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Abigail’s words keep playing over and over in my head as I follow her up the giant hill. I tried to carry the sled, but she insisted, spouting off some bullshit about it being a rite of passage for her.
Whatever. I’m fucking helpless when it comes to this girl. I’d give her whatever the hell she needed or the shirt off my back if she aske
d for it, which is why I was determined to be the one to take her sledding when she voiced interest.
Now I’m determined to push her limits and see how far she’s willing to bend. Last week when we were texting as Tom and Bethany, she mentioned a willingness to change her plans. At the time I wanted to ask her if she meant what she said, but if there’s one thing I’ve learned about Abigail over the last couple of weeks, it’s that she needs to take things slow, and I didn’t want to push her. I thought if I sat back and let her take the lead, she’d show me where she wanted this to go.
But she didn’t do a damn thing, and I started to think maybe she regretted what she said to me that night. Then a bit ago I saw the ache in her eyes when I told her how I want her and can’t have her, and I heard longing in her voice when she said today we’re Drake and Abby.
Now all I can think about is how different today would be if this were an actual date for Drake and Abby.
“So, if this is whatever we want it to be, does that mean it’s a date?”
Abigail stops, the red plastic sled hoisted over her head, but doesn’t turn around. “Is that what you want it to be?”
“Yes.”
She seems to think about it for a second and then keeps climbing. “What if someone finds out?”
“How would anyone find out?” I ask, scooping up some snow. It’s wet, not powdery—exactly how I like it.
“I don’t know; I’m just asking.”
“Are you going to tell anyone?”
She shakes her head. “No, but I’ll want to. I see how the other nurses look at you.”
“Now look who’s jealous?” I tease.
“Oh, I’m not jealous.”
“You’re not, huh?”
“Nope, I don’t get jealous. It’s not part of my DNA.”
“So you wouldn’t be jealous if I told you I dated Farrah?”
Abigail gasps. She spins around just as I hurl the snowball I’ve been making, and it smacks her in the chest. Whatever she was about to say dies on her lips, which have formed a perfect little O.
“Did you just throw a snowball at me?”
“I did.”
“I see.” Dropping the sled to the ground, Abigail bends down and gathers a handful of snow. She starts forming a ball, and all I can do is laugh.
“Oh, sweetheart, you have no idea what you’re starting. Remember, I’m from here. I’ve won more snowball fights than you—"
She nails me right in the nose with her tiny snowball and laughs out loud. Using my sleeve, I wipe the wetness from my face.
I scoop up more snow. “Three.”
Abigail’s smile fades.
“Two,” I say, starting toward her.
She shrieks and runs up the hill as fast as her snowsuit and clunky boots will let her, sled be damned. She’s so stinking cute, thinking she can get away from me.
“One.”
