Snowed in

Part 8

Jude

Can I see you today?

I sent that text to Phoebe an hour ago, and I don't think my heart has stopped racing since. It sounds desperate, and I can't even read the text without cringing. But since I dropped Phoebe off last night, I haven't been able to think of anything but her. I spent all night tossing and turning, my bedsheets becoming wrapped endlessly around my legs.

Our kiss was like a slideshow in my head. A collection of moments in slow motion, coming back to me in flickers and sparks. Smiling couldn't describe my expression; I was positively ecstatic. There was something about Phoebe, about being around her that makes a fire burn in my chest, warming my entire body.

"What are you smiling about?" I snap out of my daze, lifting my gaze to look at my mom. She raises her eyebrows, shooting me a smirk. I can't even try to hide my smile; it's permanently plastered to me lips.

"...Nothing." I say feebly, knowing I won't be able to maneuver this around my mom. She'll get it out of me, the entire story with Phoebe.

"Don't bullshit me Jude. I birthed you, I know you." I let out a soft sigh, chuckling as I look around the breakfast table at my two sisters, who're also hanging onto my every word. Like mother, like daughters.

"Well... there's a girl-"

"I already guessed that, my boy." I shook my head. This woman was on the ball, if nothing else.

"Her name's Phoebe. She's here on holiday, from Belfast, and... we've been hanging out a bit. I was out with her last night."

"When did you meet her?" Charlotte, my youngest sister at 4 years old, pipes up, between mouthfuls of cereal.

"About a week ago. She um, she ran into me at the slopes, actually." My mom laughs then, shaking her head.

"You didn't trip that poor girl up, did you?"

"No mom," I eat another spoonful of my own cereal, ignoring the taunts I'm getting from both Charlotte and my six year old sister Beth. "She ran into me."

"Sure, sure, son." We all continue eating for a few more moments of blissful silence, until, the bubble bursts.

"I want to meet Phee-bee." Charlotte says, sounding out Phoebe's name like a maniac.

"I don't, I don't know when-" I begin to say, but am cut off by my mom.

"Invite her around for dinner." I consider it for a moment. I would love for my family to meet Phoebe. I want everyone on this planet to have the privilege of meeting this smart, beautiful girl. But I don't want to push Phoebe too hard, force her to meet my crazy family too early.

"Would you, would you be okay with that?" I ask, directing my question at my mom.

"Of course. I'd love to meet this girl. In all honesty, I need to check that she's mentally okay, hanging out with you and all." She snorts at her own joke. I'm my mom's favorite butt-of-the-joke. It's an easy way to lighten the mood sometimes, when we're all tired.

"Hah hah mom, very funny." I smile, collecting the empty breakfast bowls, and taking them into the kitchen.

"I'm serious Jude," my mom yells over her shoulder. "Call this girl. Say we'd love to have her over. I'll make whatever you'd like. A big bowl of chicken soup? I think that'd be great for a cold day like today." I listen to my mom's ramblings, my smile returning once again.

My phone chirps from my pocket, and I almost drop the bowl in the race to retrieve it. It's a text back from Phoebe.

haphazard skier (the irish one): if i haven't scared you off yet