One Snowy Week in Springhollow

by Lucy Knott

  ‘Yes, I do,’ he says with a dazzling smile.

  ‘Does this mean you’re my boyfriend now?’ I grin, a giggle escaping my lips.

  ‘Do you want me to be your boyfriend?’ he asks, matching my grin.

  ‘Yes, yes, I think I do,’ I reply, confidently this time.

  ‘Well, OK then. I will… wait… why do you always get to be Batman?’ he asks but I ignore his question and tug on his coat to bring him down to my level so I can kiss him. The minute my lips touch his that spark of electricity zips around my body and down to the tips of my toes. His kisses make me feel like the whole world disappears and we’re the only two left. I don’t want to pull away, but a Christmas shopper bumps into me with her giant bags, making me wobble on my tiptoes. Devon steadies me with his arms wrapped around my waist.

  ‘You know, I still haven’t seen this giant tree you’ve been boasting about,’ I say, snuggling into the warmth of his chest. He drops a kiss on top of my head and my toes curl under; I love it when he does that, such a simple but sweet gesture that makes me feel safe and secure. Devon relieves my waist of his hands and moves them to my shoulders, turning me around on the spot. Then he wraps his arms around me and starts walking. It’s a little awkward at first but we soon find a choppy rhythm as he guides me around the bakery and a short distance down the street.

  Laughter and chatter grow louder. I can see golden reflections bouncing off the shop windows and when we make a slight turn to the left Devon is absolutely right: I cannot miss it. Right there next to the giant flags, gold poles, statues and gleaming white ice rink stands the most regal and mighty tree bursting with colour and magic.

  ‘Wow,’ is the only word I can form.

  ‘Right?’ Devon says enthusiastically, squeezing me tighter against his chest.

  ‘Now, what would you say,’ he starts after giving me a few minutes to enjoy the sight before me, ‘to Christmas in New York and New Year’s Eve in Springhollow?’ he asks. I pry my eyes off the gleaming tree sucking me in with its enchanted glow and I turn to him once more.

  ‘I’m supposed to be getting on a plane tomorrow morning,’ I tell him. I can’t possibly afford another night at the hotel and all the cheaper hotels had been fully booked. He quirks an eyebrow at me, like he can read my thoughts, knowing that I really don’t want to leave him. ‘Maybe you could accidently miss the flight and we can have a sleepover at mine instead,’ he suggests. I have no desire to move away from Devon’s arms or our spot in front of the tree anytime soon.

  ‘I think we can make accidently missing my flight happen,’ I say with an intrigued nod.

  ‘I think we can too – we do make an unbeatable team,’ he concurs, smiling down at me. I smile back but then my eyes crease as a little worry flutters over me. ‘I must ring my mum and dad though and let them know as it will be their first Christmas without me, I hope my mum will be OK and I’ll let Hope know in case she needs me; she and Jess usually pop round to escape a bit of the madness at their house and say hello and she’s surprising Jess with a dog. I had wanted to see his face.’

  Devon leans down and kisses me softly on the lips. ‘We can call them right now,’ he says, putting my worries at ease. ‘And we can call them on Christmas Day and make sure you can see Jess’s face.’

  ‘Thank you,’ I tell him, getting lost in his glistening eyes for a few moments. ‘Can we just enjoy this big tree for a while longer and then I can call home? I quite like this new tradition.’ I turn around so my back is now nestled into Devon’s chest, his arms snug around my neck keeping me toasty.

  ‘I think we’re going to create lots more new traditions together,’ he whispers into my ear.

  ‘I think so too,’ I reply, unable to help the wide smile that curves my lips and reaches all the way to my ears, where Devon’s lips just grazed; making me tingle all over. With Devon by my side I don’t feel so terrified of embracing all of me; the me that I have been hiding for so long. It’s time for new adventures, a new job title and a new wardrobe… which might just include a cape.

