I laughed. “Yes. But we also need hot chocolate. What is a snow day without hot chocolate?” I managed to escape his grasp and climbed out of bed. God, it felt good to smile and laugh. I felt like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders. I would have said I felt like a kid again, but I didn’t. I felt better. I was me, and for the first time, I was actually okay with that.
“How do you know it’s snowing?” He pushed the covers back and yawned. “You haven’t even looked outside.”
“Can’t you feel it?”
“Feel what?”
“That tingly feeling in your bones? The quietness of the city like it’s wrapped up in a blanket? The buzz of excitement in the air?”
He laughed. “Oh those things. Normally I’d just look outside or at the weather forecast…”
I opened up the curtains and gestured without bothering to look. I knew it was snowing. I didn’t need a weatherman or eyes to know it.
“Huh. You really could feel it.”
I smiled and turned to look out the window. The snow danced in the wind. And it didn’t bring back painful memories. It just made me happy. Today was about making new memories. I turned back to Eli. “So about that hot chocolate.” I raised my left eyebrow.
“Two hot chocolates coming right up.” He got out of bed and stretched.
“On second thought…” I left the window and jumped back onto the bed. “Maybe the hot chocolate could wait a minute.” I gave him what I hoped was a seductive smile.
“A minute?” He shook his head. “I’m going to need much longer than a minute.”
I laughed as he climbed back in bed with me.
***
“Are you sure you don’t want my help?” I asked as I sat down at the kitchen counter.
“I know my way around a cup of hot chocolate.” He grabbed two mugs out of the cupboard.
“Is that so?”
“There’s a few secret ingredients that make my hot chocolate the best in the world.”
I laughed. “Aren’t you cocky today?”
“You’ll see for yourself in just a few minutes.” He twisted off the cap on the milk carton and started to pour milk into one of the mugs.
“What are you doing?”
He ignored me.
I slid off my stool. “You can’t do it that way,” I said and pushed the mug away from him before he could pour any more of the milk.
“What do you mean?” He slid the mug back into place.
I grabbed the milk carton away from him. “What on earth are you thinking? You can’t make hot chocolate in the microwave, you lunatic.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s best on the stove,” V said from behind us.
I glanced over my shoulder to see him scowling at me. He titled his head down so that his hoodie shadowed his eyes.
Suddenly I wasn’t in the mood for hot chocolate anymore. My stomach felt like it had flipped over. “Right.” I placed the milk on the counter. V looked upset. Why? And why did I even care? I grabbed a pan to distract myself and turned on a burner. “You have to do it on the stove.” My voice came out as a whisper, like the past was trying to catch back up with me.
It wasn’t V I was upset about. It was the reason why I preferred it on the stove. That was the way Miles’ mom had always prepared it for us. The two men around me started to blur away in a memory. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, willing the memory to go back to where it belonged.