in bold AND italic is a more detailed description of the entire story, not just this chapter

Jack Frost is not a Guardian. Pitch Black hasn't attacked yet.

All I was doing was reading, I swear. But being in my own little world, I nearly trampled over some guy who is in desperate need of a psychologist. Jack Frost is his name. As in THE Jack Frost, the dude I've read about in storybooks for years. And I fall for him. Hard.

But turns out that Jack isn't the only storybook character that actually exists. Pitch Black (the Boogeyman )wants to take over the world, using fear... again. And he strikes. The "Guardians" (North: Santa, Bunnymund: the Easter Bunny, Toothinia: the Tooth Fairy, Sandy: Sandman) gather together to plan their move, and they apparently need Jack. They basically kidnap him, and I follow them. The Guardians don't like me at ALL. They see me as a liability.

Pitch finds out, kidnaps ME, and uses me as bait. But turns out... I'm more than just an innocent human girl... or a bargaining chip.

*Anything in bold, you do NOT have to read... unless you want a recipe for chocolate cupcakes.

I read while I was walking through the secluded area of the park. I was wearing a gazillion layers of clothing, trying to protect myself from the coldness of New York. (I just moved here from Florida two months ago.)

My pure black hair was a curtain from my surrounding vision except for anything directly in front of me. My 100% natural deep purple eyes read furiously, left to right, up to down, ignoring the world around me.

Looking up to make sure I was still on the middle of the sidewalk, with barely enough time, I came to an abrupt halt, 3 inches from crashing into some random dude.

"Omigod! I am SO sorry!" I said automatically.

He had pale-white skin and ice blue eyes. His hair was white, although unnatural for (I'm guessing here) a six-foot-tall, seventeen-year-old guy, it looked natural on him. He had a blue hoodie on (the kind you pull over your head), light brown pants and held a wooden staff thingy. And... he was barefoot. In the winter. In New York... smart guy.

Instead of mumbling an apology, the least I'd expect from him, he frowned. The dude twisted his torso around to look behind him, and when he realized we where the only people, a good, healthy distance from any other civilians, his frown deepened in perplexity.

Well... this is awkward... I thought. It's like he's never seen another human being.

"Are... you okay?" concern swelled my tone.

Shock crossed his face. "You can see me?" His voice sounded like icicles. Delicate, firm, beautiful. The hope in it was crystal clear.

"Well, I'm not blind, if that's what you're asking." I countered, saying it reluctantly. I was internally debating if I should run off in the opposite direction. Right now, "yes" was winning. I mean, I didn't know who guy was. I haven't seen him before. He could be a freaking rapist for all I know!

He scoffed. A grin blossomed on his pale face. He started pacing back and forth, apparently trying to process the fact that most people aren't blind, the way I see it. At this point, "yes" was going to win by a long shot.

Backing away slowly, my heel ready to turn and flee at a moment's notice, I say, "Right... this was a nice little chat, but I gotta go-"

"No! Wait! Please!" He started to reach out for my hand, but stopped midway, as if he realized I was covered in nicotine or something. "I-I'm sorry I freaked you out." His face was full of fear. Fear of me running away? I didn't know. But what I did know his blue eyes were now pleading. "I'm not usually like that. Stay. Please."

I don't know how I could trust a complete stranger. Especially one who is amazed at the fact that people could see him... and apparently doesn't own any shoes... but somehow, I did. My long legs relaxed, I stepped closer to him and stopped at a reasonable distance.

"My name's Jack." he visibly relaxed too. His facial features softened. "Jack Frost."

"Jack Frost?" I asked in disbelief. "As in the spirit who brings winter?"

His eyebrows shot up. "You know who he is?"

"Yeah." I say casually. "He's one of my favorite characters in my books. My name's Alexandria Hale, by the way. But people call me Drew or Lexi... or Andrea... or Xander... or Alex..." I trailed off, standing there in a daze, pondering my long list of possible nicknames. I snapped out of it. "The list is abnormally long, so just pick one."

He smiled, revealing two rows of perfect white teeth. "I like Alex."

I smiled back. "Alex it is. So, Jack Frost," I change the subject. "why are you barefoot?"

He shrugged. "It's not really that cold." he said simply.

"Not really THAT cold!? It's like a hundred degrees below freezing out here!"

"Just ten." he looked at the dried, snow-less grass.