  24

  Christmas Day saw Devon and I watch as many superhero movies back to back that it was possible to fit into one day, with a break around midday to pop over to his parents to exchange gifts and wish them a merry Christmas; which wasn’t without the customary inquest as to what I was doing with my life, my plans for the future and the critical once-over of my mustard-coloured beanie-clad head. It seemed twenty-six-year-old me wasn’t any better off than sixteen-year-old me in their eyes, but some things never change, I guess, and I kept a smile on my face as we tucked into the mince pies that I had bought at a World Market Devon had taken me to. I couldn’t quite tell if Devon’s parents cared for or missed the British tradition, but it had made Devon smile.

  As he had gotten older, he often visited the shop when he was homesick. We hadn’t stayed long at his parents’; Devon having spent the last few Christmases with friends and therefore having an excuse to leave before Devon’s mum started berating me about my desire to fill the brains of both children and adults alike with mutants, time travel and bizarre creatures from fake planets. Devon had told his friends that for Christmas this year he would be spending the day at home and had arranged to meet up a few days later. So, the two of us had spent the evening video-chatting with my family and exchanging gifts. Devon surprised me with a new pencil case and a set of beautiful, sharp, crisp pencils, an awesome beanie and a jumper all emblazoned with his superhero logo and or face on them. I had laughed so hard I had cried but they have to be my most favourite gifts I have ever received.

  In turn I had surprised Devon with a framed sketch I had done of him suited and booted in his spandex but instead of the original backdrop of his movie poster, I had replaced it with Springhollow and a shadow of him as a kid. He had also cried. Christmas Day had been truly magical.

  Boxing Day followed with ice-skating in Central Park, a visit to Devon’s favourite skatepark and Christmas cupcakes for dinner. I stayed in New York a total of eight days and, though I loved exploring the city and going on a tour of Devon’s old school, theatre club and where he had his first audition, my favourite place had to be his small apartment in Brooklyn. Dotted around the walls were comic book posters that he had had framed and, to my surprise, upon initially stepping foot inside his place, drawings I had done as a child were hung up next to the greats. It made me feel like I could be someone and had taken my breath away that Devon had taken such care with them.

  Whereas I had shoved all my childhood memorabilia in boxes, Devon’s action figures took pride of place on a few sparse shelves in the living room and his comics littered the coffee table next to scripts that he was looking at. The apartment was colourful if not a little cold. There was a small fibre optic tree in the corner, but it was missing something; I just couldn’t put my finger on it yet. We met up with a few of his close friends for dinner one evening, which was lovely. It sure was a whole lot easier not hiding who I was, especially when Devon’s friends were that of the nerdy kind too.

  The night flew by as I joined in with movie trivia and games, grateful for Hope and Jess and their conversations over the years, and mine and Devon’s movie marathon, getting me through the tougher pop culture quizzes of today. The whole trip had been wonderful and inspiring and made my decision about attending the art school in the New Year that much clearer.

  I’m now sat at our corner table in the village pub, Devon by my side and Mum, Dad, Hope and Jess also snuggled into the booth. Not to forget little Orion curled up at Hope’s feet. The gorgeous baby St Bernard took a liking to Hope from the get-go and she’s totally smitten. The look on Jess’s face on Christmas Day had been priceless and I think he’s now more in love with Hope than he was before, if that’s even possible. I’m wearing my high-waisted denim flares with a festive Thor jumper, which my mum has only looked at disapprovingly twice tonight, but baby steps; I know change takes time.

  As the clock ticks down to midnight and I glance over at
Devon, the kid inside me is bursting with excitement and joy for the year ahead. I don’t wish to silence her anymore or make her feel silly about where her passions lie. She knew from an early age what she wanted to do, who she wanted to be; I just needed to trust her and listen to her. I like thinking like Scarlett.

  I’ve written down a list of agencies and publishing houses and tomorrow will be taking my first giant leap in submitting my ideas and drawings to them. Suddenly my skillset and dreams don’t feel so inadequate when I stop comparing myself to others or letting the world dictate what a twenty-six-year-old woman should look like. I can’t wait to spread magic and encourage the imaginations of all who pick up my stories and to share a piece of myself with those who pick up The Village Gazette. Yes, Hope got the go-ahead on Christmas Eve and I can now honestly say I love my job. I hope my drawings and everyone’s brilliant passions and ideas will be enough to make the January issue truly special so we can keep our magazine running because I am actually looking forward to going back to work on January 3rd.

