I whimpered pathetically.
“They had to close the roads,” he said.
“Stop.”
“The power went out.”
“No!” I groaned, covering my face with a pillow. He pulled it away and smiled at me, eyes sparkling like he knew a secret. He leaned toward me conspiratorially.
“I’m horribly contagious,” I said. Come closer, I thought.
“I’ll risk it.”
My heart throbbed in my chest as an as-yet-unnamed emotion swelled inside me. It’s the fever, I reasoned. What else could it be?
“Am I hot?”
Fitz’s eyes widened in surprise. “What?”
“I think I still have a fever. I’m feeling feverish. I’m feeling—” His palm touched my forehead, the contact rendering me speechless.
“You’re burning up.”
“I told you I’m very hot.”
He rolled his eyes while I giggled deliriously. “This sucks,” he said.
“Are you worried about me? I should be better soon.” I smoothed the wrinkle between his eyes with my finger.
“It’s not that. I know you’re not dying. But I have this surprise set up, and I was excited to show you—”
“A surprise?” I sat up and my head protested. “For me? I’m in.”
“No, you’re too sick.”
“Nonsense.” I threw the mound of blankets off and stood up, stumbling as the room spun. Fitz grabbed my hand until my head felt less loopy. In that moment, I knew I didn’t care what the surprise was, because the important thing was this: Fitz had a surprise. For me. The thought made me dizzier, somehow. Fitz wasn’t the type to plan surprises for me, not like when Tommy Weisman sent me a Valentine’s Day candygram in seventh grade and then cried when I promptly ate it.
I sat on the handlebars of Fitz’s bike while he steered. At his house, he ducked into the garage and retrieved a bulky garbage bag. “Quick wardrobe adjustment before we go in,” he explained as he opened the bag. He slid a beanie over my hair, brushing a stray tangle out of my face with his fingers. My skin blazed under his touch. He wrapped a scarf around my neck while my heart hammered in my chest. He slipped gloves over my fingers, and I nearly passed out.
“What are you doing?” I whispered through searing pain.
“You’ll see. Now close your eyes.”
“Why?”
“I imagined it with your eyes closed. Please?”
“You imagined it?”
Fitz sighed and placed his hands gently over my eyes before leading me from the freezing porch into the still-freezing house.
“Why’s it so cold?”
“Because you’re delirious with fever.”
“I’m not.”
“You are. But it’s okay. I think it’s going to work in my favor. Open your eyes.”
He moved his hands and I opened my eyes to snow.
In the house.
I tried to blink away the blinding white, but it didn’t go anywhere. Fitz’s living room was transformed. Piles of white, fluffy “snow” covered the coffee table, end tables, and tile floor. I bent to run my fingers through it.
Snow.
It wasn’t, of course, but in all the ways that matter, it was.
“How’d you do it?”
“Aw, don’t ask me that. It’s better if you don’t know.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Sorry it’s not cold,” he added sheepishly.
“It’s perfect,” I breathed.
He smiled extravagantly, his cheeks pink with embarrassment or cold underneath his ball cap.
He was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen, and I was in love with him.
The force of the revelation buried me like an avalanche. I dropped to my knees, sending tiny white flecks of fake snow fluttering in all directions.
I loved him. Of course I loved him. How had that never occurred to me before? He made me a snowstorm. How could I do anything other than love this boy?
“I’ll show you the real thing someday,” he said as he crouched next to me.
“Promise?” The room was spinning again. I needed to lie down.
“Pinkie swear.” He winked.
I lay down and made a snow angel, breathing in the scent of baking soda. He leaned back on his arms, watching me with an amused smile. My eyes found his and we stayed like that for several breaths, my heart pumping hope and fear through my body like a drug. My fever was 103 and I hadn’t eaten in five days, but I felt happier than I ever had in my life. “I could stay here forever.”
“I should get you home.”
“Already?” My voice was thick with wounded disappointment.
“You should be in bed, and Ivy’s on her way over.”
Ivy? Ivy McGuire? Ivy McGuire from third-period world history? “Why?”
His grin turned wolfish. “I’m going to woo her.” He spread his arms wide.
“I don’t get it. Is she obsessed with snow or something?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Isn’t she from Chicago?”
“Um, I don’t … yeah, that sounds right.”
“So she’s seen plenty of snow.”
“Probably.”
“Then why did you make this for her?”
“I made it for you.”
“Then why show it to her?” I snapped. If I focused on my anger instead of my crushing disappointment and jealousy, maybe I wouldn’t cry.
“This is my grand gesture!”
I rolled my eyes. “Why can’t you do something else? Why can’t it be enough to show the snow to me?”
“Because I’m not trying to make out with you.”
Clearly. I blinked away the white-hot tears. “I don’t feel good.”
“I kept you too long. But hey, I’m glad you loved it.”
“Hopefully Ivy will too.”
“That’s the plan.” He winked again, creating an ache in my heart that would set up permanent residence for the next two years.
* * *
Fitz shakes me out of my half slumber and painful memories as he turns off the main road and pulls down a long dirt driveway that winds deeply into a grove of pine trees. At the end of the driveway is a large multistory wooden cabin.
“We’re not exactly roughing it,” I say, taking in the high, peaked roof and the wraparound porch. It resembles a ski lodge more than a rustic cabin. “So, what do I need to know?” I ask Fitz.
“What do you mean?”
“About your sisters. What do I talk about? What don’t I talk about? I want them to like me.”
“Everyone already knows and loves you.”
“Not Darcy.” Fitz’s eldest sister is the only one in his family I haven’t met. She lives in Boston with her new wife and, from what I can tell, only visits at Christmas.
“Don’t worry about it. You’ll be fine.” His eyes meet mine across the warm car, and I swear there’s something different in the way he’s looking at me. Maybe it’s the heat blasting at my cheeks or the gingerbread cabin in front of me or the Christmas music on the radio, but suddenly the warm air feels charged. “Are you ready?” His eyes spark as he looks at mine.