It was a miracle, quite frankly, that a November mid-afternoon in Great Lakes City wasn't cursed with bone-chilling wisps of icy air blowing through the streets.

But rather than risk a sleep-inducing opinion/lecture from her best friend's dad about the reason behind the anomaly, Adelaide Chang found it better to just live in the moment and get through the day soaking in as much of the warm atmosphere as she could with Carl Casagrande.

There were at least three things that Adelaide could guarantee almost every time she spent the day hanging out with her best friend; bemusement at his latest money-making scheme, annoyance with his bravado, and the oddest sense of endearment to it all.

As strange as it sounded to her, she just couldn't see herself accepting a Carl Casagrande who wasn't full of himself, brimming with enough gusto to grace a professional wrestling ring. Like most people, she had her limits with him—which would often get exceeded—but she had wanted to become friends with him despite his cocky streak.

And besides, as much of a braggart as he was, he was still an empathetic, imaginative go-getter who was almost always willing to put aside his selfish ambitions for her sake and was more than willing to have fun with her on her level—whether he wanted to admit it or not, he never seemed to mind playing house and getting to be the dad.

But there was even more depth to him than she had realized.

To her delight and surprise, she soon found that Carl wasn't against settling down and enjoying her company by staying relatively still and quiet with one activity—drawing. It was even better as an outside experience, specifically alone on the rooftop of their apartment building—they could get away with funny doodles that they knew their parents wouldn't approve.

There was almost something…therapeutic about lying on her stomach and scribbling wildly about on paper with an assortment of crayons, letting the mind carry the hand through strokes until a masterpiece came to life.

Words were only necessary after they were finished and they both had the chance to be a little smug and proud with from efforts.

And presently, Adelaide's efforts called for a little more blue.

Thankfully, the pile of crayons that laid between them had more than enough shades of it to go around. Carl had always chided her for being so picky enough to have so many in the first place, but she couldn't care less—her light, airy sky called for subtlety and variety.

'Two things he wouldn't know about if they beamed him in the face like a dodgeball,' she joked with a bubbly chuckle slipping through the crack of her faint smile.

Her eyes darted to her left, needing only a fraction of a second to scan the crayon heap and spot the periwinkle one, only an arm's length away.

Assured that she had its exact placement mapped out well in her memory, Adelaide turned her focus back to her drawing as she blindly reached out her left hand to grab her target.

Her palm made contact with…something. Whatever it was, it wasn't a crayon. It was curiously warm, gently baking her flesh through something so familiar and yet…so foreign.

She looked over…

…and froze.

The odd bumps her fingers had pressed into were the knuckles of a human hand.

Carl's hand.

She could feel the simmering burn of a blush rise and splotch her face at the faux pas she had just committed, and yet the sensation of his velvety skin against hers had her affixed, as if invisible threads had sewn her hand in place.

The touch was magnetizing and soothing, yet her stomach hurdled about like a ricocheting pinball. The weather had been pleasant against her body, and yet it felt like all the warmth in her insides had pooled into every inch of where his hand met hers. His fingers felt bigger and sturdier than she would've ever guessed they'd be, and she felt her bones shiver pleasurably at the idea of them softly grasping her hand.

But when Adelaide looked up and her eyes met the gaze her equally befuddled and abashed friend, they both jerked their hands away in an instant and returned their focus back to their art—she was too embarrassed to apologize and from Carl's lack of an apology, so was he.

A minute passed after that.

Then another.

And then another before the crayon in her left hand felt like a hardened stony wax mold of cold indifference. And while that was exactly what it was, compared to the brief but heated touch she had just experienced, she might as well have been sticking her hand in a freezer.

Was touching his hand (as quick as it had been) really that good?

Yes, she readily admitted in her head, another blush threatening to redden her cheeks. And what had made the accident all the better was the implication that he had felt the same way about her touch against his skin.

Otherwise, wouldn't he have pulled away a lot quicker than he did, only doing so when their eyes had met?

…

…

Adelaide felt herself tremble like a leaf against the windy tides of an overcast storm when she knew what she wanted and dared to do something about it—she reached out her arm, palm downward, and placed it back where it had previously been.

She was definitely blushing now, and she was too anxious to look in Carl's direction and gauge his interest.

If there was any.

There was a chance that she was throwing caution to the wind for nothing and was only risking awkward tension between the two from that day on.

But then she tightened herself up, her other hand balled in a fist in a bid to steel her nerves.

She could brave a confrontation with some of the most dangerous animals in the zoo.

She was prepared to fight off a trio of time-traveling Chinese bandits all by herself.

She no longer needed to sleep with a nightlight.

She could handle this. She would handle this.

…

…

At least, for a few minutes.

Her heart whimpered and her face darkened in a downcast sheen when nothing had happened, her hopes for a mutual want between them proving to be nothing but wishful thinking. Adelaide sighed, ready to retract her arm.

Until the smooth surface of a palm suddenly cupped her hand.

Adelaide gasped softly, and the glow of flushed skin dusted over her cheeks again, soon overtaking her entire face. She dared to look over and confirm her suspicions, rather looking ahead at Carl than at what she knew was his hand on top of hers.

Once again, he presented himself as a mirror to her, his bashful, reddened face reflecting her own.

But his smile put her at ease, and she liked to think that hers did the same for him.

They remained in silence for the rest of their time on the roof, words unnecessary. More than that, Adelaide sensed that they would've been harmful—one slip-up in this new but inviting dynamic would've plucked them out of the moment.

Without the use of both hands, drawing had taken both of them a little longer to finish than it normally would've. She didn't mind, though.

And when Carl had started slowly and tenderly drifting his thumb across her knuckles, Adelaide knew he didn't mind, either.