Being so erratic, the weather quickly brought the blizzard as fast as it melted it. The feet of snow were quickly being reduced by the cooperation of the hot sun and shoveling. I ditched my coat and left the hotel with only my knitted sweater. The boys were much more daring, wearing only t-shirts.

"What if it gets colder later?" I warn Vincent, walking alongside him as the others stride ahead.

"Sucks for me then," Vincent shrugs.

"You need to get into the habit of bringing a light sweater at least.

"I'm not trying to nag you. It's only because I'm worried about you-." I stop before making any more abrupt confessions. Vincent seems to find it amusing and slings his arm over my shoulder, nudging me forward.

"I know," Vincent finally replies.

By popular vote, we go back to the doughnut shop since Carson, Luke, and Logan didn't think yesterday's amount was enough. This timethey each get a dozen to eat and take back. Vincent and I settle for a pizza from the shop next door, which we shared. As expected, the donuts cause a food coma, so they retreat to go see a movie. Since Vincent and I already watched it (well, I watched a good ten seconds of it), we opt to walk around the mall instead.

"You didn't go here yet, right?"

"Nope," I reply

"Oh, yeah. Cause I got sick. Sorry."

"No, I didn't mind it."

"Why didn't you just go?" Vincent asks as if he's expecting a cartoon answer. Hoping for something.

"I...was freaked out who sick you are. Someone tough like you barely moving made me think you were dying."

"So you were worried?"

"Look! A pet store!" My excitement was partly genuine and partly was to change the subject. It worked since Vincent doesn't mention our conversation anymore.

"Want to look inside?"

"Do you think they have stuff for turtles?"

"Why? Do you need to buy something for Wilbur?" The fact that Vincent bothers to remember my turtle's name makes my heart flutter a bit. Sometimes, even my friend forget.

"Yeah, I need to get him a Christmas present."

"A present for your turtle?"

"Yep."

"Okay," Vincent just shrugs it off, used to my abnormalities by now.

I immediately head for the reptile section, while Vincent hangs around a pen of bunnies. A puppy excitedly jumps and barks, drawing Vincent's attention. He goes to pet it, and I catch myself admiring how gentle and cute he looks. I'm going crazy.

It wouldn't make sense to buy Wilbur a house since he wears his. I could get him a new water bowl, but that's boring. Not like Wilbur would notice the change. Instead, I buy a pricy platform made with wood for Wilbur to climb. If he's anything like me, he won't ever use it.

"Hi, anything I can help you with?" The store worker addresses Vincent while he busily plays with the puppy that's in a glass pen.

"No, thanks," Vincent politely declines, his eyes not leaving the puppy.

She makes another attempt for conversation asking, "Are you thinking about getting a pet?" She looks around the be our age. She's pretty and stands out, even in the drab uniform, with the help of her bouncy blonde curls, lined eyes, and glossy lips. I check my reflection in the mirror and I'm disappointed with the sight of my oversized sweater, crusty eyes, and tangled mop of hair.

"Not really," Vincent replies, moving on to look at the other dogs.

"You look like a dog person."

"Do I?" What could've have been a playful question is said very monotone.

"Do you live around here, or are you on vacation?"

"We don't around here," Vincent chooses not to disclose our city.

"We?"

"Yeah." Vincent tugs on my sweater to bring me in towards him, but hands almost dropping Wilbur's gift."

"Oh, I didn't know you guys were siblings."

"We're not."

"Cousins?"

"We're not related."

"Oh, so you guys are friends."

"She's my girlfriend."

At the same time, I reply with, "Yeah."

She looks at us in bewilderment, not sure who to listen to. My answer is accepted since its preferred.

"So you're single?" She continues to inquire.

"Nope," Vincent bluntly answers.

"You're friend seems to implying that you are."

"You mean my girlfriend?"

"I'm just his friend," I reassure her.

"Do you want to catch a movie with me? The new horror one?" She continues, not backing down.

Heck, if I was a guy, I would be charmed by her confidence in seconds. But, Vincent Miller is different. I guess with many girls fawning over him, even beautiful girls seem average to him. I wonder what that makes me. The equivalent of an orangutan? No, that's offensive to orangutans since I'm much more unattractive. Most people can make up for their unideal attributes, a "ugly" characteristic compensated with something especially beautiful about them. Not for me. Looking like a "plain Jane" would be better than my current state.

"Already watched it with my girlfriend. I'll wait for you outside, babe." Vincent coolly strides outside, leaving me in an awkward state with the cashier. Babe?

"Sorry about that. He's just wierd." I slide the wooden platform across the counter towards her.

"I get it. Friends joking around."

"Yeah."

"It's obvious you guys aren't dating."

I give her a grimace.

"If you guys aren't dating, you wouldn't mind giving me his number, right?"

"It's not really my choice to give it away. You should ask him yourself." This comes out a bit more hostile than I intended.

"I'm pretty sure he wouldn't mind. I usually get along with guys like him."

"It didn't look like he was interested just now, actually."

"What would you know? You look like you wouldn't know what an interested guy would look like," she retorts back, mirroring my growing agitation.

"Yeah? What do you know about my friend? I know for sure he wouldn't be interested in a girl like you!"