"'Just ten'?! Are you mentally and/or physically stable?" I ask.

He examines my face. "You're not from around here, are you?"

"Islamorada, Key West, Florida." I answered him. "We moved a couple of months ago."

He blew a low whistle. "Wow. You really don't belong in Hudson Valley at this time of year."

I rolled my eyes. "I know."

"So where were you going before I so rudely interrupted your nose in that book and your stroll in the park?" he moved on to the next topic.

I straightened, smiling. "Well, you see there's this charity bake sale tomorrow and I volunteered to make some cupcakes to donate for them."

Jack balanced his weird looking staff-slash-oversized-cane thingy on his shoulder. "I've never had a cupcake." he stated.

"You've never had a cupcake?" I was learning so much about him today. His shrug confirmed my suspicion. What kid hasn't had at least the obligatory cupcake-for-a-classmate's-birthday? "UH-UH!" I exclaim. "Totally not acceptable!"

I snatched his wrist before any there were any visible reactions, and dragged him behind me. "Come on! We are going to the grocery store, we are going to make cupcakes, and I'm going to shove one down your throat if it's last thing I do!"

Jack helped me carry the bags home. It was a simple, small, one story house. It had a cozy living room with a chimney, a hall that led to my bedroom on the left wall, then the only bathroom after that. On the right side of the hall was Dad's bedroom, and then a doorway that led to a kitchen that was to die for! It had a double oven, a small walk in food closet, a fridge, a dishwasher, a stove, a sink, and best of all: an island. The cabinets were light brown and the counter tops where made of black marble. There was no argument about its beauty

"Okay, so now what?" Jack inquired after we put away the groceries .

"Wash your hands." I commanded while I got out all the non-food related items.

He looked at his palms before meeting my gaze with a puzzled expression. "Why?"

I crossed my arms and placed my slim body's weight on my right leg and let my left just limp. "Well, I don't know about you," I said, in an almost snobby voice. "but most people prefer to eat food from a chef with clean hands as opposed to a chef whose hands have been only God-knows-where.

Jack saw that there was no point in arguing, so he did what he was told. But as I joined him to clean my hands, he sprayed me with ice-cold water, as if it wasn't already cold outside... jerk.

I preheated the oven at 350 degrees after I'd changed into a T-shirt and boys' shorts, saying a colorful string of cuss words the entire time.

"Okay, Jack-O-Lantern-" I started.

"Never call me that." he shook his head.

"I like to pour in the dry ingredients first." I ignore his interruption. I place a large mixing bowl in front of him."I always make anything I can out of scratch. This time will be no different." I practically shove a big measuring cup into his hands. "Measure 1 1/3 cups of sugar."

While he's at that, I take the small measuring spoons and add half a teaspoon of salt, 3 teaspoons of baking powder, and one teaspoon of pure vanilla extract to the bowl.

I gave him his next set of instructions. "Two-and-a-half cups of flour, then one cup of milk." I poured half a cup of shortening and three ounces of melted chocolate as he finished.

I handed him a whisk, which he grabbed with is thumb and index finger and examined it as if he's never seen such an odd-looking device (and yet he has a wooden staff).

I sighed and yanked it out of his hands. "This is how it works." I started to beat all of the ingredients together. Jack caught on quick and continued my work for one minute. I cracked two large eggs and made him mix vigorously for three minuets while I placed the liners in the cupcake pans.

"Fill the liners two-thirds of the way and no more." I ordered. "Then place the pans in the oven and set the timer for twenty-three minutes."

"I like your contacts, by the way." Jack said while we cleaned up and waited for the timer to ring.

"They're not contacts." I dismiss the comment automatically. I've actually lost count of how many people said the liked my "contacts" after about 73.

He scoffed. "Please. There's no way such a gorgeous eye color exists naturally."

I froze. My heart skipped a beat. Did he just call my eyes beautiful? My knees went weak and I felt dizzy. And I had no idea why.

"Well, mine does, clearly." I didn't miss a beat. My voice sounded normal, thank God. "My grandmother was half albino and she had red eyes. I inherited that. But I was supposed to have dark blue eyes from my dad's side, too. So, naturally, the blue mixed with the red, giving my irises a dark purple color."

I set the dishwasher on "Normal Cycle" and put the cupcake rack on the middle of the island. When I turned around, Jack was standing right there. He reached out, cupped my pale face, and leaned in.

