Allie Calvin is the oldest and only daughter of Scott Calvin. She was 15 when her father puts on the suit. Allie Calvin is nothing like her brother. She doesn't believe in Santa, she doesn't believe in magic, and she doesn't believe in elves. Allie...
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The snow fell softly outside, blanketing the world in a thick layer of white.
Inside Bernard's cozy house, the warmth radiated from the fireplace, casting flickering shadows across the walls. It was the kind of evening that felt made for intimate moments, and Allie found herself nestled comfortably in Bernard's lap, her head resting gently against him while his fingers combed soothingly through her hair.
Bernard was engrossed in his book, the pages whispering secrets in the mellow light. He could feel Allie relax against him, the rhythm of her breathing syncing with the soft crackle of the fire. It was a contented silence, punctuated only by the occasional turning of pages and distant echoes of the winter winds outside. Allie closed her eyes, enjoying the warmth and the sound of Bernard's voice—muffled yet enchanting—as he read aloud certain passages that made him chuckle.
"Did you know," he said, breaking the tranquil pause, "that in the middle of a blizzard, people used to think the wind sounded like a wolf?" He glanced down at her, his brow raised in exaggerated seriousness. Allie's eyes sparkled with mischief, a fond smile appearing.
"Really? Were there a lot of werewolves around back then? You know, in the dark days when you lived?" she teased, and Bernard laughed, a rich sound that filled the room.
"Hey." He warned playfully. "I think they were just trying to explain the eerie howling sound. But I could be wrong—it does sound very mystical, doesn't it?"
Allie opened her eyes, looking up at him with genuine curiosity. "So what you're saying is that people invented werewolves because they were afraid of the dark and the snow? That's kind of poetic, I guess."
With a smile, he kissed the crown of her head, the soft touch intimate yet light. They continued talking about myths and legends inspired by seasons and nature, bonding over shared laughter and playful banter. Eventually, the last page of the book turned, marking the end of the journey they shared through its narratives.
"Alright, what now?" Bernard asked, closing the book and looking down at her, noticing the spark of excitement in her eyes.
"I think it's time for a card game," she declared, her voice laced with glee, pulling herself upright. "You can't just read all evening! How about friendly competition?"
Bernard smirked as he watched her bounce off the couch. "Friendly competition? Yeah, right! I've seen you play. You're ruthless."
"All the more reason to play, right?" she shot back, already moving toward the kitchen.
The kitchen contrasted the living area's coziness with its sleek appliances and modern decor. The scattered remnants of their earlier baking adventure—flour dust, cookie crumbs, and remnants of icing—made it feel lived-in and warm. Allie rummaged through the drawer for the deck of cards Bernard had, while Bernard leaned against the counter top, pretending to strategize.
"Okay, let's make it interesting," he said. "Loser has to do the dishes tonight."
Allie raised an eyebrow, folding her arms. "And what do we get if we win?" she asked, leaning closer with an inviting grin.
"Hm, good question. How about the winner gets to choose our next adventure together?" Bernard suggested, his voice low as he stepped closer, relishing their playful exchange.
"Adventure it is!" Allie beamed, and their laughter filled the kitchen as they dealt the cards, the atmosphere thick with excitement.
The game began, Allie placing her cards down strategically, her competitive spirit shining bright. Bernard played it cool, pretending to be absorbed in his cards while sneaking glances at her. Each round unfolded with more playful teasing, feigned disbelief, and light-hearted accusations of cheating.
"You know you're just lucky, right?" Bernard huffed after Allie won yet another round, throwing his hands up in mock defeat.
"Or maybe I'm just better than you," she retorted, her eyes twinkling with mischief.
"As if." He scoffed. "But, I'll admit, you're good."
They finished up their game, and once Allie won the last round, she gave Bernard a triumphant look. Bernard rolled his eyes, only a little upset about the multiple losses.
