Superficial (DE)

Thirty-seven.

Cerise scooped up a bunch of snow in her mitten covered hands, packing it together into a ball, tightly, periodically glancing over her shoulder to make sure Brandon wasn't watching her. A gentle breeze coasted through the air blowing around loose strands of her hair and making them stick to her gloss covered lips. The air was cold and crisp, fresh.

With a troublesome smile, she stood, hiding the snowball behind her back as she walked back over to where Brandon was working on their snowman in the yard. After he made them lunch, she begged him to go outside and make a snowman with her. And after twenty-minutes and a little whining Cerise convinced him to go outside with her.

They layered up in a bunch of basics, hoodies and sweaters, coats and sweats, a few pairs of his tube socks before going out into the yard. They worked on the snow man together, piling mounds of snow atop one another. Brandon's need for perfection consumed him as he started to take the construction of the snow man seriously not even realizing Cerise had slipped away. Grinning, she stopped just a few feet shy of him, his back turned to her.

Cerise raised the snowball, cocking her hand back and throwing, missing. The snow ball flew past his head and hit the snow man, bursting. Cerise froze as Brandon slowly looked over his shoulder, his brows heavy casting a scary shadow over his eyes. Cerise screamed and started running, jumping through the deeper parts of the snow but Brandon caught her within seconds. He snatched her up by the waist and lifted her off the ground threatening to slam her into the soft snow.

Cerise screamed and laughed, kicking her feet wildly to get him to put her down. "Please! I'm sorry!" she pleaded as he looked at her with a sardonic expression, his lips dancing with amusement. "Babe pleaseeee!"

Brandon set her back on the ground, her chestnut colored Uggs sinking into the snow. She giggled thinking she was safe until he abruptly pushed her backwards into the snow. Cerise fell back becoming immobile in the deep pile as she sunk, the corner of her lips drug down in a frown as Brandon snickered hysterically.

"Get me out— now," she demanded irritatedly.

Brandon pursed his lips together to keep from laughing, extending his tattooed hand and pulling her out. Cerise narrowed her eyes at him before scooping handfuls of snow and flinging it at him, in his face, on his head, covering his clothes. Brandon stood still with an unamused expression, letting her think she was doing something.

Her chest heaved up and down, winded from throwing so much snow at him. She wore a sassy expression as she looked at him like she'd just dropped the hardest diss tape of the century.

"Are you done?" He asked flatly.

She made an expression as if she were thinking. "You know what— actually— I'm not," she said going to scoop more snow but he snatched her up again, tossing her over his shoulder.

"Heeeeeey!" She frowned as he walked back to the patio, stomping his feet on the concrete to shake off extra snow. "Picking me up is not fair," Cerise grumbled. She hung upside down on his shoulder in silence patiently waiting to be taken inside, her shoulder blade length hair hanging in her face. Once inside he sat her on the couch gently, holding out his hand. She instinctively gave him her foot letting him pull her Uggs off.

"You don't get bored doing nothing all day?" Cerise asked as she watched him strip out of his layers.

"Take those off please," he instructed, referring to her clothes. "And no. Why— are you ready to go back home?" He asked, watching her strip.

Cerise shrugged. She enjoyed being with Brandon, just them two. Even though there wasn't much to do they reveled in each others presence. It was easy and fun. But she was tired of being trapped in the house and looking at miles of snow and pine trees. They'd spent the last week together, learning eachother, cuddling by the fire every night, working out together, having loud crazy sex, deep conversations, and falling in love— more. The rendezvous jitters dissipated finally but the butterflies remained. He no longer felt like her shameful guilty pleasure but a regular part of her life now.