I felt the heat rise in my cheeks, and no doubt he felt it, too. His white tousled locks fell forward, just above his heart-melting eyes that met my gaze. His face softened, his lips parted.

My heart rate when from normal to a mile a minute in a split second. The smell of the baking cupcakes found its way to us. The sweet aroma was alarmingly romantic.

"You're right." his soft, beautiful voice spoke. "They are natural."

He pulled away, and all six feet of him left the room, leaving me leaning on the the island for support, paralyzed.

I don't know how long I stood there, my thoughts scattered around everywhere, making it hard to pay attention to anything. I barely heard the timer go off.

He was about to kiss me! I finally deciphered something as I took the pans out. No. It looked like he was about to kiss me. He just wanted to get a better look into my eyes, see if I was wearing contacts. Stupid hormones.

I found Jack looking into the display case at the end of the hall. He must've heard me, because he asked, "What's this?"

"My mother's shrine." I replied, keeping my cool.

"Did she... pass away?" he pried.

"Five years ago, when I was twelve." I confirmed. "She was always smiling, my mom. Never once got mad, always understood everything. She saw the world differently. All anyone ever had of her were good memories." A long stretch of silence. "She was a chef, you know. That's why I do it. To feel closer to her. She'd always make things. I've never had a store bought cake. Why would I? Her's were so much better."

I stared at the picture of her wide grin in front of a beautiful scenery. It was a hiking trip we took a long time ago. The three of us.

I hardly noticed when he moved into my bedroom. He picked up the book on my bed, the one I was reading at the park. "Obsidian by Jennifer L. Armentrout." he read aloud.

"It's really good." I snatched my book out of his hands and put back on its holy place on my fully stocked dark brown wooden bookshelf.

He traced the spines of the books on the first shelf. He mumbled, barely audible, "The Spirits..." Then more loudly, "You like Fairy Tales?"

"Fairy Tales, fantasy, supernatural, romance, paranormal... paranormal romance..." I trailed off.

"And you think they're real?"

"Yeah..."

"Why?"

I turned my body so I was standing directly in front of him, tilted my head to look him straight in the eye, and said, "Jack," I loved the way his name sounded on my tongue. "There are wars going on. People get murdered for absolutely no reason. There are starving children in Africa, children who die at the age of five just because they can't get clean water. People are cold. Broke. Homeless. Lost. Alone. What else am I supposed believe in?"

"Aaaaaaaand done!" I finished icing the last cupcake, and stood back, admiring our masterpiece. The frosting on the deserts looked as if it was the handiwork of a professional. I quickly placed the ones I was donating in small plastic bins and the ones for me and my Dad on the racks.

I took two and went to the living room where Jack was waiting on the couch. I handed him a cupcake, sat down, and stared at him like a stalker, anxious for him to try it.

"Look, Alex, I really don't think that a cupcake could taste tha-" his eyes widened after he took a bite. "Oh my God!" he said with a full mouth.

I tossed my long black hair over my shoulder and adopted an arrogant tone. "I know right?"

I set up the movie and then put a blanket over my legs and stared out the window. The trees were bare and the grass was yellow and dried up; there was one crucial thing missing.

"What?" Jack interrupted my train of thought.

"You know it hasn't snowed yet?" I answered. "That was probably the one thing that I was looking forward to about moving. I've only ever seen snow on TV. I've always wondered how it felt like..."

"What movie is this?" Jack changed the subject.

"Abduction."

At one point during the film, a very violent part, out of the corner of my eye, I saw a tall shadowy figure in the shape of a man. His horror-movie like hand reached out to me, its long, bony fingers were inches away from my arm. When I turned to get a better view, it was gone. But perhaps it was just a trick of the light.

READ THIS!

I just wanted to point out that Alex doesn't know Jack's real identity yet.

I'm working hard on Chapter 2 and will get it done and posted as soon as I can. Please please PLEASE give me feedback. I want to be the best author I can and I really want you guys to enjoy my writing. Tell me things you don't like and tell me where and HOW I can improve!

Thank you SO much for spending your time reading this, and I PROMISE I'll try to finish Chapter 2 ASAP!

By the way, this IS my first fanfiction EVER! How'd I do?

P.S. Obsidian by Jennifer Armentrout is a REAL book. I HIGHLY recommend it for anyone who likes romance. You can download it as an e-book or buy it in Barns and Noble or on Amazon.