When Hamilton awoke late the next morning, Jake wasn't in the room. He got up
and went to the door, but as he put his hand on the knob, he looked down.
The index card was lying facedown on the carpet. Hamilton couldn't know if that
was from his mother peeking in during the night, or just from Jake leaving. But
as he looked at it lying there, he decided he didn't care. Disgusted, he bent
and picked it up, ripped it in half, and tossed it in the trash basket.
His bathroom door was closed when he walked by, so he knew where Jake was. He
tromped down the stairs and passed his mother in the living room. She called to
him, but he grumbled a reply and continued on to the kitchen. She followed him.
"I got donuts," Kate said. Hamilton walked over to the box on the table and
picked one out. "'Thanks, Mom,'" she added in response to his silence.
"Thanks, Mom," he said.
She poured him some juice, then began, "I talked to Finn."
"You invited him for dinner?"
"Yes, but he probably won't be able to make it." She paused, then took a deep
breath before she continued. "He told me that you did OK on the English Lit
final."
"Yeah?"
"You know 'OK' won't be good enough for your father."
"Of course not. We can't have the Dean's son failing to shine. It might make him
look bad."
"It's not that, Hamilton. He wants you to learn. If he didn't have a passion for
education, we wouldn't be here. But this isn't about your father. What's going
on with you, Hamilton? It's not like you to slack off. You've always been
conscientious about your studies. Summer session was supposed to help you with
the transition to normal classes, although I guess English out on the lake isn't
exactly a normal class."
"I don't have a problem with my classes."
"Then what is it? Why can't you finish your reading assignments?"
"God, you act like I'm the only kid on the planet who's ever not gotten his
homework done."
Before Kate could say anything else, Jake walked into the kitchen.
"Hey," she said as she spied Hamilton.
"Good morning, Jake," Kate greeted. "Would you like a donut?"
"No, thanks. Maybe just some juice." She wasn't feeling particularly hungry,
which was a good thing. She'd weighed herself on the bathroom scale and didn't
like what she saw. She had enough trouble trying to keep a boy's figure without
gaining weight over the holidays.
Kate poured juice for Jake and then walked over to add some more to Hamilton's
glass. She laid a hand on his shoulder and told him, in a less accusing tone, "I
guess it's hard for me not knowing how you're doing, having to hear about it
from other teachers. Maybe I'm a little jealous of them. I liked it when I had
you all to myself."
Hamilton looked up to see the soft smile his mother gave him. But out of the
corner of his eye, he caught the pained expression on Jake's face. Something had
hurt her.
"I'll be right back," Jake gulped, and walked quickly out of the room.
* * * * *
Jake ran into Hamilton's bedroom and closed the door. She was desperate to hold
back the tears. For five months she'd managed to avoid breaking down in front of
him, and she didn't want to start now. She realized he might come up after her,
so she figured she'd be better off in the bathroom, but before she could get to
the door, Hamilton opened it and walked in.
"Jake, what's the matter?"
She was at a loss for words. It wasn't what he thought, and she figured he
wouldn't get it. There was no way she could make him understand, no way that
someone with a mother who was so loving and attentive could possibly fathom what
it was to be the daughter of Monica Pratt. Jake sat down on the bed, her back to
the door.
"Listen," Hamilton said, wringing his hands, "I'm sorry I was such an asshole
last night."
"It's not that, Hamilton."
"Did I do something else?"
"It's not you. Not directly. You can't help being loved."
"Ahhh... Is this about your mom?"
Jake was quiet. She closed her eyes and reminded herself that this wasn't a big
surprise. Her excitement for Christmas break had dwindled over the years as
she'd had less and less time with her mother, just a couple days usually. But at
least Monica had always been there. It was inevitable, Jake supposed, that
eventually she would skip it altogether. And maybe Jake could have handled it
had it not come during such a confusing and difficult year, when she was living
a lie in order to hold on to the one thing that wouldn't let go of her.
Without another word, Hamilton sat down next to her on the bed and cautiously
reached out an arm around her shoulders. She still looked down at her lap. They
sat like that for a moment, then Hamilton threw caution to the wind and pulled
her to him in a tight hug. There were times when he knew that nothing he could
say would comfort her, but holding her tight almost always worked. "I'm sorry,"
he whispered. "I forgot how hard this must be for you."
She hugged him back, barely holding back the tears that stung her eyes. But she
pushed away from him after a moment, knowing that they might not be alone for
long.
