Status: complete!

An Idea

one of one.

"Nicole, honey! I need your help down here right now!" My mom hollered from the bottom floor of the cabin.

I sighed, double-checking that my phone was on silent before sliding it underneath my pillow—Mom would kill me if she found out that I'd have my phone at all during our stay at the Christmas Cabin. I took my time going downstairs because the chances were I'd have to help her with cooking or Andrew and Donald with moving or decorating—and I did not want to cook or work together with Andrew.

Andrew. What was there to say about Andrew? He was perverted, obnoxious, had the corniest jokes I've ever heard and it was completely impossible to get anything productive done in his presence. Don't get me wrong, in no way are we enemies, but we also aren't the best of friends. Although we never talked in school and constantly got into petty little arguments whenever my mom and his dad hung out, we had a blast when we weren't arguing and got along. You could only stay mad at him for so long before you betray yourself and start laughing along. He was like a little brother to me... only he was older than me and much, much more attractive than I'd find my brother.

But that's beside the point because I'm currently angry with him—regardless of how shiny and bright his blue eyes were or how his amazingly messy brown hair contrasted with them.

"Where have you been?" Mom interrogated me as I entered the kitchen.

Her hair had flour in it and there was a piece of plastic paper in her hair, but I wasn't going to point that out and ruin my humor. "Well, when Andrew spilled the orange juice all over me, I had to take a shower—again—and get dressed—again," I explained, looking away from her subtly so I wouldn't giggle at her appearance.

"You looked to the left. You're lying," she accused. I went to protest but she continued. "It doesn't matter; you're here now. I need you to go help Andrew shovel the snow. Donald will need to go to the store in a bit and you can't get out of the driveway due to the snow."

I scoffed. "I am not going to help Andrew shovel snow," I said firmly, crossing my arms. She gave me her infamous warning look and I cringed. "Mommy, please. I do not want to help him. I'll go out there, try to help and he'll most like just start throwing snow at me. Please, please, please don't make me go out there."

"You're helping him. End of story," she told me. "Now, your coat's by the door, along with some gloves. The extra shovel is right on the porch. Now go or else you won't be getting any Christmas Eve Cake." Why my mother had to name everything during Christmas time beats me, but whatever.

I sighed exasperatedly but headed toward the door anyway. I begrudgingly pulled out my jacket and shoved my hat over my head, grabbing the gloves on the way out. I catiously looked around, searching for any sign that Andrew is coming up with some diabolical plan to kill me with snow. When I didn't see any sign of him, while I wasn't sure whether I should be relieved or worried, I picked up the snow shovel and walked over to the driveway, digging the shovel into the nearly 11-inches of snow.

"Damn, shouldn't you be sitting on top of the tree, angel?"

I huffed, ready to shoot a snarky remark at the brown-haired boy as I turned around but before I could say anything, I felt a snowball hit me straight on the nose. "Ow!" I shrieked, my hand flying to my nose. I glared as I watched Satan—excuse me, Andrew—fall to the snow in laughter. I dropped the shovel, and with both hands, picked up as much snow as I could and ran over to him, dropping the snow onto his face.

I watched in triumph as he got stuck between laughing at me and choking on the snow. "Totally worth the four pounds of snow you just made me eat," he announced once he gathered himself, standing up. My glare didn't lessen, even when I had to turn my head upward to keep his gaze. He stared right back into my eyes and I could feel myself starting to get lost in his blue orbs. I noted how there were darker flecks of blue the closer you got to his pupils.

Suddenly I noticed his eyes cross, causing me to snap out of my trance and break the stare contest. I was mentally scolding myself for getting too caught up in him when I heard him laugh. "You were doing good, Nicole," he praised. "For a second there, I thought you'd win. Your stare was pretty intense."

"Yeah? Well, you cheated. So I actually won," I said, walking back to my original spot and picking up the shovel to continue shoveling.

"Oh, is that so?" I heard him ask from behind me, humor and taunt lacing his words. I didn't respond, hoping he'd just leave me alone so I could finish up quickly and get back inside the warm house. But he had other plans, apparently. "You know, I think this was an omen; us being out here, shoveling snow together."

I snorted. "Yeah, this is definitely an evil situation," I agreed, picking up the pace of my digging as the wind picked up.

"I meant a good omen, silly," he pshawed, his voice closer. I quickly turned in fear that he was going to through even more snow at me, but I noticed he had only stepped forward a few feet. He held his hands up in surrender. "Jumpy?"

"Whatever," I grumbled, taking my attention off of him again as I continued the task.

"As I was saying; it's an omen that we're out here. Together," he explained. "Fate, if you will."

"I'm pretty sure fate and an omen aren't the same thing," I told him, rolling my eyes.

"Maybe they are, maybe they aren't. Does it matter?"

"You're right, it doesn't," I agreed. "And that's because this isn't fate or an omen or whatever else you want to call it. This is the simple fact that the car is snowed in and your dad needs to leave later for the store, so we're shoveling snow. That's it. Now please, just start."