  The countdown gets more raucous. Glasses are raised into the air, champagne sloshing around and tipping over the edges, as we all stand to greet the New Year. As soon as the clock strikes twelve Devon’s lips are on mine and I can hear the hollers and cheers in the background as I sink into his kiss. When he moves away, only but an inch, his eyes still trained on mine with that disarming smile on his ridiculously handsome, grown-up face, an actual giggle escapes my lips.

  ‘You know I think this New Year might just beat that New Year we snuck out of bed while your parents were busy hosting that party and we watched the fireworks from our “treehouse” in the park.’ Devon uses air quotes when he says “treehouse” for it wasn’t a treehouse like you might picture it, meaning there was no actual structure nor house but merely a flat surface area where a few branches connected that were big enough for the two of us to fit in when we were ten.

  ‘Hmm, how so? If I remember correctly those fireworks were pretty spectacular,’ I reply, staring straight into his eyes, which shine brighter than any firework display and which grow more spectacular when Devon wrinkles his nose and his grin grows wider making them sparkle and beam with mischief.

  ‘Well, back then I didn’t get to do this.’ And he kisses me again with his hand on my waist, pulling me close, closing the distance between us for the last ten years and cementing the bond that had never truly gone away.

  Not long after the New Year chimes, Devon and I say our goodbyes to everyone at the pub and race each other across the square. It’s safe to say I’ve not felt this free and happy in my hometown in ten years. My Thor jumper is keeping the frosty nip at bay as is the merry amount of gin I have consumed, not too much, but enough so I’m not concerned with the childlike glee etched on my face or how our childhood games might look to other people. I have my arms out at my sides like Falcon about to soar into the grey night sky and Devon with his long legs is leaping ahead singing Christmas songs.

  I jangle about with my keys when we reach my step as we are both panting and inhaling the crispy air. I make a mental note that milk is the superior drink for superheroes and not alcohol as a stitch creeps into my side. Once through the door we shed our scarves, jackets and beanies and make a beeline for the couch. I had left the tree lights on, so the room is under a soft Christmassy glow before I add to it the low light of my lamp. We’re both about to sit down when I notice something under the tree. Devon stops beside me, seemingly noticing it too. That’s when I register a card on the coffee table that wasn’t there before. I pick it up as Devon stares at the tree.

  I thought I’d hold on to this. I had a feeling one day you might need it again.

  Love you always,

  Dad xx

  As I get to the end of the note Devon lets out a squeal and dives on to his/my Spider-Man bean bag, while I try not to choke up over my dad’s words and his thoughtfulness after all these years. I can’t believe he had kept it. I had given him a key to my house while I was away to look after Ed and he most definitely scored points for using it well. He must have snuck in on his way to the pub; we had gotten there before them.

  ‘Now that’s more like it,’ Devon comments, looking relaxed and comfortable on his Spidey spot.

  ‘Oh yeah.’ I chuckle and quirk an eyebrow, already sensing what he means.

  ‘Yes,’ he says with a wink. ‘I love this place, but it needs some comic books,’ Devon adds, looking around like in his head he is redecorating.

  ‘Hmm, is that so,’ I start, hands on my hips, looking over the pretty pink walls and plenty of colourful throws and furniture. Then I look back to Devon and have to laugh at how much he has grown since he last sat on the bean bag. Now he barely fits; there’s just enough space for his peachy bum. ‘Well then, I think you missed one thing off my Christmas list,’ I say, making Devon’s eyebrows crease and nose crinkle with curiosity. He’s leaning to one side on the bean bag, propped up on an elbow, hands clasped, which makes his biceps pop. He looks all sorts of nerdy and sexy and he’s underneath my tree. I clear my throat, nearly losing my train of thought.

