Page 4 of Baby, It Snowed Outside

“Do mine too,” she hisses.

It feels just like the old times when she would bust Breck and I sneaking out and blackmail us into taking her with us, then forcing us to buy her frozen yogurt in exchange for her silence. She never did snitch, and we never got caught, but we sure ate a lot of frozen yogurt that summer before Breck got his license. It’s a wonder we never got busted driving around, none of us with a license. I smile. I think that’s the year I started crushing on her. Breck broke my nose when he punched me in the face at the batting cages the day he caught me showing her how not to swing and miss. Breck took a softball to the back in the scuffle and we didn’t speak to one another for a week. It was Aspen who begged us to stop acting like a bunch of stupid boys and makeup. She then proceeded to go into great detail about why girls are superior and boys are just nasty and dumb. I’m smiling so hard my face hurts.

“What are you thinking about?” Aspen asks, pulling me from my memories.

“That time you educated me on why girls are far superior when compared to boys.” I chuckle as I hand her back the phone and climb out to get my luggage. “I’ll be right back to help you.”

She cuts me off before I can finish, looking me dead in the eyes with the most intense soul searching gaze. “You mean when Breck broke your nose because you were helping me with my batting stance?” Her green eyes twinkle, whispering a secret just for me.

My cheeks heat and I look away, closing the door and stomping into the snow to retrieve my bags and unlock the front door. It’s nasty out here. I want to make sure Aspen doesn’t have to wait on me digging through the snow to get to the spare key my parents keep hidden on the porch.

When I open the back of the Jeep, I can see her texting her mom telling her she’s stuck at the airport and snowed in. I shake my head in disbelief. It’s impossible not to think about this. I can’t stop thinking about her. Opportunity is knocking and I’ll never get a chance like this again. It’s wrong, I know it’s wrong, but I’ve already tipped the pendulum into motion by driving the Jeep so far into the snow banks that I can’t easily get out. I’m already invested this far. Fuck it, I think, shrugging my shoulders.

My teeth chatter as I dig through the heavy, wet snow in the howling wind. I’m feeling pretty hopeless at this point, but without the key, I won’t be bringing Aspen inside for a Christmas Eve sleepover. A solid object brushes against my fingers as they sweep over the freezing cold metal. I drop to my knees, willing my frozen fingers to bend around the key. Clasping it, I work slowly and carefully to insert it into the lock, doing my best not to drop it back into the snowy peaks, waiting to swallow it all over again. The door creaks open to reveal an empty house. It never gets less jarring. This home is simply yet another piece of the fake perfect life they’ve crafted for us. I heave my heavy luggage onto the spotless marble floor, not giving a fuck if it cracks from the icy impact of the wheels. Snow falls onto the marble and disappears. The warm lights glow from the kitchen where the smart lights control them. I wonder what it would be like to take a house like this and fill it full of love, joy, laughter, and family. My eyes dart around the dark shadow filled rooms, as my imagination plays out a scene from my deepest darkest fantasies. Shaking my head and squeezing my eyes shut, I turn back to help Aspen inside.

My hands were thawing and now they are overcome with the most painful sensation of refreezing in the blizzard. The walk back to the Jeep feels just as treacherous as the walk to the front door. It takes me several minutes to reach the passenger door. I rap my knuckles against the window, which is frosted around the edges, framing Aspen. My breath catches for a minute as I imagine her as a photo. One of those holiday postcards with the snowflake borders. As I stare at her, my lips tug up into a half-grin.

Aspen opens the door, knocking me back into the snow. Her laughter fills the otherwise quiet night. Even though it’s cold, I’m laughing right along with her.

“You better watch out,” I tease. “I might accidentally drop you in a giant snowdrift on our way to the house.”

She punches me hard in the chest. “Fuck off, Zane. If you drop me in the snow, I will personally guarantee that Breck will kick your ass. I’ll make up a whopper. Don’t test me.”

That’s my fucking girl.

She cackles as I roll over in the snow, looking over my shoulder to bark at her. “For fuck’s sake, Aspen. Put your goddamn jacket on and shut off the engine. What are you waiting for, an invitation inside?”

She rolls her eyes, throws her arms into her jacket and zipping it. Then twists the key in the ignition, the sound of the motor ceases as she tosses them at me.

I reach for them frantically, knowing they will be unpleasant to find in the snowdrifts. Meanwhile Aspen giggles, proud of the chaos she is causing. I don’t fucking care, though. I will gladly entertain her and all the hellfire she brings just to hear that laugh every day.

“Come on.” I open my arms, inviting her in.

She hesitates but only for a second, before placing one foot then the next on the side step. I take advantage of the height differential, leaning my shoulder into her hip, knocking her over it. She screams as my arms wrap around her flailing body.

“Oops, I must have slipped,” I mutter, just loud enough for her to hear.

“Asshole.” She hisses

Laughing, I carry her up the sidewalk to the front door effortlessly.

“Let me down,” she huffs the moment we step inside.

Not wanting to push my luck, I set her down on the ground and whisper, “Payback’s a bitch. I guess we’re even.”

It earns me a smack in my arm, that I shrug off while flashing a shit-eating grin in her direction. She spins around, giving me the cold shoulder, flipping on lights as she walks into the house like she owns the place. You’d like for her to own it. You’d like it a lot, a raspy voice inside my head whispers. I ignore it, following Aspen until we both reach the den. Like clockwork, we each set to our typical tasks. I grab wood from the pile on the mantel. Stacking up the big pieces for the base and tucking smaller bits of wood and kindling in to build a solid base for a longer, hotter burn. My eyes skim the room, knowing exactly where they’re headed.

Across the room, Aspen thumbs through my mother’s record collection. She’s in the holiday section. I can already hear the one she’ll put on playing in my memories. Aspen loves the crooney voice of Bing Crosby. My hungry eyes gaze over her, devouring all her soft lines and curves. She’s fucking perfect. I look for longer than I should, allowing myself to imagine running my fingertips across her smooth skin, while my lips skirt across the sensitive spot between her neck and collarbone.

“Why are you looking at me like that, Zane?” She asks, yanking me out of my imagination and back to the present where I stand, no doubt staring at her the way a predator might stare at its prey.

She shifts uncomfortably, as my lips turn up into a smile, toying with her the same as a hungry wolf does. My voice is a level deeper when I open my mouth to answer. “I bet I can guess which record you’re going to pick before you even put it on.”

She rolls her eyes at me. “So? I like what I like. What does it matter if it’s—“ her voice hangs on a pause. “Predictable.” She finishes.

I swear to God there’s a hint of a subliminal message in the way she looks at me during the pause. As if her entire body is betraying her, and only her lips remain loyal enough to keep her secret desire for me from rolling out. There’s no fucking way. I must be imagining things. Why do you doubt what you see? The raspy voice from my head demands. Shut up. Stop. It’s not like that. I think, then turn off all my thoughts, mentally blocking everything out but Aspen.

“Are you going to be predictable?” I whisper, surprising myself with a response that doesn’t feel like my own, and yet the words flew out of my lips dripping with an unspoken invitation.

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