He looked at her face and ran his thumb under her watery eyes. "Talk to me," he
insisted.
"I guess it's... I've gotten used to not seeing my mom very often. But Christmas
was always the one time of year when I knew I she would be there. She could
ignore me for the rest of the year, but the one time I could count on her was
Christmas."
"It wasn't her choice. You know she wanted to see you."
"Yeah, right. That's why she blew me off so easily. If she loved me--"
"Of course she loves you. I know she does."
"How do you know?"
"Because how could anyone know you and not love you?"
"But that's the whole point. She doesn't know me."
Hamilton didn't have a response to that. His relationship with Jake, her coming
to Rawley, was all because she was trying to drive home that very point to her
mother.
Hamilton realized he would have to resort to distraction tactics. "You know, it
snowed again last night," he said after a moment. "There're huge drifts all
over."
"Yeah?"
"How about we eat some breakfast and then go build a snowman?"
"That sounds doable. But are you going to start a snowball fight so you have
another excuse to jump me?"
"No."
"Oh... That's too bad."
Hamilton raised an eyebrow and stared at her. "You are a most confusing girl,
Jake."
* * * * *
They spent the better part of the afternoon building the snowman. He was nice
and plump, thanks to the thick and sticky snow. Jake decided that, in Finn's
honor, they would name him Shakespeare. Kate gave them a carrot for his nose,
buttons for his eyes, and red candies to make him a big smile. Hamilton brought
out a scarf and a large ski cap for him.
"You can't put a ratty knit cap on him," Jake objected. "A snowman is supposed
to wear a top hat, like Frosty."
Hamilton shrugged. "He can be a grunge snowman."
"Grunge is so over."
"Hey, I'm not the one who wears the plaid flannel shirts." He looked over at her
and smirked, then turned back to his snowman.
Jake scooped up some snow and began shaping it in her hands. Before she even
realized it, she had a perfect snowball. She looked at Hamilton, who was
carefully fitting Shakespeare with twig arms. She had an easy shot. Too easy.
But she couldn't resist.
She hurled the snowball at Hamilton and caught him in the back of the head.
"Hey!" he yelped. Taken completely by surprise, he turned to her and smiled
knowingly. "Jake, are you starting a snowball fight?"
Her only answer was a big grin. She immediately bent down to scoop up more snow,
and Hamilton followed suit. An icy melee ensued. Poor Shakespeare was caught in
the middle and soon lost three teeth and his right eye.
Jake found it wasn't easy wading through the thick snow, especially while being
pelted with snowballs by Hamilton. As she tried to run and bend down to pick up
more snow at the same time, she eventually tripped up and pitched forward into a
snowdrift. She turned over to find Hamilton standing right over her.
"Is this the part where you jump me?" she asked breathlessly.
"No," he replied. He flopped down on his back next to her. "This is the part
where we make snow angels." He started waving his arms up and down. Jake laughed
and started to do the same.
Hamilton finished his, then sat up and leaned over her, gazing down at her
bright, dark eyes and ruddy cheeks ripened by the cold.
Jake noted with surprise that he looked like he might kiss her. "Hamilton, we're
in your front yard. Your parents could be looking out the window."
"OK, so I won't kiss you." But he continued to leer, and after a moment his
lusty smile once again curled his lips. "But I'm very much wanting to kiss you.
I'm thinking about kissing you."
He hovered above her, his lips puffy red from the cold and incredibly kissable.
"Yeah?" Jake knew what he was doing, and it was working. She was very aroused.
"I'm thinking about sliding my tongue behind your upper lip, along your
teeth..."
"Oh my God," Jake gasped. "This is like having phone sex from two feet away."
"I'm thinking about putting my lips on that little spot on your neck, you know
the one I'm talking about. Then opening my lips and letting my tongue dance its
way into that spot, then nibbling with my teeth ever so softly. And you start
writhing up and down like you do when my mouth goes there, and I have to put my
hand on your hip to hold you down."
"Stop!" Jake cried, a shiver running though her. She didn't want to explode in
the Flemings' front yard.
Hamilton smiled and asked, "What are *you* thinking?"
"I'm thinking we need to get up to your room so we can finish this conversation
in a less theoretical way."
"Nope!" Hamilton said, jumping up to his feet.
"What?!"
"I want you to suffer the agony of unfulfilled expectations."
