Page 30 of Off the Beaten Path

“This looks like a good spot,” I tell June as we stop a few feet from the road, right where everyone will be able to see our snowman as they pass and just far enough to be out of the glow of Wren’s Christmas lights, which she still hasn’t taken down, even though January is almost over.

“I think so too,” June huffs, her breath fogging the cold air. She’s got her hands on her hips, staring at the spot like a suburban dad surveying his lawn, and I have to hold back a smile.

June looks up at me, her blue eyes squinted against the bright sun. I probably should have put sunglasses on her. “What now?”

“We start with a snowball.”

June chatters as we work on the snowman. Our hands grow wet and cold despite our gloves, but she looks like she’s having too much fun for me to contemplate going inside. She decides she wants our snowman to look like a particular one from a princess movie, so we set to work making it lopsided and smiling with one very prominent front tooth.

When our snowman is almost finished, Wren’s yellow VW Beetle comes sloshing down the freshly plowed street, and as she turns into her driveway, I get an idea. Turning to June, I say, “Let’s get Wren with some snowballs.”

Her eyes light up, bright as the winter sunshine in the sky. “Let’s do it.”

We trudge across the yard as quickly as possible, trying to get to Wren before she climbs out of her car. We make it just in time to form one snowball each. Wren’s door cranks open, loud in the stillness, and when she sticks her leg out, it’s covered in sheer black tights that end in black Chelsea boots. When she stands, her black dress falls to mid-thigh, and for a moment, I just stare at her, forgetting what I’m supposed to be doing.

That is, until June’s snowball hits Wren right in the chest.

Aballoffluffywhite snow explodes against my chest before I have a chance to react. The sound of the snowball smacking against me is quickly followed by a girlish giggle. I look up to see June with her little gloved hand pressed to her cold-kissed face, barely hiding the line of freckles that stand out prominently against her red cheeks.

My eyes land on Holden behind her, snowball in his hand, although his arm isn’t raised. It’s hanging by his side. His gaze is fastened on me, and there’s a look I can’t quite read on his face, which looks cold under the thick beard, but not nearly as chapped as June’s.

“Don’t you dare,” I say, pointing at Holden, already feeling the chill from June’s snowball seeping through the layers of my black velvet dress not covered by my unbuttoned trench coat.

Holden looks down at the snowball, seeming to remember it in his hand, then lobs it in my direction. I squeal, barely making it out of the way before June hurls another one right at me. This one lands, splattering across my neck and seeping down into my neckline.

I tug the dress away from my skin, hoping the snow will fall back out to the ground, but no such luck. It bleeds into my bra, chilling me to the core.

June is still laughing, trying to form another snowball, but Holden lifts her up, throwing her over his shoulder. “Okay, okay, that’s enough, June Bug. Let’s get some hot chocolate.”

Amber eyes meet mine once more, and despite the snow and cold, something warms inside me, spreading into the tips of my fingers and the space behind my belly button.

“Want to join us?”

I’m momentarily stunned by the offer, caught up in the way the light refracts in his hair, illuminating the faintest hint of gray at the temples, the lines at his eyes that suggest that although he saves his smiles now, he used to give them freely. Holden Blankenship is an enigma, and I really want to figure him out.

“Hot chocolate sounds good.”

We trudge through the snow to Holden and June’s house. It’s different from mine. It’s larger, for starters, and while my siding is painted a bright white, theirs is dark gray with white trim and shutters.

Holden sets June down on the top step of the porch, and she spins around, scurrying inside. When he doesn’t follow her, I stay back too, as fat snowflakes drift lazily from the sky and land on my exposed skin.

Despite the snow, the morning sunshine is bright, bathing Holden in rich golden hues that make his tan skin look tanner, while the cold only makes my pale, freckled skin look redder. His hair is tousled and damp, like he and June were playing out here for a while, crafting the snowman next to his mailbox. He looks…good, I don’t fail to notice. I mean, he always looks good, but especially now, windblown and mussed, looking like he hasn’t even had a chance to brush his hair since he woke up, which I’m only now noticing is down, growing slightly wavy in the chilly dampness, although nothing like June’s untamable curls.

“You look nice,” Holden says, startling me out of my thoughts, and my whole body feels like it’s been pulsed by an electric shock at the comment, at knowing he was examining me and thinking the same thoughts I was having about him.

I’m wearing the same dress as last night, wrinkled from passing out on Stevie’s tiny couch after one too many glasses of strawberry wine,Gilmore Girlsplaying on her TV mounted to the wall. I looked at myself in the mirror this morning, red curls frizzy and falling out of the messy bun I managed to tie them in last night, my eyes still sporting smudged brown mascara. I decidedly didnotlook good, but that doesn’t stop me from feeling his compliment down to my toes and in the tips of my ears and every place in between.

“Thanks,” I breathe, my breath fogging in the air between us.

Holden palms the back of his neck, his boot tapping lightly on the top step. “So,” he says, the word dragging out.

I can feel my brows furrowing with the statement.

“Out all night, huh?” he finally asks, and I notice the streak of red across his cheekbones that, despite the cold, wasn’t there before.

I want to see if I can make it spread. If it will disappear into the layers of his jacket and the flannel I expect is beneath.

“Mm-hmm,” I say, and let the sound hang. “Same clothes too. Guess you caught me doing a walk of shame. It’s a good thing June doesn’t know what that means.”

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