Santa Loves Curvy Girls

15. Nick

15

NICK

T he next day, I was on cloud nine.

It felt like I was walking on water, and I couldn’t stop thinking about Belle. Her soft lips. The way she closed her eyes and pulled my beard aside.

Wow.

I’d been shoveling snow for the past hour like it was nothing.

I couldn’t wait to see her again, probably at work. I wondered if asking her out again would be too soon.

Or too risky.

At the end of the day, I wasn’t supposed to let anyone know who I was. That was part of the deal. But she was getting dangerously close to finding out.

Would I really stop her if she asked? I had no idea.

To be honest, I wanted her to know. I wanted her to see the real me, now that things were happening between us. It only felt right.

I kept shoveling, feeling sort of torn inside and hoping it was okay if I ended up breaking the rules. No one had to know but us.

Right?

A lone car drove past, and I gave one of the neighbors a wave.

I leaned against my shovel, taking a rest and replaying all of the times spent with Belle. How had I never realized how great she was?

A couple of people all bundled up walked past on the opposite sidewalk, with their dog leading the way.

It was cold out, and a fresh layer of snow from last night covered the ground.

Which was why I was out here shoveling again.

By the time I finished our driveway and got going on the neighbor’s driveway, I was exhausted. Just as I was about to go back inside, I spotted a familiar figure coming my way.

Was that really…

Belle.

Getting ready to walk past me.

“Hey!” I said, then I realized there was no way she would know why I was talking to her. And that she’d recognize my voice. I cleared my throat and made myself speak a little deeper. “Hey, good morning!”

As she approached me on the sidewalk, her face went from surprise to confusion to polite friendliness.

She definitely didn’t recognize me.

“Good morning,” she called, coming to a stop near me.

I stood, leaning on my shovel. “Belle, right?” I asked, trying to strike up a conversation.

She nodded. “That’s right. We’re in the same grade, I think.”

Belle looked like she was ready to make up an excuse and keep going on with her day.

I nodded at her basket. “Do you like to bake during the holidays?”

Now a smile came on her face. “Yeah, I guess it’s my thing. I make tons of cookies every year.”

“Cool,” I replied. I indicated the piles of snow nearby. “I shovel a lot of snow.”

“I bet it’s a workout,” she said, a little more friendly now.

I nodded again. “For sure. But it keeps me busy, and it helps out Mr. and Mrs. Bowman, who can’t really do it anymore.”

She glanced around. “You should start a business or something.”

I grinned. “You’re probably right. Although snowball fights are way more fun.”

“Oh really?” she asked. “Aren’t you a little old for snowball fights?”

She was teasing me in a way I was now familiar with, and I liked it.

It almost felt like our other conversations.

“You’d be surprised. I think they get way more fun when you’re older.” I held one finger. “For one, you can bring teams and strategy into it.” I held up another finger. “And your aim is better.” I held up a third finger. “And no one ends up crying. Usually.”

That got a laugh out of her.

“My friend Kane actually has a whole business selling snowballs for snowball fights. You’d be surprised how popular it is.”

She raised her brows. “Wow, really?” She paused. “I can’t say that would be my go-to, but it sounds fun.”

“What would be your go-to then?” I asked, shifting my weight on the shovel.

“Hot chocolate for one, inside,” she said, shivering almost on cue. The tip of her nose was pink, and part of me wanted to brush her curls out of her face, but that was a no go. “And either a good book or a good movie. Or,” she said, holding up her basket, “a couple of hours of baking with holiday music in the background.”

“That sounds fun too,” I said with a smile.

She smiled back. “It is. You should try it sometime.”

“Maybe I will,” I said.

I liked Belle. Every time I spoke to her, even now, it was like she didn’t care about all the external stuff that everyone else in school cared about. She just saw me for me. She didn’t treat me any different. And she was herself too.

For once, I couldn’t wait until Christmas was over so I could be myself around her once and for all.