Sweetheart

49

Lizzie
December 2020

It's snowing.
It's. Snowing!

I open my eyes at five-thirty in the morning and notice this amazing fact as soon as I glance outside the window, through a slit between the curtains.

"Aaron. Aaron, wake up," I whisper-yell, grabbing his shoulder and shaking him.

He mumbles, "What, what's going on? You okay?"

"It's snowing," I reply, excited. "I wanna go outside."

He blinks a few times, groaning as he stretches his back. "Can't we wait for when we leave with the others?" he asks, his voice still hoarse from the night.

"Nooo, I wanna go now," I cry like a kid. "Please, please, pleeeease?" I beg him, lying on his chest.

He sighs, rolling on his stomach and trapping me under his body. "Can you wait, like, an hour? I really like how warm this bed is."

I groan. "I'm going now."

"Half an hour and we'll go."

"Aaron, you're annoying," I complain, helplessly lying there.

He chuckles. "Touché."

"Don't pretend to know French for one second, you little shit. Je vais te tuer (I will kill you)."

Aaron frowns and glares. "Salope (Bitch)."

I gasp, exaggerated. "The audacity. And since when do you speak French?"

Aaron rolls his eyes. "My mom was born in Québec. Elle m'a appris le français (She taught me French)."

I raise my brows. God, that's hot. "So I can't talk shit about you?"

"Non (No)."

I sigh. "Putain (Fuck)."

"How do you know French?"

"My parents made me take it since I was a kid. They have many business owners and associates from France," I explain. "Can we go see the snow now?"

"Hm. No."

"You're an ass."

He hums, chuckling as he lies down next to me. Annoyed, I plant my cold foot on his bare back, making him flinch forward and hiss. "Fine! We can go see the motherfucking snow."

I grin. "Yay."

———

"Aaron, man, you look like shit. Did you sleep?" Logan asks at breakfast, sitting in front of his best friend at the table.

I press my lips together to avoid laughing when Aaron glares at me. "Not enough," he states, tired.

Logan looks at us both. "She kept you up all night?" he asks, malicious.

"Please, Lizzie, explain to the group why I look like a zombie this snowy fucking morning," he tells me, folding his arms and staring at me.

Davina coughs, "He's grumpy, huh?" She shuts up when he shoots her a dark look.

I roll my eyes at him. "It was snowing and I wanted to see the snow."

"At what time?" Aaron presses.

"Early."

"How early?"

I sigh. "Five-thirty in the morning."

"Five-thirty in the fucking morning."