‘Don’t be mean!’ Haf laughs. ‘I don’t have a good excuse. I’m just rubbish. But...’
She reaches down to ball up some powder snow in her hands.
‘I’ll show you how rubbish at throwing I am.’
‘Don’t you dare! I’ll whack you!’
‘You can try, but I’m very quick.’
‘This is unfair.’ Kit laughs, ducking down as a snowball flies over her head.
Haf bends down to grab some more snow, and to her horror, Kit shoves a handful of snow down the back of her coat. Haf shrieks at the cold on her warm skin, and Kit scampers away, cackling.
‘Aaaaah! I’m going to get you!’
Haf rushes up behind Kit and grabs her around the waist, pulling her tight against her body. Kit wriggles against her, laughing and squirming to get away, but she holds tight.
‘I’m not letting you escape to cause more snow crimes!’
‘You’re the one threatening to throw things at me!’
Suddenly, Kit spins in Haf’s grasp, and the sudden movement sends Haf off balance, her Doc Martens sliding on the old, icy snow underneath the powder layer, and both of them go crashing down.
‘Oh my God, are you okay?’ Haf asks Kit, who has landed completely on top of her. ‘Was I a good crash mat, at least?’
‘I’m fine.’ She laughs. ‘If I’m not, you can just carry me back.’
The shock of the fall fades and all that remains is the realisation that Kit is lying on top of her.
‘I wouldn’t bet on my noodle arms,’ she says softly, trying to ignore how good it feels to have Kit’s weight on her.
Frosted snowflakes glitter in Kit’s hair, and her nose is blushed with the cold. She looks extremely cute, which is funny because “cute” is not a word that she usually thinks of when it comes to Kit. Striking, mildly terrifying, incredibly hot, sure. But in the snow, she looks undeniably adorable, and it makes Haf’sheart ache. There’s so much about this woman that she wants to know and learn. She wants to be the expert on all things Kit.
‘Fashion a sledge and get the dogs to pull me back. I believe in you. Also, oh my God, your hands are freezing? Why aren’t you wearing gloves?’
‘Oh, guess I forgot to pack some,’ Haf says nonchalantly. ‘I always have cold fingers anyway.’
‘Right,’ says Kit slowly. She sits back, straddling her, and looks up at the tree above them. ‘Hey, look. It’s your favourite horrible plant.’ She points at the bough above them where someone has tied a sprig of mistletoe with a tartan ribbon.
It’s the most natural thing when Kit leans down to kiss her, like they’ve been fighting in the snow all their lives. The kiss is soft and warm and gentle, unlike their hungry kisses in the cupboard.
But sirens go off in Haf’s brain, her thoughts leaping from Jennifer and Freddie, to the argument in the cupboard.
‘Stop,’ she says, pushing herself up to sitting.
Kit slides off her into the snow. ‘Are you okay,? Haf? Talk to me.’
Hot tears prickle at her eyes, and she can’t catch her breath. ‘I can’t. I can’t.’ She gasps, like a fish out of water. Melting snow seeps through her clothes, but still she feels too hot.
‘You can’t what?’ Kit says, getting to her feet and holding out her hand to help Haf up.
She wants to yell, ‘I can’t just be okay with this when you’re not. I can’t just go along with you when you don’t know how you feel. I can’t be here right now, getting hurt again.’
But instead, what she does, is run.
At first, she hears Kit yelling behind her. It’s a dick move to run off but she can’t stop.
Haf slams into the house, leaving the back door wide open behind her, and stands over the kitchen sink, not sure if she’s going to pass out, or be sick, or just get a drink of water. A few moments later, the dogs crash in after her, followed by the distant sound of a car driving away. Kit’s, she presumes.
