Blizzard Boy ✓

I

"Life is tough, my darling,
but so are you."
–Stephanie Bennett-Henry

• • • • • • •

Rain pelts the streets, pounding my back in a wet cacophony. I shiver and try to pull my jacket further over my shoulders, but it's no avail against this storm.

Only an hour ago, I was kneeling by my boyfriend's tombstone with a bouquet of roses, six feet above his eternal resting place. This day marks the one-year anniversary of his death. I promised myself I wouldn't cry, yet once I saw his name engraved in marble, any coherent thoughts disintegrated.

It's been a year. I should be better now, but I'm not.

The town is practically empty, a strange contrast to its routinely bustling atmosphere. I squint as a light flashes in the corner of my vision. The roll of thunder echoes a few moments later, a cadence of symbols behind clouds. Fear courses through me; being outside during lightning is dangerous. I'd rather be under bed covers at home, but I'll have to find somewhere close tonight.

Up ahead, nestled between two small strips of trees, is a building. It's an older shop, an old-fashioned sort of place that I haven't seen before. Surprisingly, the building's interior is lit; most workers would be home this time of night. Either way, I'm not complaining. My boots slosh along the curbside rivers until I'm near enough to distinguish the name. Sips & Sweets Café. I can't afford coffee, so hopefully they won't kick me out.

Mustering an inch of courage, I push the double doors open and the strong aroma of coffee slaps me hard. I don't like coffee. My nose wrinkles and I wipe my eyes, reveling in the warmth of indoors and lack of rain beating my skin.

"Hello and welcome to Sips & Sweets, how may I...?" The cheerful voice of the only other person in the café, a cashier, drifts off almost as soon as it began.

I lift my head. Standing behind the counter, leaning forward on his elbows, is the best looking guy I've ever seen. He can't be much older than I am, but I don't think I've seen him before. If I had, I surely would've noticed.

His eyes are strikingly blue, staring at me with surprise. Messy dark hair accents his skin. His jaw is perfectly chiseled, making him resemble a celebrity that I can't quite pinpoint.

"Oh!" I stammer against the chattering of my teeth. His gaze isn't on me; it's on the puddle of rainwater forming beneath me. Way to go, Astrid. "I'm s-so sorry... I'll j-just..."

"You're soaking," he observes, amused. "Grab a chair, I'll get you a towel."

Insurmountable relief rushes through me. A part of me was expecting to be chastised. I'd have kicked myself out in his position – ruining the furniture and floor probably weren't on the guy's agenda.

He disappears into a back room. I settle into a chair near the counter and strip off my jacket and hat, grimacing at the state of my shirt underneath. The fabric clings to my figure in a very unladylike fashion.

When he reappears, he tosses me a white towel. I catch it and wipe my face off before using it to dry the floor.

"Thanks..." I take a peek at his nametag. "...Miles."

My thoughts drift back to Quinton, the deceased love of my life, and shame fills me from head to toe. Why do I find other guys attractive already? And on the anniversary, no less! Perhaps I just miss him – the feeling of hot breath against my lips, skin on skin, endearing whispers shared in the dead of night.

Miles's voice breaks the wistfulness. "No problem." He smiles. "Can I get you anything to drink?"

Despite my initial reluctance, the contemplation of a warm beverage makes my mouth water. "A cup of hot chocolate?" My brain weakly protests – I need to pay the bills, after all – but the words have already been spoken.