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Jameson Winchester Hawthorne
The snow capped mountains overlooked the woods, standing there as though the protecter of the forest. The pine trees stood tall and proud surrounding the wood cabin, their emerald tips dusted by white, the view was nothing short of mezmerising.
But Jameson’s eyes were neither on the pines nor the mountains, it was on the brown-eyed girl running through the snow, in her thick three layers of clothes and a mess of brown hair trying to fight it’s way out of her snow cap. Her nose and cheek flushed a baby pink, somehow making her more beautiful.
The happiness in her eyes almost took Jameson out.
“Like it, heiress?” He asked, his tone hopeful and warm.
“Like it? Oh, Jamie I absolutely love ittt!” She says dragging the last word out, “Thank you so much Jamie!!” She continues, turning to face him. Her face so radiant with joy that he knew this was where the sun was hiding.
She ran the small distance between them, nearly knocking over both of them as she slammed into his arms.
“Careful heiress, you don’t want our vacation to end in a concussion,” He says laughing into her hair, breathing her in as he buried his face in the crook of her neck.
“Huh, look who’s finally the responsible one” She teases, pulling back to meet his eye. Her face—still lit up.
“Honestly, heiress, it should be illegal to have such a beautiful smile…..enough to bring a grown man to his knees” He murmurs, pressing a kiss to her cold nose.
She shivers at this, a small blush creeping up on her cheeks. Damnit…so, so, so pretty.
She looks up again, brown meeting emerald—breaking every last bit of self control he ever had. He moved forward, capturing her lips with his, sending fireworks exploding through his body.
“I love you so much, Avery,” He says, his voice filled with a sincerity that he didn’t know he had.
“I love you too, Jamie,” She says, looking into his eyes and he could swear that he could see the sun, the moon, the stars—every last beautiful thing—in those big brown eyes.
“Too bad, that won’t help you win the snowball fight!” She completes, running a few feet away and rolling a bit of snow into a perfect ball.
Before he could process what she just said—smack!—the first ball found its mark.
“Oi! That’s cheating heiress!” He yelled.
“You call that cheating, Well, I call that strategy! It’s all about perspective, Jameson!” She yells back, her laughter echoing through the air.
Before he could reply, another snowball whizzed towards him—but this time he was prepared. He lunged down, dodging the ball with easiness, a smirk growing on his lips.
“Payback’s coming, heiress! Expect no mercy!” He shouted back, releasing his own snowball into the cold air.
Smack! It slammed into Avery’s shoulders.
“Damn, you’re good at this,” she says, a hint of awe in her voice.
“Well, I’m a Hawthorne” He says, shrugging his shoulders, trying to appear effortless. But to his surprise—smack!—Her ball hit him.
“Hey! You hypnotised me with praise!” He says protesting.
“2-1! All is fair in love and war, Jamie!”
“Alright heiress! You asked for this!” He says, brushing the snow off his coat.
Avery turned, her eyes glinting with mischief, “Catch me if you can!” She yells back, sprinting onto the snow covered paths.
He grinned, pushing his legs forward in one swift motion. Within seconds he was on her, the soft crunches of snow under their boots became secondary to their laughter.
Avery cut through the trees, laughing breathlessly as she rolled another snowball, swinging it over her shoulders and smack! It found his shoulders.
“3-1 Jamie! You’re really losing your touch!” She teased.
But this time Jameson’s hand found her waist, lifting her off the ground and spinning her around in the air, laugher bubbling through them as the snowflakes fell off their bodies like confetti.
“Happy three years, heiress,” He says, as he put her back to ground, their head locked and nose touching.
“Happy three years, Jamie,” She says, her voice soft and full of trust, love and sincerity.
“Your face is cold, heiress, should we head inside and sit besides the fireplace?” He asks,
“Ouch. I thought you’d say my face is hot,” she says, dramatically beating her hand to her chest, “But yes, I do feel a bit cold, let’s set up the fire,” She added, pecking his bottom lip teasingly.
“You have the hottest face, heiress. Hell—even the sun is colder than you,” He says, a grin growing on his face.
“Even in three layers of clothing, panting and with a messed up hair?” She teased.
“Yes, heiress. Especially then, when you’re so happy, that you have that contagious smile on your face.”
She was now a shade of beet-red—and trying to hide it by wrapping the scarf more tightly around her neck.
“Alright, you’re now so cold that you’re beet-red, heiress. No more teasing, let’s get inside.” He says, sparing her the teasing.
Almost every inch of the cozy cabin was covered with wood. A small fireplace stood at the far corner of the living room, disturbing the quite with it’s crackling. With a click, the lock opened, laughter filled the air, a pair of footsteps stepping into the threshold.
“Can I take your coat, m’lady?” He asks, regally.
“Yes, please, my fair knight in shining armour!” She replies, equally regal.
He took his coat and hers—well, coats actually—and hung them onto the coat hanger. Her footsteps slowly faded as she moved towards the end of the room, warming her hand in-front of the fire.
“C’mere,” She says, patting the space besides her on the couch.
“Are we watching a movie, heiress?” He asks, a grin on his face—and a movie in mind.
“Yes—and you’ll choose the movie while I make popcorn?”
“You got it, heiress!”
One popcorn trip and a pajama change later:
“Home alone?” She asks, with a smirk on her face and popcorn in her hands.
“In the middle of October? You bad boy!”
Half an hour—and one quick trip to Paris for Kevin’s parents—later, Jameson found himself with a severely exhausted girlfriend asleep on his shoulders and a half filled tub of popcorn.
He gently slipped out of his place on the couch, careful not wake up Avery, and scooped her up in his arms, gently carrying his fast asleep girlfriend in his arms to the bed.
Girlfriend.
Three years. Three years since that day on the railing—and the best three years of his life. He still couldn’t believe that she’d loved him, chose him.
God! He loved this girl so much!
He moved towards the bed, softly laying her down and pulling the comforter over her body, tucking away that one stray strand hair.
More than anything in his life, he was most grateful that she was still here with him, after all the attempts on her life in the last three years, it was a miracle that she was still alive. And if there’s one thing he knows it’s that this is a miracle he’d pray for.
That there isn’t a single god whom he won’t beg for this.
That there isn’t a life for him, without her by his side.
She is, was and will be his whole world. That’s for always.
Now, today, tomorrow.
Till the end of time.