SHADES of GREEN ↬ m. wheeler

XI. WARM

CHAPTER ELEVEN
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❝WARM❞

　
　

AN ICY CHILL enveloped Jade the moment she stepped out of the door. She shouted a goodbye to her mother and closed the door behind her, shutting out the only source of warmth.

　The grass was frosted over, the sidewalks slick with ice. Someone had gone through the street earlier that morning, pouring salt on the roads. They did nothing about the hard piles of snow in every yard, however, or the slippery sidewalks. Jade stepped onto the street and made her way to the corner of Denver St. and Maple St. Dirty slush lined the creases of the sidewalks.

　Needless to say, the air was not getting any warmer. Without the proper conditions to melt, the snow simply hardened and clotted. It was actually pretty disgusting. Still, it was all worth it, because she would soon meet Mike at the place they had met every morning and parted every afternoon since Wednesday.

　Considering today was Friday, Sarah was, needless to say, quite surprised when Jade woke early and declined a ride. Jade had used the excuse of needing to exercise—this wasn't strictly a lie; while she was thin, she was not precisely healthy—and left before her mother could ask too many questions.

　Now Jade's curls fluttered in a freezing gust of wind, and her boots crunched on slush. In spite of her thick gloves, the cold seeped inside the fabric and numbed her fingers. It was near impossible to keep her mind off of Mike these days, of the things he'd done or said the night before at her house. But now another thought, one that had bugged her before, yanked at the strings of her mind.

　Why in the hell was it so cold?

　Sure, Indiana was a cold state; winters were agonizing. But Jade was born and raised in Indianapolis: She was used to the cold—or so she thought. In all of the years that she had been alive, though, she had never even dreamed that the air could get this cold. Not in the United States.

　Eventually, however, Jade looked up and saw Mike waiting at the pole, atop of which two green signs read Maple St. and Denver St. Her cheeks flushed immediately; a slow warmth trickled into her veins and spread.

　Mike had not spotted Jade yet. A notebook lay open on his forearm, and with his other hand he held a pencil. He scribbled away at the page, seemingly engulfed in whatever he was doing. Jade couldn't tell whether he was writing or drawing.

　Moments later, he heard the crunch of Jade's boots against snow. Mike's head shot upward, in her direction; for a moment, he looked like a deer caught in headlights. Several black curls fell over his wide, dark eyes. Then he assumed an expression of relief, carefully closed the notebook, and bent to stuff his things into his backpack.

　Jade's heart did a few funny little jumps inside of her chest. Her attempts at holding back a smile proved fruitless. That warmth was spreading like fire to gas, effectively blocking out the cold.

　"Hi," Jade greeted, pushing her fists deeper into her coat pockets.

　Mike straightened up, throwing his backpack over his shoulder. His hands were gloveless, to Jade's horror. Still, he smiled at her, skin paler than usual; the cold seemed to have that effect, and Jade liked it. It contrasted starkly with the boy's dark hair and dark eyes, again throwing him into a canvas of light and darkness. An angel. Marveling at his beauty, Jade felt a little hopeless.

　"It's cold as shit," Mike returned in greeting, rubbing his hands roughly together. Even still, he held that smile.

　His cheeks were pink, flushed with the cold. Jade wanted more than anything to reach out and touch him, to run her fingers across his skin. It was an odd thing, to think of how soft his cheeks looked, but even something so simple made Jade's stomach churn, made her chest bloom with an internal warmth.