  ‘I’m going to need a cardboard cut-out, like a life-size one of this really awesome superhero who’s recently taken the world by storm; he wears a white cape, with gold boots. He’s quite the charmer with dashing good looks and I think he would fit perfectly into my space and add just the right amount of colour against the pink. Do you like the pink?’ I say, confidently, hands still on my hips, thinking I’m going to need more pictures of Devon around this place when he must fly away to go and shoot all his movies and, you know, live in his New York apartment. We hadn’t got around to discussing how exactly our new relationship was going to work, but I am keeping tonight’s tone light as one thing I was sure of was that we would figure it out together, in time.

  ‘You know, I really don’t think you need a cardboard cut-out and yes, yes I like pink,’ Devon replies before gently grabbing my wrist and pulling me into his lap, his cheeks a little flushed. I can hear more beans scatter and squeak under our weight and fear for our beloved Spidey bean bag.

  ‘And why not?’ I say, regarding the cardboard cut-out and give him a playful pouty look, our faces inches from each other’s.

  ‘Because why would you want cardboard when you have the real thing?’ he questions, tracing his fingers along my cheek, making them flame under his touch.

  ‘But you have an apartment in New York, you live in New York – you won’t always be here,’ I say, my voice now more of a whisper.

  ‘About that… did you like the New York apartment?’ Devon asks, and well if I can be so bold as to tell him my thoughts like he has shared with me about my home, I reply truthfully, ‘It was cold. I mean it was nice and I liked that you had all the posters and our childhood stuff, but it was missing something.’ I move my hand over the hem of his white cotton tee. A moment of silence passes.

  ‘You, Scar. It was missing you. It’s never felt like home. You are my home,’ he breathes, his voice but a whisper, his lips brushing against my ear. The electric current is back and coursing through my veins.

  ‘So, what you’re saying is, that you would like to move in with me,’ I whisper into D’s ear. He laughs into mine, a laugh that makes my stomach volt a rail, it’s so full of warmth and joy.

  I move away so our cheeks are no longer touching so I can look my best friend in the eyes. My hand rests against his jaw, his hand moves to my thigh to keep me steady and balancing on his lap.

  ‘I’ve missed you,’ he says when our eyes meet. ‘We have a million adventures to catch up on, thousands of forts to make up for and hundreds of pancake breakfasts to compensate for. You are home for me, Scar,’ he adds, making me feel a little breathless.

  I can feel the smile tugging at the corners of my lips. I wrap my arms around his neck. ‘But won’t you need to be in New York for work?’ I can’t help but query.

  ‘I can travel and there’s no rush in selling the apartment. I hear someon
e might need it next summer anyway?’ Devon says with an encouraging, bright smile.

  I wriggle on his lap so that I can wrap my legs around him and stretch them out. ‘I think that sounds like a plan, Superman,’ I say, rhyming with happiness.

  ‘I thought we were Batman and Robin?’ Devon says with a grin.

  ‘Right now, I’m feeling more like Superman and Lois Lane,’ I note, pulling Devon close so are lips are nearly touching.

  ‘Ahh, but do you know who I think my favourite duo of all time are?’ he replies, his lips tickling mine.

  ‘Who?’ I ask.

  ‘Me and you,’ he answers, giving me the cheekiest and cheesiest grin. But it works, with those words I kiss him under the glowing lights of the Christmas tree while atop our Spider-Man bean bag and I feel like this time I’ve taken a leap and I’m doing it: I’m really flying.

  Acknowledgements

  I would like to say a massive thank you to Hannah Smith and the Aria fiction team for giving me this opportunity. I feel like I always have to pinch myself and will forever be grateful for this dream come true. Hannah, I am beyond thankful to be working with you again and for your belief in me, it means the world. I love bringing my stories to life with you and making them the best they can be, you are amazing. A massive thank you to Vicky Joss too for organizing my blog tour and for all the lovely social media posts and fun media stuff you do, you are awesome. Also, to the design team at Aria for creating the most beautiful, festive cover that makes me smile every time I look at it, you are incredible. Thank you, Helena Newton, for catching me when I decide to make up words, it has been lovely to work with you again on this book and I appreciate all you do.

  To every single person who has picked up my books, messaged, reviewed, tweeted or shared my stories, I thank you from the bottom of my heart. Readers, book bloggers, friends, family and strangers a like, you are truly awesome in every way, please know how much I appreciate you.