"Oh, come on --"
"Turned on?"
"Very."
"Then you need a cold shower." He scooped up a wad of snow and dropped it on her
face.
"Ahh!" she cried, snow falling into her mouth.
Hamilton laughed and then bolted away. Jake jumped to her feet and wiped the
snow off her face as she chased after him all the way across the yard to the
main quad.
"Hamilton!"
He turned and yelled over his shoulder, "You think you can catch me?"
She didn't stand a chance. Not only was he stronger and faster than she was, but
he was also apparently more adept at running through snow. He disappeared around
the side of the dining hall, and when she finally rounded the corner he slowed
and let her catch him. Now they were safely out of view from his parents. She
grabbed him and pushed him back against the wall. She leaned toward him, but he
turned his face away, smiling evilly.
"One kiss, Hamilton," she begged.
"No, I don't think so."
"Oh, God, please. Please!" She tried to catch his lips with her own, but he kept
turning his face the other way, dodging.
Finally, with a sigh of frustration, she gave up, and only then did he look
straight at her. He took off one of his gloves and put his hand on her face,
stroking her cheek gently with his naked fingers. It sent a tremor through her,
and every cell in her body started tingling.
"I love you," he whispered, his blue eyes boring into her, injecting her with
heat. She was warm everywhere, melting into the snow. She leaned into him one
last time, closed her eyes. Her lips were just touching his...
"Psych!" Hamilton yelled as he ducked away, then ran back toward the quad.
Jake could only lean against the wall, trying to calm herself. She realized
that, as was the saying, turnabout was fair play. And since she was making him
wait, and he had no idea why, maybe she should be strong and stick to the plan.
Collecting herself, she turned around the corner.
And there he was, leaning against the wall, waiting for her.
She debated giving him an apology for playing so hot and cold. But before she
could say anything, he grabbed her arm and pulled her toward him. This time, she
waited for him to bring his lips to hers, which he did. He grasped her head in
his hands and kissed her deeply, passionately, his soft lips enveloping her, his
tongue meeting her own and then flickering over her lips and teeth. She grabbed
at him, lacing her fingers into his hair. The cold afternoon disappeared, and
they were lost in warmth.
It was over all too quickly. Jake took a moment to catch her breath.
"Hamilton, you don't have to --"
"Don't have to kiss you? Did you seriously think I didn't want to? God, I wish
that were true." He peered at her intently. "I know I said I wasn't going to
push things with us, Jake. But I don't think you realize how crazy you make me.
What you do to me. Every time you kiss me like that, Jake. Every single time."
He pulled her closer and pressed his pelvis against hers to show her. "You can
play the boy all you like, but at the end of the day, you don't have one of
these, and you don't know how it feels."
"Actually, I'm kind of feeling it right now."
Suddenly, Hamilton pushed her away. "Oh, shit!" he cried. He was looking past
her now, across the quad.
Jake turned and looked toward Hamilton's house, where a car was pulling into the
driveway.
"That's my mom," he said. They watched Kate get out of the car and pull out a
bag of groceries.
"Do you think she saw us?"
Hamilton quickly stepped away from Jake. "I don't know."
Kate looked around, searching the yard, and then she definitely did see them.
She waved and pointed to the groceries.
"I think she wants some help," Jake said.
Hamilton nodded, and they headed toward the driveway.
* * * * *
Kate was her normal cheerful self as they carried groceries into the house, so
Hamilton relaxed a bit. But dinner was still awkward, and he avoided making eye
contact with either Jake or his mother. This left only his father, whom he
normally tried to avoid anyway, so Hamilton excused himself from the table as
quickly as possible.
After dinner, they settled in the living room to watch another movie. Hamilton
took an armchair off to the side and left the couch to Jake. But as it was his
fourth viewing of 'The Matrix,' he failed to lose himself in it, and Jake could
see how distracted he was. She picked up the remote control and shut the TV off.
"Do you want to go for a walk?" she asked.
For a moment he didn't say anything but just stared at the blank TV screen, and
Jake thought he might turn her down. But finally he said, "Yeah, let's go for a
walk."
Outside, the moonlight shimmered over the snow. Jake and Hamilton, hands in
their pockets, walked silently away from the house and down the plowed empty
road. The wind had picked up, and it burned their ears with the cold as it
stirred up the snowdrifts around them. The silence was broken when they both
spoke at once.
