standing up to my dad. Forthis,” he says, motioning at the chaos ensuing around us. “I haven’t had this much fun in a while. So, thank you.”
My thumb skims over the apple of his cheek, where it’s rosy from the cold. And though I might be imagining it, I swear I feel him lean into my touch, ever so slightly.
“You don’t have to thank me. You deserve to just be Logan sometimes, instead of always having to be a Reed.”
His gaze softens as he continues to look at me, only to shake his head. “God, you’re nothing like I expected.”
He looks away after the words leave his lips, but I use my hold on him to guide his attention back to me. There’s still the smallest bit of apprehension in his expression, but I think it has more to do with the admission itself than the truth behind it. At least, that’s what I’m hoping, because I’ve been thinking the same thing as of late.
He’s nothing like what I thought he’d be. Yes, he’s guarded, but not without reason.
