Last Kiss

Despite the fact that so many people hate the snow, I can’t help but love it. Sure, it’s cold and wet. It shuts down schools--the epitome of a parent’s nightmare. It causes traffic to be backed up for miles, just because one little car slid a bit too close to a tree, and it covers windshields in a thin layer of ice, barely thick enough to need scraped off.

Still, there’s a startling mystique about freshly fallen snow. There are few things I love more than when you wake up in the middle of the night, in need of a glass of water, and look outside to see the beautiful, barren land of untouched powder. It’s pristine and white, bathed in only the light from the porchlights of the buildings around you. If it’s the first snow of the year, or the first snow in awhile, you run outside into the darkness, excited to see the unofficial end of Fall.

Then, you look up, and see the flakes still falling, swirling on their way down to join their friends on the ground. They originate in the clouds, but you don’t think about that at you gaze up in wonder, squinting to see where they’re coming from. And, seemingly instinctively, your tongue darts out, catching one of the tiny crystals. It instantly melts, and there is so little water that you can’t even swallow. Yet a smile appears on your face nonetheless, the sheer childlike joy of catching snowflakes overtaking your senses.

And suddenly, you’re dancing and laughing and reveling in Winter, excited for the beginning of something brand new.

It didn’t matter that it wasn’t anywhere close to the first snow, nor that it was nearing the end of winter; the rest of the walk back to Consol made me feel just as giddy as the first snowfall of the year. Perhaps, like snow signals the beginning of winter, I felt that this snow was signaling the beginning of something beautiful. Kris and I had stood there for a long time, our lips passionately moving against each other’s, lost in our exploration of emotions. Finally, we reluctantly pulled away, our rapid breaths leaving little puffs of clouds in the chilly air.

Then Kris, ever the French Canadian, softly whispered, “Serez-vous le mien?”

I couldn’t help but lightly chuckle, not understanding him in the slightest. “Je ne comprends pas, ” I said, reminding him once again that I didn’t speak his language.

Kris smiled very slightly, lifting one hand to cup my cheek. “Just say oui,” he replied, before connecting our lips once again.

When we finally pulled apart, I couldn’t help but grin up at him. “As persuasive as your argument was, I don’t think I can agree to something without knowing what it is,” I said with a wink. “Although, if you want to keep trying to persuade me, I wouldn’t protest.”

Kris smirked. “I think you’d like that too much. I could just pelt you with snowballs until you agree,” he said with a shrug. “That would be fun, too.”

My eyes went wide in mock-shock. “You wouldn’t dare,” I said, unable to contain a giggle, stepping back out of his arms.

“Wanna bet?” he asked, raising one eyebrow. In one fluid motion, he bent down and scooped up a handful of snow, the smirk growing wider.

Crossing my arms, I gave him my best glare. “Kristopher Letang, you do not want to start this. I don’t care if you’re from Canada, AKA the land of the snow…this American could whoop your ass in ANY snowball fight, and you will lose,” I said sternly.

“Well in that case,” Kris said offhandedly, “I guess I need for you to prove that.” With that, he gently lobbed the ball at my shoulder, barely hitting me.

“I’m hit!” I cried out in mock pain. As quick as possible, I bent down, scooped up a handful of snow, and whipped it at him, hitting him square in the chest.

“Hey!” he cried out in protest. “Here I was, trying to be all nice and gentle. And there you are, throwing a giant chunk of ice at me.”

I smirked a little at him. “All’s fair in love and war,” I chuckled, walking over to brush the remaining snow off the front of his jacket.

A small smile played across Kris’s lips. “So which one is this?” he asked quietly.

His question caught me off guard, and I hesitated for a moment before answering. “I’ll let you figure that one out,” I replied before turning around and beginning to walk away.

“Hey!” I heard him call to my back. Rather than reply, I quickly scooped up another handful of snow and threw it at him playfully over my shoulder. Before I quite realized what was happening, his arms were around my waist, and we were spinning around and around like the flakes above us, our peals of laughter echoing on the buildings around us. And for a moment, everything was absolutely perfect.

------

“Hey Kris?” I asked, interrupting the silence.

“Hmm?” he asked, snuggling his face into my hair. His breath lightly tickled my neck, and I couldn’t refrain from giggling.

We had arrived back at our cars, soaking wet from the snow. I was unenthusiastic about getting into my truck and heading home, and it seemed that Kris felt the same way. When he had pulled me into a tight farewell hug, I found myself to be trapped; he wouldn’t let go. And, honestly, I didn’t want to let go, either. So we simply stood there, in the middle of Consol’s parking garage, locked in a warm embrace, content in the silence of each other’s company.

“C’mon, I have a serious question,” I laughed, reluctantly placing both of my hands on his chest and pushing him away.

Kris rolled his eyes and sighed in mock impatience. “Alright, alright,” he teased, “I’m listening.”

I bit my lip, unsure of how to proceed. What I really wanted to do was talk to him about Max. When we left the coffeehouse, Kris’s anger had permeated through his common sense. His fiery French Canadian nature had caused him to want to take immediate action against Max. Now, despite the cold around us, we were snuggling in the warmth of a blanket of happiness, elation still tingling through our veins. To say I was reluctant to bring the topic up again was an understatement. Still, I didn’t want Kris going after him.

“Hey,” I heard Kris say, and I looked up to meet his suddenly serious gaze. “Audrey, you know you can ask me anything, right? I really am istening…”

I couldn’t help but smile, and I gently slipped my hand into his. “I know. It’s just…” I trailed off, indecision playing through my mind. Kris, sensing my hesitation, began to lightly run his thumb along the back of my hand. The action was reassuring, and after a long pause, I managed to say, “What are we going to do about Max?”

Kris’s eyes instantly went dark. “Simple. I’ll kill him.” The conviction in his tone assured me that he fully intended on backing his statement up. A small shiver at the power in his words ran up my spine.

“No, Kris,” I said gently. Thankful for the roof on the parking garage preventing the snow from covering my car, I carefully sat on the hood and pulled his hand into my lap. “I don’t want you to kill him.”

He raised one eyebrow in doubt, a hint of confusion in his eyes. “Even after everything he did to you?” he questioned.

I nodded. “Even after that. Kris…” I faltered, taking a moment to get my thoughts in order. When I finally continued, it wasn’t without trepidation. “What Max did was wrong. But…if he wouldn’t have been a jerk, I never would have met you. And besides, you guys have the playoffs coming up in a week and a half, and I don’t want anything to jeopardize your team and your career.” I paused, shaking my head, “Look, the season will be over soon, and we’ll figure out something then. But for now, he’s too busy to harass me, and you can just pretend to be nice to him. It’ll all work out...”

“I don’t want to be nice to him,” Kris whined in reply, and I laughed softly.

“I know. But can you please wait till after the season? For me?” I tried desperately to convey how serious I was through my eyes. After a moment, I could tell I had won.

He reluctantly sighed. “You never answered my question, you know,” he said offhandedly.

I cocked my head in confusion. “What question?” I asked, puzzled.

“Serez-vous le mien? ” he said quietly, his soft eyes searching mine.

“Which means…?” I queried, gently squeezing his hand.

Kris wavered for a moment. “Will you be mine?” he asked hesitantly.

There was no way to stop the smile that overtook my face. Without thinking, I pulled his face to mine and pressed our lips together. It was a short kiss, but the implications behind it were mountainous.

“Oui,” I said softly, although I knew my answer had been made clear. “I already am.”