HIM & I || BXB

III

Walking in the snow isn't as bad as I'm expecting. There's more snow by the minute, but it's not that cold, and the flakes are large and wet. They dust our eyelashes and melt into water droplets on our skin.

And then there's Tom. He hasn't stopped smiling since we left the parking lot, kicking snow clumps around and laughing every time some ends up on my jeans. It's contagious, the way his eyes crinkle up all soft and he stares up at the sky in awe.

"You act like you've never seen snow before," I tease. He looks down at the sidewalk, shoving his hands in his coat pockets.

"I really haven't before," he admits. "I grew up in California, and it never snowed there. I'd only seen snow in movies or on the news."

"Oh, wow," I say. "God, I can't imagine never having snow."

He laughs quietly. "Yeah."

"So does this mean you've never built a snowman, or made a snow angel, or anything?"

He considers this. "We used to make sand angels in December, but it always just kind of hurt my back."

"Christ," I say, shaking my head. "That's a disgrace." I shrug off my backpack and toss it on a nearby bench. "C'mon, we're going to make some essential childhood memories."

He just looks at me for a moment, expression unreadable again, and I falter.

But then he smiles brighter than he has the entire time we've been together and my heart beats again. He places his backpack next to mine and looks up at me expectantly.

My mind goes blank. His eyes are widened slightly and he's still smiling faintly and I want to kiss him so badly it hurts.

I don't, of course. But I hold out my hand and he takes it. I pull him over to the nearest yard, his fingers warm and a little rough.

"Okay, so you did this in California right?" He nods. I realize my hand is still in his, and more importantly that he hasn't let go yet.

I'm the one who does, a moment later, to demonstrate falling backwards into the snow. Unfortunately, it's only been snowing for maybe twenty minutes, so I land in half an inch of soft snow and six feet of hard, frozen earth.

"This is the part where I would make a beautiful angel, but actually I'm just in pain." I say as snowflakes drift into my eyes. Either Tom or the snow has made me giddy and it's easier to talk.

Tom laughs out loud, the beautiful traitor, and hits the ground next to me.

"Hey, you don't need to suffer, you could've stayed warm and dry," I say, kicking his foot.

"I have to make those 'essential childhood memories,'" he reminds me, and I don't need to turn and look at him to know he's smiling, but I do anyway. His cheeks are flushed and his dark eyes are shining.

"When's your birthday?" I ask.

He doesn't miss a beat. "April 14th, 1998."

"Bullshit."

"I swear to god, I'll even show you my birth certificate when we get to my house."

"There's no way you're older than me," I say, sitting up. He does the same, and we sit close in the cold snow.

"Why?" he asks, raising one eyebrow. "Don't I look sixteen?"

I laugh. "No way, dude, you look like you're maybe fourteen."

"What? How?"

"Well, you know, you're," Ridiculously pretty and delicate and fragile and I want to kiss him I want to kiss him I want- "you're really small."

He rolls his eyes. "That's what everyone says. I'm not even that small, I'm only an inch shorter than you!"

I snort. He shoves me.

"You're so thin though," I say, still smiling at the ground. "That's why you look so much smaller."

He frowns. "Yeah, I hate it."

My smile slips. "What, why?"

He looks away, putting his arms around his knees. "Like you said, it makes me seem so small. I hate that. I want to seem strong."

We sit in silence for a few seconds. The air is cold in my lungs, and everything seems very important all of a sudden. Tom lies back down, spreading out his arms and closing his eyes before speaking up again.

"Like you," he says. "You look strong. You're only an inch taller than me but you look more, I don't know. Masculine. I look like a fucking girl."

"Hey," I say quietly. "No, you don't. True, you're pretty for a guy, but you don't look like a girl."

He's quiet for a beat, and then he opens his eyes, a small smile forming on his face. "You think I'm pretty?"

Shit. "Well, uh, yeah. I mean it's hard not to notice, you're just. Pretty." I'm positive that made it worse, but what am I supposed to say? No homo? Yeah, you're so pretty that I can barely stop looking at you, but don't worry man, it's platonic.

He closes his eyes again, still smiling. It may just be the cold, but he looks like he's blushing. "You're not so bad yourself."

My heart explodes. I laugh, trying to stay cool. "Thanks." Holy fucking shit. Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit.

Is he... flirting with me?

We sit in silence again, but it's comfortable now (minus the erratic jumps of my heart). Once again, he's the one to break it.

"We're still ten minutes from my house," he says. "If we don't get home soon, my dad's gonna get mad."

I nod. "Right, yeah." I stand first, and hold out my hand to him. He takes it and allows me to pull him up, but I miscalculate and he topples into me. His other hand brushes my chest while as a instinctively grab his hip to steady him. His face is inches from mine, and he's looking right at me.

"This is the second time you've fallen," I manage to say.

"Yeah," he says. "I'm kind of clumsy."

His hand moves from my chest to my shoulder. The snow falling so hard that the only thing I can see is him. He looks at my lips and then back to my eyes. My breathing is shallow, but his is steady and sure.

So I kiss him.

And he kisses back.