“Yeah. Now will you come share your jacket again? I’m cold.”
He stood there for half a second, his brain a melted lump of candle wax. But he couldn’t have denied her anything, so he wrapped her up again, then buried his face against her neck when she nestled into him. The clean tang of her sweat rushed in, a rising brightness inside his head.
She liked him. Aubrey MacLeanlikedhim. Even though he’d shoved enough letters into her locker to decimate a small forest. Or... he dared imagine... maybebecauseof that.
She pressed herself even closer.
“My god,” he groaned in her ear. “A cheerleader who likes math and safety and lives in a mansion and can touch her ankle to her ear and smells like fuckingparadise. I don’t even know what I’m doing here.”
He was drunk on her, clearly. Or maybe still dreaming, because when she made a hungry sound, he cupped her jaw and nipped at her bottom lip. He didn’t know if he’d thought of that himself or seen it in a movie somewhere, but the way she shivered in response made him marvel.
“I have a favor to ask,” she said, breathy. “I have to go back inside soon, but—”
“You want my jacket?” he murmured against her lips.
“No. I want you to sit next to me. In English. Tomorrow.”
He pulled back. Her eyes were wide and intensely green, a breadth of springtime on this frigid night.
“And talk to me in the hall,” she continued.
“You mean... in front of people?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s two favors,” he said, for lack of anything else.
A shy smile slid across her mouth. “Yeah. Actually, can we make it three?”
He dared to settle his fingers against the pulse in her neck. It felt like touching something holy, and he already knew he would do whatever she asked. He’d go find a fucking dragon to slay, if she wanted. “What?”
“Don’t stop writing to me.”
A searing hope lit his chest.
She reached up to brush his hair from his eyes. “And maybe kiss me again, if you don’t mind. That was... incredible, and I’d really like to do it some more.”
“That’s four favors.” He limited himself to three words, because if he didn’t, too many would emerge. A cyclone would pour out. He’d never stop.
“So is that a yes, then? Or... four yeses?”
“Yes,” he said. “Yes, yes, yes. Anything.”
She leaned up and kissed him, or maybe he kissed her. He didn’t know, only that she tasted even better, felt even headier against him, the second time. She finally broke away and left him leaning against the frosty wall, panting.
“I have to go, but... see you tomorrow, Nick?”
“Yeah.” He didn’t recognize his own voice. “See you tomorrow, Aubs.”
He couldn’t have said where the nickname came from, but her eyes crinkled in pleasure, so he committed it to memory as she melted into the darkness.
He stood there for a few thousand years, trying to get his brain to work again, but it refused, so he eventually gave up and went home.
Only when he was halfway asleep did he finally realize the dream still hadn’t ended.
13.
Dear Aubrey,