"Ooh, someone's angry today," he commented, showing up next to me as he started shoveling a little bit of snow.

"I'm not angry; I'm cold," I corrected him. "And the longer this takes, the colder I get. I'll be in a perfectly good mood once we're inside and warm."

He was quiet a few minutes, the only noise coming from the shovels and snow. "I have an idea," he said suddenly, his tone sounding like he just had an epiphany. "How about we make a deal?"

"Oh God," I muttered.

"No no, it won't be anything life-threatening," he assured me. "What do you say we have a snowball fight? If you win, I'll finish the shoveling by myself and you can go inside and... bathe in fire to keep warm."

I raised an eyebrow at him. "Really?" I asked him skeptically. Andrew never really was one to offer to do work himself, so I was waiting for the punchline.

"Really," he promised. "Whoever gives up first, wins."

"Alright," I said, dropping the shovel. "You're on." Before he had time to do anything, I picked up some snow and packed it sloppily before throwing it at him and running.

"Cheater!" he called but I barely heard him as I ad already made it behind the house and was packing snowballs, ready to fire. Deciding I had enough at the moment, I peeked around the side of the cabin and my eyes narrowed when I saw no sign of Andrew. Where the hell could he have gone? I quickly realized where he was when I heard someone yell, "Gotcha!" before i felt a snowball hit my back. I spun around and found him packing another snowball—of course he wasn't prepared—so I quickly started grabbing my snowballs and hurled them at him. He hurried to a tree and crouched down behind it, only moving to throw—and miss—snowballs in my direction.

"You're doing real good, Andrew!" I taunted from behind a tree that was only a few yards away from his. I crouched down and started making more snowballs. "Your aim just gets better and better—there's no way you'll be losing!"

"I wouldn't get too cocky," he called, his voice seeming very close.

"Of course I'm not cocky," I replied. "You're way too good at this for me to be co-" I was cut off by a bunch of snow falling on top of me, some making it's way down my jacket somehow. I gasped, darting to my feet and quickly pulling at my clothes to get the snow out. I saw Andrew laugh as he dropped a bucket on the ground before balling up snowballs and pelting them at me. Between trying to get the freezing, melting snow out of my shirt and how many snowballs were being thrown at me, I knew I was losing.

"You're doing real good, Nicole!" he echoed my words from earlier. "Your aim just gets better and better—there's no way you'll be losing!"

"I'm not even throwing any, stupid!" I shot back childishly. Unfortunately he threw one while I was talking and his aim had improved, seeing as it hit my mouth. I spit out the bit of snow that had entered my mouth. "I give! You win!"

He stopped working on the snowball he had started and dropped it, grinning. "Yes!" he said, punching the air in victory. After a little dance—that looked more like a seizure—he walked over to me, smirking as he stood before me.

"Yeah, yeah," I muttered, giving up on getting all the snow out of my clothes. "Well, you can go inside and tell my mom that I lost a bet and now I've got to shovel the driveway by myself."

He raised an eyebrow. "And why do you have to do the driveway by yourself?" he questioned.

I looked at him like he was stupid. "Because I lost the snowball fight...?" I answered more like a question. "Wasn't that the point of the entire thing?"

"That was the point of you winning," he corrected. "If I lost, you got to go inside and I had to be out here by myself."

Now I was confused. "What?" I asked. "Then what do you get for winning? Remember, it can't be life-threatening."

Andrew gasped in fake shock. "Would I make you do something life-threatening? I can't believe you think such a thing of me." I gave him a look, causing him to chuckle. "Of course not. All I want from you is a kiss."

"You're kidding," I deadpanned. A kiss? I mean, as I said before, Andrew is pretty gorgeous and he was my fourth grade valentine. But wouldn't that be weird? I've known him since second grade—I knew him when he came crying to his dad because he woke up with a boner one morning and thought he was dying. It would definitely be weird.

"Nope," he said, popping the 'p'. "Just one little kiss. Then, if you want, you can go inside and I'll stay out here and shovel."

I sighed. "It'll be quick, right?" I asked.

"One little kiss usually is quick, yeah," he answered.

"Fine," I spoke. "But it has to be qui-" I was cut off by his lips crashing into mine. I responded, bracing myself for the awkwardness of it. But it never came. Instead, as his hands moved behind my head and my arms went around his neck, I felt butterflies. It felt... right. Apparently he thought so too, because I felt him smile against my lips as he deepened the kiss.

I was the first to pull away, out of breath. "Just one little kiss, right?" Andrew asked, smirking. "It'll be quick."

I rolled my eyes, unable to keep my own grin from forming. "Shut up," I commented, walking away.

"Tell your mom I'll be in there in a little bit," he instructed.

I turned around, walking backwards. "I'm not going inside. I think I'll stay out here and help you," I told him. "Who knows? It might be fun."

His smile told me he thought so too.
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okay once again this turned out not as good as i'd like but i really wanted to get another one out and yeah so i hope you like it.
merry christmas! c: