I take in a deep breath as the rich, caramel smell overrides my senses.

Mmmm. Caramel Mocha.

The red light goes dim as the coffee brewer finishes spewing out the last drop in my mug. Thick, white steam rises from the liquid and I find myself eager to take the first sip. I wrap my chilled fingers around the mug, grateful for the warmth it provides. I lean in and take another long whiff. While some college kids are succumbing to the major drugs such as ecstasy, alcohol, and marijuana, I chose to “crumple” under a coffee addiction. Hey, at least it doesn’t have any major side effects.

Taking the mug with me, I climb back into my bed, careful not to spill any of the hot drink. Once settled in, I opened my laptop and un-paused the current rom-com I was watching. I lift the mug to my lips and let the sweet liquid rush down my throat. I moan in euphoria. This is just what I needed on a cold, blizzard night such as this.

I set the mug down on my side table and sigh as I watch my phone light up yet again with another call. I press ignore and turn back to my movie.

Thirty minutes and ten tissues later, I close my laptop and finally reach for my phone. I tap on the screen and purse my lips at the ten unread texts and five missed calls. I unlock my phone and brace myself for the hatred spilling from the words on the screen. Instead, I find only one message from the offender. The other nine are from various friends all wondering if I was okay. One in particular stands out from the rest. I click on the text and smile involuntarily.

DO YOU WANNA BUILD A SNOWMAN?

I let out a small laugh, shaking my head in disbelief. I type out a response and lean back against the wall, waiting for his reply.

Ha. Are you kidding? It’s like -20 out there and snowing!

It’s more like +20. haha.

Still. It’s cold.

Come on, Charlie. Come play in the snow with me.

I don’t know...

Please? I’ll treat to coffee afterwards.

Coffee?

Haha. The only way to get your attention...

Okay. Fine. I’ll meet you outside in 20 min....

Perfect. I’ll be waiting.

I feel my smile widen as I get out of bed. I throw on leggings, a pair of sweats, and three layers of shirts. After knotting my long, chocolate hair at the top of my head, I slide a red, knit headband on, letting it cover my ears. I slip on my rain boots and run over to check myself in the mirror. My cheeks are flushed from the warmth of the room and from slight excitement. I had washed off my make-up earlier, but still find favor in my bright blue eyes, framed by thick, dark lashes. The stupid smile still hasn’t left my face.

As I leave my dorm room, I slip on my pair of gloves. Satisfied with the layers protecting my body from the frigid air, I continue to make my way downstairs. When I reach the exit door, I hesitate, looking out into the night.

It had only been two hours since I last looked outside, but in that short amount of time, almost four inches of snow had fallen to the ground. Everywhere I can see is white with the stuff. The lamp posts lining the sidewalk give off an eerie, yet mysterious glow as the snow continues to fall. I bite my bottom lip and push against the door. A gust of icy wind blows in and I hold back a yelp of surprise. I shuffle outside and let the door swing shut behind me. My breath leaves my lungs as I glance around in awe of the beauty surrounding me.

I normally hate snow with a passion, but for some reason, tonight, with the lamp posts all around me, the snow seems beautiful and peaceful. I find myself smiling with anticipation as I feel snowflakes hit my cheeks.

“Charlie?” I turn towards the voice that is calling my name and find a tall, dark silhouette of a man standing a few feet away. He walks towards my and another grin lights up my face.

It looks as if he hasn’t shaved today; dark scruff shadows his jaw, making him look even more attractive if possible. His dark mass of unruly hair is covered in white snowflakes. He’s dressed in a pair of dark wash jeans, a thick sweater over an oxford, a black coat and a bright red scarf. As he gets nearer, I find myself staring into his liquid, hazel eyes.

“Hey,” I say softly. A ghost of a smile flickers across his face so fast I think I almost imagined it.

“You made it,” is his reply. He doesn’t have to speak the actual words, but I can hear them all the same. How are you? Are you well? Is everything okay?

To answer, I simply nod and give him a sad, wistful smile. His brow furrows slightly as if to say, You sure?

“I just want it to go away,” I whisper to myself, thinking he couldn’t hear. He gently tips my head back so that he can look into my eyes. His gaze is full of love and understanding. I feel the tears start to prick at the back of my eyes and I blink rapidly trying to get rid of them.

“It will,” he murmurs. “He’ll never get away with what he did to you.”

I’m silent for a few minutes, not knowing what to say. Finally, I frown and open my mouth.

“I don’t think I should do this,” I say. At once, I wish to take the words back. His eyes go dim and he immediately distances himself from me. I find myself wanting to reach out to him, but my arms don’t feel like working properly.

“I see.” He begins to turn away and a tear slips out of the corner of my eye. I grab hold of his wrist and tug him back towards me. He turns around, but doesn’t budge from his spot on the walkway. He raises his eyebrows, waiting for me to say something. The snow continues to swirl around us and I feel as if I’ve been placed in a fairy tale.

“You see, I don’t think I should do this. I know I should do this.” I step closer to him until I’m peering up into his eyes. He looks doubtful and I grab a hold of his scarf in one hand. He looks questioningly down to his scarf and then back to me.

“What are you doing?” he whispers raggedly. I swallow loudly.

“I’ve always loved it when guys wear scarves. It makes it easier to do this.” I tilt my head and tug on his scarf, causing his head to move towards mine. Our lips meet and I swear, in that moment, time stops. It is as if every snowflake froze in midair as we kissed. His arms wrap around my waist as mine link around his neck.

When he pulls back, his breath is as ragged as mine. Then, he smiles. And it isn’t another ghost smile, either. It’s one of those sexy, crooked, feel-it-all-the-way-to-your-toes smile. He opens his mouth.

“You taste like caramel.”