Page 5 of Wishing on Snowflakes

“Bullshit,” I tell him.

“Seriously. She’s a ten,” he points out.

I look back at the girl of my dreams just in time to see her slide slightly off the stool and quickly scooch herself back on again.

“Okay, maybe a nine,” Adam corrects himself, probably docking her a point for her seemingly perpetual clumsiness as he takes another pull of his beer.

“No, she’s a ten.” I nod, staring unabashedly now. “But that doesn’t mean she’s out of my league.”

I know what Adam’s trying to get at here. Because my friends and I—Adam included—geek out toStar Warsand superhero movies, most people classify us as nerds. The black-framed glasses I usually wear don’t help the stereotype. But I’m a confident guy, and I like to believe there’s more to me beneath the surface, just like I’m sure there’s more to this girl—who’s clearly having a rough night—than stunning good looks.

Sure, she’s got the grace of a bull in a china shop, but I’m fascinated by how she doesn’t even blink at her own antics. She’s got the wholethis is me; take it or leave itvibe, and it works.

I finish off what’s left in my pint glass and set it down on the polished wood table with a thunk.

“I’m going to talk to her,” I announce, rising from my chair.

* * *

Gwen

“Iliiike you,” I say, my voice muffled against my drinking buddy’s shoulder.

“Well, I should hope so,” she scoffs into her martini. “I’m your grandmother.”

Not true. Dolores has dementia and thinks I’m her granddaughter. At least Ithinkthat’s right… my memory’s a bit fuzzy right now. No matter the case, I’ve always just gone with it. She’s too damn loveable not to, and at some point, I think we adopted each other.

“Wasth smacking him with histh snowboard enough?” I slur. “Maybe I should key his car. Oh wait! The loosther doesn’t have one,” I remember, pointing a finger in the air.

“Don’t waste your time, pumpkin.” Dolores raises her free hand to pat my cheek. “From what you’ve told me, he wasn’t a good lay anyway. You’re better off.” She pounds the rest of her drink and sets it on the bar in front of her.

“True,” I admit somberly.

“I mean, you were faking orgasms left and right,” she yammers on as she signals to Shawn for another. “And that thing with the hockey mask?Ugh.” She shudders.

“Okay, we’re definitely not talking about me here anymore.”

“My point is, that needle dick isn’t worth it, poops. Allow yourself one night of debauchery and then don’t give him any more of your emotional energy. Trust me, I’ve gone the whole slash his tires route, but the gratification doesn’t last long, and then the cops are knocking on your door…”

“Dolores!” A hulking man wearing a navy-blue parka with a familiar logo on it grumbles as he bellies up beside us.

“Dammit. Busted again.” Dolores snaps her fingers as the man gives a small smile and lets out a sigh.

“Let’s get you back to Shady Meadows,” he says gently, helping her down off her stool. “We have to do something about this sneaking out.”

“Not my fault the security guards sleep instead of watching the door,” she fires back but takes the hand the man offers her and stands. “Cheer up, pumpkin,” she says, giving me a side hug. “We’ll splurge at Bloomingdales tomorrow.”

We won’t, because this is Tahoe, not New York, but I love her for the thought anyway.

“Thanks gram-ma-ma.” The words drunkenly slither out, and I push myself to lean forward on the bar since my prop just left.

I order my fourth (I think) drink of the hour, and when Shawn turns his back to mix it, I grab one of those little plastic sword things and stab a free cherry. Only it takes me about six tries, but I get it! Except then the whole container is toppling over, and cherries are rolling everywhere.Weee…

Shawn looks down at the floor and then back up at me, and I quickly look away.

Wasn’t me. Someone’s throwing shit…

As the poor guy (don’t worry, I’ll give him a good tip) is squatting down, cleaning up my mess, I take the moment to stealthily pop my hard-earned cherry into my mouth.

---