Chapter 15: Snowflake Slip-up
956 Words
Snowflakes tumble down, soft and thick, turning the quad into a winter wonderland. Everyone else seems to glide through it like they were born for this, but me? I’m a walking disaster waiting to happen. My new festive hat is snug over my ears, oblivious to the tiny green sprig perched on top. That detail might be harmless—probably—but my luck says otherwise.
A stray flake lands on my nose, and I sneeze, wobbling dangerously on the icy cobblestone. My textbooks lean to one side.
“Watch it!” Jasper’s hand shoots out, catching my elbow before I go down.
I stare at him, cheeks heating. “Thanks… again.”
“Again?” He raises an eyebrow, smirking. “You make me sound like a babysitter. I’m not your nanny, you know.”
“Well, apparently I need one,” I mutter, tugging the hat lower. “The snow has it out for me.”
“It’s not the snow,” he says, amusement flickering in his eyes. “It’s the hat. That tiny sprig on top? Pure chaos.”
I squint at him. “Are you enjoying this too much?”
“Absolutely,” he admits. “I mean, come on—you wobble, flail, and somehow keep your textbooks from toppling. It’s like watching a slapstick show in real life.”
I groan, swinging a book awkwardly. “Slapstick is right. Except I’m the star, and I didn’t audition.”
“Exactly,” he says, hooking an arm through mine. “But I’ve got front-row seats. Lucky me.”
I blink at him, irritated and relieved all at once. “You’ve been watching this whole week?”
He grins. “Oh, Ivy. I’m invested now. You can’t have all the fun alone.”
I roll my eyes, muttering, “Fun is not the word I’d use.”
“Exciting?” he offers, tilting his head.
“Exhausting,” I correct, shoving a stray snowflake off my sleeve.
He chuckles, tugging me back from a slippery patch. “Exhausting is my favorite flavor of chaos.”
“Your favorite?” I repeat incredulously. “I’m the one almost sliding into a snowbank!”
“You’re surviving,” he counters, voice teasing. “Barely. But surviving counts.”
I frown. “Barely? I nearly lost my coffee three times before we even hit the quad.”
“And didn’t,” he points out, smirking. “Score one for Ivy.”
I groan, tugging the hat down. “I feel like I’m one sneeze away from disaster.”
“Then sneeze dramatically. I’ll catch you,” he says, deadpan, and I can’t help snorting.
“Do you even know what’s on top of this hat?” I ask, wiggling it nervously.
“I have a theory,” he says, smirking. “Something green, possibly mischievous, maybe… plotting against you.”
I glare. “Mischievous? Plotting? You’re insane.”
“And yet,” he adds smoothly, “here I am, keeping you upright. All part of the plan.”
A snowball whizzes past, just missing my shoulder. I yelp and spin around. He laughs, catching my books mid-wobble.
“See? Heroics.”
“I could have managed that,” I protest, snatching them back.
“Could have,” he repeats, voice teasing, “but I saved your dignity. You’re welcome.”
I roll my eyes, muttering, “Dignity is overrated anyway.”
“Maybe for you,” he says with mock seriousness. “But the audience disagrees.”
I glance around. Students are laughing, some whispering, a phone pointing my way. My cheeks heat. “Audience? Great. Just great. I feel like a snow globe attraction.”
“Exactly,” he says, nudging me gently. “And I’m the one privileged enough to stand beside the exhibit.”
I groan and tug the hat lower. “I swear that sprig on top is plotting. It has a vendetta.”
Jasper raises an eyebrow. “Maybe. Or maybe it’s just waiting for the right moment.”
I glance at him suspiciously. “The right moment for what?”
He smirks faintly. “For chaos, Ivy. Pure, delicious chaos.”
I groan dramatically. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”
“Maybe a little,” he admits. “But mostly because I like seeing you handle it. And, okay… maybe because the hat makes you more… interesting.”
I bite my lip, heart skipping. “Interesting?”
“Yeah. Surviving, flustered, flailing—interesting. You’re like a snowstorm in motion. Beautiful and slightly dangerous.”
I blink at him. “Dangerous? Me?”
“You said it, not me,” he says with a grin.
I groan, tugging my hat down again. “I hate this hat.”
“You don’t,” he says gently, voice low. “You just hate the attention it brings. But honestly? I kind of love it.”
I gape at him. “You—love it?”
He shrugs. “It’s entertaining. And honestly… I like being around you. Chaos or not.”
My heart stutters. I can’t tell if it’s the cold, the snow, or him. Maybe all three.
And just as I start thinking I might survive the morning without catastrophe, a rogue snowball flies past, smashing into a nearby trash can. I yelp and stumble slightly. He steadies me with a laugh.
“Ready?” he asks, arm still linked with mine.
I groan, brushing snow off my sleeve. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”
“Good,” he says, smirking. “Because this is only Wednesday.”
I can’t help but grin. Chaos might not be avoidable—but with him, it’s somehow… bearable.
- Writer
