Jack
I watch her. In the pale, frozen winter days and nights I am the chill that follows her – the cold that clings. I see her look for me. It kills me to see her hazel – green and gold and brown – eyes rove over the snow and ice, looking for someone she'll never see.
It's all I can do not to go back to her.
I hear her best friend's words over and over again, even though they're long gone. Forgotten in stagnant air far away from here.
You don't deserve her.
And I know he's right. But she's still the fever that burns through me – the fever that will not break.
She doesn't sleep in her bed anymore. She sleeps by the window, even though I know there's a draft, because that's as close as I come to touching her. To being next to her. I draw patterns on her window in frost and I want them to spell out my love for her. I want her to see the visceral evidence of how much I care.
And I think she does. Because every morning she puts her hand on the window and she whispers my name, like she can feel me there. I wait for the morning when she wakes up and doesn't say my name first thing. I wait for the night that she sleeps in her bed instead of by the window.
It doesn't happen.
And I long for her when I know I shouldn't. But I don't think I can stop.
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Frost Bite
Teen FictionA thousand years ago, Jack died in a snow storm. Or at least he should have. Now, he's just saved Josie Herrmann from the fate he should have suffered - and he doesn't know why. Now someone - someone powerful, who knows just what Jack is - is tryin...
