December Kisses || chaennie

Chapter 6

The warmth the car supplied made me never want to leave it. It helped that there were pillowed across the back seat and the customary blankets that were set there for night drives such as the one we were about to embark on. I climbed into the back and wiggled into the centre seat and poked my head between the passenger and driver seat.

It was ten o'clock at night and with that came the pitch-black sky, the dropping temperatures and lamps lit up and down the streets, making a dark yellow illuminate the footpaths and buildings. I'd be in the comfort of my own bed if it weren't for my best friend telling my roommates to lock the door to my bedroom to keep me awake until she arrived.

Jennie put on her seatbelt and didn't move to start the car. Instead, she sat still with her arms crossed.

"Aren't you going to drive?" I asked.

"I didn't invite you so that you'd nap in the back of the car, Rosie."

"Hey, that wasn't the plan," I grumbled, moving further forward.

"Come on, sit up here with me."

"Shouldn't we see the lights from different vantage points?"

"Rosie."

"Jennie."

"Rosie."

"Fine."

I climbed into the passenger seat, purposely making my body parts as awkward and lanky as possible throughout the move, making Jennie pull ridiculous faces. I positioned a pillow behind my head and buckled up, turning to face her with a 'there you go' expression, which she responded with a 'you're a loser' one.

So, we drove into the night, soon joining heavy traffic as everyone wanted to see the lights being turned on in the city centre. It was the same thing every year and I didn't quite understand what all the fuss was about. Seeing teenagers walk the streets like zombies and older people walking their dogs toward the entertainment left me grateful that Jennie had a car.

Christmas tunes blasted from the radio, making me curl onto my side, just to see Jennie biting her lip as to not give herself the opportunity to join in with the festive music. She managed to hold back from letting her natural holiday spirit from going wild.

"We're seeing the lights from the top of the wheel," she told me, hopping out of the car.

"Must we?"

"We must." A stall on the market seemed to have caught her eye. Without dragging her gaze away from it, she shooed me off. "Get us a spot, will you? I'll be with you in a second."

"Jennie."

"Mhmm?"

"But strangers..." I whined out.

"I'll become a stranger to you if you don't save me a spot."

"Ugh."

"Good girl."

I shuffled onto the wheel and settled back into the seat and clicked on the seat belt. It wasn't like public transport, where you could place a bag beside you to signal to strangers to find another seat. The wheel could only turn once the chair had filled up. 

My hands clasped together, and my eyes trained forward. Jennie would have rolled her eyes at my lack of preparation to have small talk with someone.

My fingers pulled the tips of the fabric of my glove away and let go, repeatedly. Someone slid in next to me. The movement made the seat rock back and forth mildly, enough to make me grip the railing for dear life.

That response clearly was a source of amusement, as a tinkling laugh soon followed. Like any normal person, I did in the end glance to my left, to see who dared to mock me. I was ready to present a perfected scowl—but then the image registered with my brain and I was left with a gaped mouth.

"Hot chocolate?" I began to grin. "Seriously?"

"It's tradition," Jennie claimed, handing me the cup.

"Ugh."

"What now?" she said, rolling her eyes.

"Why you gotta be so damn perfect?"

She looked down as we started to rise. "I'm not perfect."

I snorted. "You really are."

"Just..."

"If you're going to ask me to stop... I won't."

"No. Just hold my hand, Rosie."

"Don't need to."

"You're trembling."

"From the cold."

"You're pretty perfect too," she said, absentmindedly, prying my fingers away from the rail so she could hold them.

"Pfft."

"You'd face your biggest fear just to do this with me every year. If that's not a form of perfection, I don't know what is."

I held up my cup with my other hand. "This."

She clinked her cup with mine and agreed, "This."

We didn't even notice the lights had already turned on.