❄8 *Unedited. Read at your own risk :)*
“What is that, a pig?” I laugh, my legs tangled with Clyde’s.
“Shut up,” Clyde says, pretending to be hurt as he gently smooths the palm of his hands over the windowpane to erase his previous drawing.
From where his palms brush the glass window, small crystalline sheets of frost expand to cover the window like a blank sheet of paper. i don't think i'll ever get used to the ice stuff coming out of your palms thing. he was sort of like spiderman i guess-just with ice....
“If you think you’re so good, you try drawing an elephant,” he tells me, sticking out his tongue.
I laugh. “I’m sure I can make a better drawing than you can. Mine won’t look like a pig, it’ll actually look like an elephant,” I tease.
Clyde rolls his eyes, settling his hands on the sides of my legs to slide me forward - so I’m closer to him in the small window ledge space.
The upside of sitting by the window in the third floor is that you can see everything- the snow capped mountains, trees and little log house but of course, it’s beyond freezing here.
Snuggled in Clyde’s red hoodie and a warm afghan, I lift my finger and begin.
Clyde watches me as I draw, a jokingly skeptical look on his face.
I barely draw the curve of the body before Clyde is laughing.
“That doesn’t even look like the body of an elephant,” he exclaims.
I pause, glaring at him.
“I’m not even done,” I complain. “I let you finish.”
Clyde bites his lip, concealing his laughter. “I’m sorry, you’re right.”
He withholds his smile, watching me continue.
By the time I’m finished, I lean back and realize that perhaps drawing an elephant wasn’t the easiest thing to do.
Clyde leans back a little, observing my drawing, a glint to his eyes.
“Um, it looks like a real elephant,” he chokes out, trying his hardest not to laugh.
I frown, giving him my best pouty face. “Shut up.”
Clyde chuckles, his black hair falling into his eyes as pats my leg.
With Clyde sitting in front of me, both of our backs on the opposing walls, the ledge isn’t long enough for both of us to sit with our legs stretched out. So, to compensate for the lack of space, both of us we’re sitting with our legs overlapping with the others.
I wasn’t complaining about the lack of space though…
“Are you cold?” Clyde asks, for the umpteenth time.
I smile, shaking my head.
If I said I was cold, he would only move away.
Even with his jeans covering his legs, I can still feel his cold temperature settling into my legs.
Leaning back, I yawn.
YOU ARE READING
The Santa Clause Act (Completed)
Teen Fiction❝ Wait," I say, backing away. "Let me get this straight- you're Santa Clause?" I stare at the boy no more than a couple years older than me. He had to be kidding. He rolls his eyes, his handsome face illuminated by the lights on...
