Blizzard Boy ✓

V

"Have no fear of perfection;
you'll never reach it."
–Salvador Dalí

• • • • • • •

"Sorry," I blurt, voice cracking as I scramble to my feet.

What the hell am I doing?

I'm no amateur when it comes to kissing. In spite of our disagreements, Quin and I had a physical relationship that would blow most couples' out of proportion. Quin was attractive, extremely so, but also out of my league. The fact was pounded into my head by jealous cheerleaders every time our lips came in contact.

Laying on top of Miles, I felt a desire stronger than I ever had before. The thoughts flying through my head were far from self conscious, however, in comparison to how I felt with Quin. I was focusing on the curve of his neck, the color of his eyes, and the strong yearning for his skin against mine.

Miles's expression is unreadable. He supports himself on the back of his elbows, a position that makes me flush. "What's wrong?"

My mind searches for an excuse. "I have to pee." Before he can formulate a response, I detach myself from the situation and hurry to the bathrooms.

Miles calls out to me, clearly confused, but I'm not about to let him witness the panic coursing through me. Quin would not have appreciated our encounter, that's for certain. On the other end of the rope, he cheated on me and passed away months ago. Why should I care what he'd think?

I enter the lady's room and lean against the sink, gaze trailing to the mirror. My reflection stares back. I was never pretty enough for Quin, yet managed to capture his heart regardless. Perhaps he never loved me in the first place. Maybe I was his pretend girlfriend, a model for his parents while he embraced other girls behind my back.

I'll never find out the truth.

Regardless of the circumstances, though, I should honor him by staying faithful. Quin's death was my fault. It's the least I can do.

After finishing my business, I rinse my hands in the icy water, grimacing at the chill that washes over me. It's colder in here than in the main room, probably due to the vent's draft.

One last glance at the mirror releases a sigh from my lips. I'm covered from head to toe in remnants of pastries. Bags under my eyes and lines of exhaustion are easily distinguishable. I need my night pills, and I really need a warm shower and my kit of makeup.

Heading back into the main room, I'm greeted by the sight of Miles on the floor, scrubbing at a mashed croissant. His apron lays discarded beside him, revealing a tight blue v-neck and muscular torso.

"Here, let me help," I say apologetically, hurrying behind the counter to grab a rag.

"I'm the employee here," Miles points out. "You're a customer. You don't need to..."

"Half of it was my fault," I argue, searching through drawers before coming across one with cleaning supplies. It still feels funny wandering behind the counter as a customer.

Together, we clean the entire coffee shop. As much fun as it was, I find myself regretting our food fight. We wasted quite a bit of supplies. Hopefully, we won't be stuck for much longer.

After the floor is shiny and clear, Miles and I lean against the wall, enveloped in a weighing silence. Both of our gazes are aimed toward the window, where snow continues to fall.

Miles and I speak at the same time. "Hey. About earlier..."

We stop. A laugh bubbles in my throat. "You go first."

He shoots me a small smile and continues. "About earlier, I'm sorry for acting on impulse like that. See, you're a beautiful girl, and..."

"Beautiful?" I snort before falling silent, realizing my mistake. I hate people who fish for compliments, and it sounds as if I'm doing just that.

Miles raises an eyebrow. "Astrid, you're beautiful. Any man with eyes could see that." His cheeks turn crimson. "Or, uh, woman. You're not lesbian, are you?"

"Nope."

"Good." His shoulders relax. "I mean, being lesbian is fine and all..."

"I get it. Thanks," I murmur.

"Sorry," Miles apologizes. Now, both of us are blushing profusely. "But, uh, you're a beautiful girl and with you laying on top of me, it's kinda hard to resist."

"It's fine." A smile crosses my lips. "Actually, I was just about to apologize for the same thing."

"Oh." He scratches his head. "Alright. You didn't want anything more, did you? I... you're attractive and all; I'm just not ready to enter the dating scene. We don't know enough about each other."

"I..." I swallow.

Now is the perfect time to spill the beans. It wouldn't make much of a difference, would it? Most people at school already know about Quin. Telling a stranger is different, but it might help to clear up my feelings. Miles is a cool guy, and I don't want to rule out options.

"My boyfriend passed away last year," I rush out. "I'm not quite ready for a relationship, either. I don't consider you a stranger, after spending so much time with you, but we should get to know each other before anything happens."

The air is thick with anticipation.

"I'm sorry," Miles tells me. His voice gives an honest impression. "I know that doesn't help, but I wish you didn't have to go through that."

"I'm okay," I say, swallowing any further comments.

"I went through a pretty ugly break up last year. I understand, even if it doesn't compare."

"Thank you. That means a lot."

"I'm not an easy person to date, anyway." He watches me carefully. "I have some burdens that I'd never want to balance on another person's shoulders. So, it's probably for the better."

"Burdens?" The question slips through my lips. "What kind of burdens?"

"Family stuff," he replies evasively. "It doesn't matter."

"Okay." Are those burdens the same burdens behind his signature excuse, that life got in the way? Why won't he tell me, after what I've just revealed? I decide not to pry further. "Let's be friends, yeah?"

His smile is breathtaking. "Friends."

Before long, I start to chuckle. He watches me, a spark of curiosity lingering in those irises, as my chuckle turns into full-blown belly laughter. The guffaws echo across the room, nearly making me fall on my side. When I finish, I wipe my eyes, shaking my thoughts back into reality.

Miles poses a question, unable to resist a smile himself. "What's so funny?"

"Us." At his questioning glance, I continue. "We met yesterday, after one of the worst blizzards in New York history, and we're already friend-zoning each other. Don't you think that's crazy? How fast we're going?"

"Pretty crazy," he agrees. "But that's okay. This is a pretty crazy situation."

"Definitely," I whisper, though I can't help wondering if we'll ever escape from it - and, most importantly, what kind of secret he's hiding.

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