When he sits back down, he does not leave a respectable distance. His side is completely plastered to my side. My thigh feels like its burning from the heat of his pressed against it. As the movie sings about something that was not there before, I slowly relax my body into hi side. A few minutes later, Landon stretches his arm across my shoulders. Then he starts playing with my hair. Does he even know he is doing that? Or is he doing it on purpose? My heart is hammering in my chest. Not wanting him to stop, I try to remain still.

Landon

I feel Brooke slowly start to relax into me as I twirl her silk like hair around my finger. This night has gone great, better than anything I could expect. So far, we spent the last three hours without fighting. That is a new record. I am so in tune to Brooke’s every body movement that the movie is just with noise. She smells amazing—of raspberries and cream and Brooke. I learn so many things about her by just paying attention to small things she does. I learn she does not like olives as she picked them off her pizza. How she blurts things out when she is nervous, and that she is extremely ticklish. She loves Disney, and I got to know a little bit about her upbringing. I should take her to Disney world, I think.

“What does ‘Beagchaithnini sneachta’ mean?” she randomly blurts out.

I look down at her. She is tucked into my side, and the feeling of rightness washes over me. “What?” I ask, forgetting her question.

“‘Beagchaithnini sneachta.’ You call me that. Why? What does it mean?”

Continuing to play with her hair, I rumble out, “Little snowflake. It means little snowflake.”

Her nose scrunches up in the cutest manner. “Why on earth do you call me that?” she exclaims.

I shrug. “Snowflakes are beautiful works of art that can’t be captured or copied. No two are the same. They are unique crystals of ice that shimmer in the sun, kissing the earth with an angel’s kiss,” I say as I lose myself in the deep pools of her eyes.

Her eyes glimmer with tears, and I pull my eyebrows together in confusion. “What’s wrong?” I demand.

“That’s the most beautiful thing anyone’s ever said to me.” Tears are streaming faster down her cheeks. I cup her cheek in my hand using my thumb to brush it away.

“That is a crime in and of itself,” I whisper before my lips gently brush hers. She kisses me back, and it seems almost shy. Not wanting her to freak out and pull back like she has been, I lightly trace her lips with my tongue, asking permission for entry. When her lips part, something swells in my chest.

My tongue brushes against hers in a slow tangle for minutes maybe even hours. Eventually, I slow the kiss, bringing it to a reluctant end. She pants for breath, and for a moment, we just stare at each other. I brush her hair behind her ear and finally break the charged air.