I leave a twenty dollar bill and storm out with Wilbur's gift, not bothering to wait for the change or receipt. I storm off in a random direction, Vincent closely following me. After a while, I stop nearby a fountain, frozen into ice, panting and fuming from anger.

"Ugh, can you believe the nerve of that girl? Who does she think she is to be so entitled to have your number? Gosh, I could just-ugh!"

"Wendy-"

"What makes her think that you'd be interested in someone so arrogant? Ugh!"

"Wendy-"

"I hope a puppy pees on her."

"Wendy..."

"What?" I ask, forgetting to lower my tone.

"You're hurting my wrist."

I quickly let go of Vincent's hand, which I didn't realize that I was dragging him by from the pet store.

"Sorry," I apologize sheepishly, returning back to my quiet voice.

"Did she piss you off?"

"No, what makes you think that?"

"I don't know. Maybe because of the fact my wrist was about to pop off."

"Oh shoot! Was it that bad?" I reach for Vincent's hand and start to examine his wrist. Sure enough, there's red streaks on it. I feel guilty, but I would be lying if I didn't admit that I was proud of myself for being able to display some strength for once in my life.

"What did she say?"

"She wanted me to give her your number. Saying how she gets along with guys like you! Ugh, what does she know about you? I know for sure you wouldn't like such an airhead!"

My indignation returned once again, and I shrunk back in embarrassment when I catch Vincent staring at me in awe. Slowly, a smirk curls up.

"Are you jealous, Wendy?"

"Huh?"

"You're jealous because a girl asked me out."

I scoff," No, I'm just protecting you from half-wits as a friend."

"I'm pretty sure you're jealous," Vincent teases in a sing-songy voice.

"I'm pretty sure I'm not," I counter with the same voice.

"Today's my lucky day, I got a rare sighting of an angry and jealous Wendy."

"I wasn't jealous," I try to say firmly. My voice comes out shaky though. Was I jealous?

"You did the right thing though. I don't want any girls to have my phone number except for you and my mom."

"What about Veronica?"

"My little sister doesn't have a phone yet."

Am I really the only girl who has his phone number? The thought makes my insides flutter.

Vincent briefly checks his phone and then puts in back into the pocket of his sweat pants.

"The guys haven't finished their movie yet, so we have some free time. Wanna get ice cream?"

"You get me, Vincent Miller." Vincent seems to gain some pride from my acknowledgment, hurrying off to an ice cream parlor and coming back with a vanilla cone and a mint cone.

Like in fall, we go back to the hidden park, with the splintery, old bench and unraked leaves from then now frozen into blocks of snow. Like in fall, we eat silently for a while, and then sit silently for a while, and then slowly began to talk.

"This brings me back to fall break," I reminiscent.

"Yeah," Vincent agrees.

"We ate the same stuff too."

"Do you remember what I said?"

"Yeah, how this was your secret treasure."

"What else did I say?"

"Hmm... How you wanted to keep it to yourself... Shoot! But you showed it to me."

"Do you remember the reason why I showed this to you?"

I was confused by his words then, so I don't answer, unsure if I understood him correctly.

"You reminded me of this place."

"Oh yeah..."

"I think I jinxed myself."

"Why?"

"I said I didn't want anyone to know about this place. But now I want everyone to know that I want this place to me only mine, but then everyone would find out about it. I don't want to hide how much I like this place anymore though."

"I don't get it."

Vincent laughs. "Maybe you're too dense of I'm saying crazy stuff."

"Probably both."

"Probably."

Vincent turns and hangs his legs over the metal armrest of the bench, which is tucked under his knees. He lays his head on my lap and closes his eyes.

"I'm tired, so be my pillow."

"We just woke up."

Vincent replies with a yawn, keeping his eyes closed. At first, I'm skeptical if he's actually asleep. However, I can hear his breathing slow and his head naturally drops to the side, which I catch from rolling off my thigh.

His nose slightly twitches once in a while, forming furrowed brows. His resemblance to a rabbit wiggling its nose and whiskers causes me to uncontrollable smile and admire him. With my one free hand, since the other is pressed against Vincent cheek to keep this face upright, I pick at loose strands of hair, moving them off his face. Not sure if I was motivated by boredom or by my susceptibility to his gentle face, I start to trace over his dark brows and brush his long lashes upwards. I'm shocked by a white speck that lands on them, causing me to scan the sky. Light snow starts to fall like specks of cotton. I bring my hands up to form a shield above Vincent's face. Throughout all of it, I can't seem to pull my eyes away from Vincent.

With only so many hands, I can't cover Vincent's exposed arms. Therefore, his arms aren't protected from the cold tingles of the while specks. Like an instinct, with eyes still closed, he turns over and brings his arms up, tucking them between his chest and my stomach, hiding them from the snow. I let's my hands fall to his arms and try to keep with warm by rubbing with my sweater sleeves. To shield his face, I lean my head forward and let my hair fall down into curtains around him.

Sitting on the same bench back in fall, I could've never imagined how much Vincent would mean to me in such little time. Like Carson said, maybe I wasn't aware of how much Vincent tried to protect me. He was the pillow that cushioned my falls. I want to be a pillow for him too. I just can't tell if being his friend or accepting my feelings for him would make me a pillow, or the reason for his fall.