The two stood up, finding themselves in the living room again, this time setting up an easel. Bernard grabbed a plain canvas, grabbing multiple brushes, and different colors of paints. He set everything down, and grabbed the blonde's hand.
"Okay, Allison," He began. "Are you ready for your first time painting?"
"Ready as I'll ever be!" she replied with a grin, though her eyes darted to the neatly arranged paints spread out across the table. She looked up at Bernard, her green eyes sparkling with curiosity. "What should I paint?"
He looked over to the window, pointing outward. "How about the winter landscape? Look at how the snow blankets everything. It's like a fresh start. You can capture that feeling."
Allie followed his gaze, watching the snowflakes as they settled gently on the evergreen branches. Inspired, she nodded, her confidence slowly building.
Bernard set to work preparing a palette of colors. "Let's start with the sky," he suggested, mixing shades of blue, gray, and a hint of lavender. He handed her a brush, moving closer to guide her hand. "You can use these colors to create a soft gradient. Just blend them together."
Bernard smiled, his heart warming more than the fire ever could. They often shared ideas, dreams, and ambitions, but this—creating art together—felt different, more intimate. He watched as she tentatively dipped her brush into a pot of white paint, nervously glancing at his progress before adding her first stroke to the canvas.
With that simple gesture, Bernard couldn't help but offer guidance. "Think of it as a dance, Allie. Let the brush lead you. You can always adjust it later."
After a few moments of careful concentration, Allie began to lose herself in the act of painting. Her strokes became bolder as she layered blues, whites, and hints of sparkling gold, depicting a landscape that resonated with the quiet beauty of winter. "Like this?"
"You've got it!" he encouraged. "Feel the brush as an extension of your creativity."
As she painted, the colors began to flow, and soon a magical winter scene emerged—blue-gray skies with wisps of lavender forming soft clouds, a landscape where frosty trees surrounded a peaceful cabin, small and rustic, much like Bernard's home. She became more absorbed in the process, her initial anxiety melting away like the snowflakes outside.
"Look, you can add depth by using darker shades at the bottom," Bernard instructed gently, mixing the colors with her. "And don't forget the shadows. Shadows bring everything to life."
Time slipped away as they painted side by side, sharing small stories and laughter. Bernard added details to his canvas, a solemn owl sitting high on a branch, watching over the snowy expanse he had created. Allie's vision diverged into vibrant trees dotted with tiny glimmers of light that resembled the soft glow of the moonlight shimmering upon freshly fallen snow.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, the room darkened, illuminated only by the soft flicker of the fireplace and the light of festive string lights draped around the room. Their beautiful creations began to take life against the cozy backdrop, glowing with shared inspiration and love.
"Look!" Bernard exclaimed, stepping back to admire both their works. "They're beautiful."
Allie's laughter floated in the air like a gentle melody. "I think it turned out decent for my first painting. I don't know how you do this with ease."
Bernard began to cap his paints. "My mom taught me."
Allie went silent for a moment, watching Bernard as he kept his eyes down. Slowly, she walked over to him, and wrapped her arms around his neck. Bernard froze, the paintbrushes he had gathered falling back down onto the table. Slowly, he wrapped his arms around her. It was still for a moment, and then Allie felt tears on her neck.
The girl sighed a bit, and hugged him tighter. She rubbed his back, telling him it was okay. It was only tears, but Allie could feel him holding back sobs.
After a few minutes, Bernard straightened up, wiping his face. He gathered the brushes, and Allie gave him a bright smile. The boy smiled back, though his eyes were still teary. Once everything was picked up, Allie grabbed his hand, and tugged him to the couch.
"Come on," Allie said. "Let's just relax for a while."
The two sat on the couch, with Bernard's head resting in Allie's lap. She ran her fingers through his hair.
As the night settled in, they embraced the quiet stillness around them. Allie tilted her head back, listening as Bernard's breathing began to settle. She couldn't help the smile on her face, knowing how lucky she got with Bernard.
