Felicity's POV.
"I am done with boys." I flopped back on my bed, arms crossed, staring at the ceiling like it had answers. "They're egoistic, prideful, and they think the world revolves around them. Ugh!"
Penelope, perched on my desk chair, munched on crisps with the serenity of a monk. "Not disagreeing. But," she pointed a crisp at me, "you're still thinking about them, which means you're not done."
I threw a pillow at her. "Oh, shut up."
Before she could fire back, a knock rattled the door. Penelope and I exchanged a look. My heart already knew. I opened the door. And there he was. Christopher.
I crossed my arms tighter. "What are you doing here? I said I'm done. Do you not understand? Done means done."
His eyes softened, but his voice carried an edge of pleading. "Please. Just…walk with me. Ten minutes. No drama. Just us."
I should've slammed the door. I should've told him no. But my traitorous heart—it said yes.
>>>>>
Christopher's POV.
The snow had slowed to a soft drizzle of flakes by the time we reached the old Oxford streets. Cobblestones glistened beneath lantern light, and every breath hung in the air like smoke.
She tugged her scarf tighter, her boots crunching. "It feels like a fairy tale," she whispered, eyes wide.
"You're the one making it look like that," I murmured, too low for her to catch—except she did. She rolled her eyes, cheeks pink, but the corner of her lips curved upward.
We walked side by side, our shoulders brushing every so often. Every brush felt like fire, racing through me.
She stopped at a bookstore window, glowing with fairy lights. Her breath fogged the glass as she leaned in. "That's where I'd live if I could. Just me, cocoa, and books forever."
"No driver?" I teased, hands shoved in my pockets.
She smacked my arm lightly. "Maybe one driver. To fetch snacks."
"I'll take the job," I grinned. "On one condition—snacks include chocolate croissants."
Her laugh spilled into the night, soft and golden, echoing against the stone. That laugh was mine now—I wanted it to be mine always.
"You're so weird," she said, still smiling.
"Me? Never."
We wandered onto a little bridge, the river half-frozen below, lamplight scattering in ripples. She leaned on the railing, hair glowing under the lamps.
I stepped closer. Too close. Close enough to feel her breath, warm in the cold night. Close enough to lose myself. Her eyes locked on mine, wide and steady. Her lips parted. If I leaned in—just an inch—everything would change.
My heart pounded hard. Say it. Kiss her. Tell her she's the one. Then—my phone buzzed. Loud. Sharp. Cruel. I pulled back, frowning at the screen. Mia.
>>>>>
Felicity's POV.
The moment broke. The snow and lights faded into hard, cold reality. My stomach sank. My hands went cold even inside my gloves. Penelope always said storms follow me. Maybe she was right.
He shoved his phone into his pocket. I blinked fast. "I should—we should head back."
Christopher's jaw tightened, but he only nodded. He didn't push. He didn't have to. His silence said it all. But my heart? My heart screamed louder than Mia's name.