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We’re already pulling each other’s clothes off as we clamber to the backseat.
Checking something off a to-do list never felt so fucking good.
33
OLIVIA
“Snow day!”
Summer’s excited squeal wakes me before my alarm has the chance. I sit up in bed, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. Then, my mind absorbs what I just heard.
Snow day.
I throw off my blankets and hurry to my window. I look down on our street coated in fluffy white, with thick clumps of snow still tumbling languidly from the cloudy sky.
My breath catches at how beautiful it is. The snow’s already piled up so high that it’s just a flat, rolling plane of white, eliminating the distinction between the road and the sidewalks. The skeletal frames of the trees are fringed with pristine white snow. The streetlights are still on, throwing off a soft, golden-amber hue that only makes the scene even more picturesque.
Weather forecasts were predicting maybe an inch or two of snow, but for once it looks like they actually underestimated.
My door flies open, and Summer bounds into my room. “Snow day!” she exclaims again, girlish excitement animating her. “They just sent out the alert!”
Excitement tugs at my chest. I love the snow, and when the day comes that I don’t feel a little childish giddiness at a snow day, then I’ll know I’ve really been worn down too much by life.
In the living room, Summer and I make some tea and pull back the curtains of the big living room window, gazing out as the flat level of the snow mounts higher and higher.
We chat, letting the hot tea suffuse us with warmth, mesmerized by the beauty outside our window and feeling the simmering excitement of what we’re going to do with today.
Obviously, a snowman is called for at some point.
Once the tea’s finished and the streetlights have been switched off, our stomachs start to growl. We decide to bundle up and see which stores in Cedar Shade are open.
I pull on my boots, zip up my jacket, tug on my pink beanie, and wrap a scarf around my neck. Summer and I take a moment in front of the mirror before we step outside, admiring our cute winter outfits.
The weather is great. No wind. No sharp bite to the air. Just a mellow chill that’s perfect for walking around bundled up.
Flakes continue to fall from the fat, heavy clouds above us as we trudge through the snow, lifting our knees high with each step and leaving a pair of tracks in our wake.
Lots of other students are out, too. There’s a buzzing, jubilant feeling in the air. A group of guys are horsing around, throwing and slamming each other into big piles of snow, excitedly shouting “Snow day!” at everyone passing them by, and getting shouts and cheers back in response.
A little bit further up the street, some girls are making snowmen, and on the other side of the road, people are riding sleds down the slope of a hill. Through the still, snowy air, the sound of a gaggle of young children squealing and giggling carries from a distance.
The convenience store a couple blocks from our place ends up being open. We buy pancake mix and maple syrup, and two big cups of coffee to sip on to keep warm as we walk back home. After stuffing ourselves on pancakes, we decide to go walk around campus.
Campus is almost as busy as it is during a school day, with people making snow angels, drawing in the snow, building snowmen, or just strolling around with coffees in their hands.
I yelp as I feel something soft smash into the back of my beanie.
Turning around with my brow lowered, I see Tuck in the distance, his face beaming with a roguish grin. “Ten points!” he yells.
My heart bounds against my chest at the sight of him. He’s wearing a pair of jeans tucked into loosely-laced boots that give him a rugged look. He’s got a hood pulled up from underneath his jacket, his thick, tussled hair spilling out of it as he jogs towards us.
Summer is a blur in my peripheral vision as she rushes past me to Hudson, who’s right behind Tuck. A couple paces behind both of them are Rhys and a girl I don’t recognize. She’s really cute, with beautiful black hair spilling from an olive-green knitted hat and dark-rimmed eyeglasses.
I gather up a snowball from the ground and launch it at Tuck, but he easily ducks it, shooting me a wink.
“You’ll have to try harder than that,” he says, coming to an abrupt stop right in front of me, clearly exerting effort to keep himself from wrapping his arms around me in front of everyone else.
Disappointment gnaws at my own chest, because I’d love nothing more right now than to press into him as he curls his arms around me, rubbing my face into his neck to warm up my cheeks and nose which are starting to sting from the chill.
