"Why are you reading?"
The girl didn't react, not realizing that someone was talking to her. Her eyes fixed on her book, she kept scanning its pages until said someone poked her shoulder.
She jumped, closing the book and with a loud 'snap' and looking up. Of all the people she expected to see (a policeman, a mugger or even her own mother, who was, in fact, supposed to pick her up), a boy was definitely not among them.
A good-looking boy at that. And he was standing right next to her.
He was tall and a bit thin, with hair as white as the snow on the ground, but the most mesmerizing thing about him were his eyes: Icy blue and with a glint in them that could only be described as mischievous. He looked at the closed book in her hands approvingly.
"That's better."
She gaped at him for a few moments. "W-What?"
"It's a snow day," he said simply. "You can't read outside on snow days."
"Um... Says who?" She asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Says me," he answered. "Reading's boring, snowball fights are way better."
She snorted. "If you want a snowball fight, just run over there," she said, pointing at the other side of the park where a group of kids were yelling, throwing handfuls of snow and slipping on the ice. "And let me read in peace," she added, opening her book.
It took all of three seconds for him to start poking her again.
"What is your problem?" she snapped, slapping his hand away.
"You're still reading."
"And?"
"Do you really want to have this conversation again?"
He didn't even flinch when she glared at him, so she kept reading, secretly hoping that he'd go away or, at the very least, stop poking her.
And he didn't poke her.
He grabbed her book and held it high above her head.
"Give it back!"
"Nope." He even had the nerve to grin at her.
Since jumping wasn't going to work, she only had one option. She scooped a handful of snow from the bench she'd been sitting on, quickly shaped it into something resembling a ball and threw it as hard as she could at the boy.
'That'll wipe the smile from your face, you cheeky git.'
He spluttered, wiping the snow away and looked at her in shock. Blue eyes met brown and suddenly he was laughing, laughing so hard he had to wrap his arms around himself.
She felt heat rise to her cheeks. "Why are you laughing?!"
"What... What was that?" he asked, still laughing.
"A snowball..."
"You call that a snowball?"
Her face strongly resembled a tomato at that moment, and she pursed her lips.
The boy straightened up, carefully put the book down on the bench and scooped up some snow. In no time at all, he held a perfect white sphere in his hand.
"This is a snowball," he said smugly.
She rolled her eyes. "Oh, look at you, Mr Perfect. Who cares what a snowball looks like as long as it's round, cold and pa-"
Wham!
She gasped as it hit her forehead and she stumbled backwards. She stared at the boy in shock and he smirked at her.
That did it.
Moments later she'd tackled him to the ground and started smearing his face, jumper and hair with snow. He was quick to follow her example and soon enough the both of them were rolling, yelling and laughing, feeling like they were children.
They were interrupted by the sound of a car stopping a few yards from them. The girl looked up, her cheeks flushed and her red hair full of snow, gave a small squeak of surprise and quickly got to her feet.
"What's wrong?" asked the boy, still lying on the ground.
"It's my mum," she said, trying to sort out her hair. "I've got to go."
"So soon?" He felt a stab of disappointment. It had been a long time since he'd had so much fun with someone and... Well, the girl was pretty, why deny it? He didn't often get the chance to have snowball fights with pretty girls.
She nodded. "Sorry," she said. And she meant it.
When she turned around to leave, the boy called out to her.
"My name's Jack!"
"Janet," she replied, smiling.
And as she walked away, she couldn't help thinking that there was something strange about the boy with the snow-colored hair and icy blue eyes. That she'd met him somewhere before. Jack... She whispered the name, trying to remember.
Jack Frost watched her go, smiling softly. Just as Janet got into the car and disappeared from view, he noticed that she'd left her book. His smile widened when he picked it up.
At least he had an excuse to see her again.