"Are you mad at me?" they asked simultaneously. Startled, they looked at each
other and then laughed softly.
"You first," Jake said.
Hamilton's face turned pensive again. He looked down and kicked at a chunk of
ice in the road. "Of course I'm not mad at you, Jake. I'm just..."
"Confused?"
"Yeah. I mean, I'm not confused about how I feel. About you. I know that I love
you." He looked up at her quickly, as if just realizing that he should look at
her when he said it.
"And you know that I love you, too, right?" Jake probed.
"I guess. But there's loving and then there's... wanting."
"Wanting... sex?"
"You don't have a moral problem with it, right?"
"Right."
"And your mom essentially gave you her blessing."
"Oh, like that has anything to do with anything."
"But what I mean is, she doesn't think we're too young."
"I don't think we're too young, either, Hamilton. I used to, but now... I don't
think doing it with you would ever be wrong."
"So then I have to assume you're just not interested."
"Not interested? Oh, my God. I think about sex all the time, Hamilton. And trust
me, I want it. What do I have to do to make you realize that? Just because I
don't talk about it constantly and thrust my pelvis at you to--"
"Mm, I *wish* you talked about it constantly and thrust your--"
"Yeah, yeah," she cut him off. "Seriously, I don't know what made you think I
don't want you every bit as much as you want me."
"Hmm, let's see. I guess it's because I keep wanting to have sex with you, and
you keep saying no."
"Twice, Hamilton. That happened twice. And both times I had the same reason. I
want it to be special. I don't want it to be a rush job because Will or Scout or
some teacher or even your father could walk in on us. I want it to be safe, in
more ways than one. And I don't want it to be when one of us has to get up and
go home afterwards."
"That's it? You want me to spend the night with you? Baby, that's what we've got
right now."
"I know. But you have to accept that I'm neurotic, and I needed to know that
that index card stayed up all night."
"But wait... did it?"
Jake hesitated, her dark eyes glowing in the silvery moonlight. Then she nodded.
"Yes."
Hamilton stopped walking and turned to face her. "So what are you saying?"
"I'm saying... it's freezing out here. Let's go inside and warm up."
Hamilton exhaled slowly, almost whistling. Then he pulled her into his arms and
pressed his warm lips against her cold forehead. "I know what will warm you up,"
he whispered.
* * * * *
But instead of taking her up to his bedroom, he led her into the kitchen. Kate
was there, pouring a glass of water.
"What are you boys doing out in the cold this time of night? Not plotting
another prank, are you?"
Jake and Hamilton looked at each other, then turned and gawked at Kate.
She smiled and raised an eyebrow at her son. "Oh, get over yourself, Hamilton.
Did you really think I couldn't tell that was you? I watched it. I'd recognize
my son's artistry anywhere."
"You didn't tell Dad, did you?"
"Of course not. You know your father lacks any --"
"Imagination or sense of humor?"
"I was going to say 'flexibility about breaking the rules,' but you get the
idea. Besides, without any proof, he'd never get a conviction. So you're spared
the grounding, this time. But next time..."
"Yeah?"
"Lose the heavy metal music. It was all wrong. And could you try doing something
with real paint and pencils? Those computer art programs are going to put me out
of business." She gave Jake a pointed look.
"OK, Mom." Hamilton smiled and started taking off his coat.
"All right, guys, I'm off to bed. You want me to build a fire first, so you can
warm up?"
"Nah, I'm gonna make us some hot chocolate."
"OK, good night," Kate called as she walked though the door to the stairs.
"Good night, Mom."
"Good night, Mrs. Fleming."
Hamilton went to the cupboard and looked inside.
"You're really making hot chocolate?" Jake asked.
"I told you I had something that'd warm you up." He pulled out two packets of
Swiss Miss. "Here we have instant hot chocolate, rife with preservatives,
or...." With a flourish, he produced a can of Hershey's Cocoa from the cabinet.
"We can make the real thing, from scratch."
"Don't you have to heat up milk for that?"
"Yeah, that's what makes it good."
"Sounds like a pain." Jake took the packet of Swiss Miss. "This has those little
marshmallows in it. I love those."
"But we have real marshmallows."
"I like these."
"Wait a minute. You'd rather have dehydrated, reconstituted marshmallows from an
envelope than the big, fluffy, real marshmallows that will melt into a delicious
froth over your cocoa?"
"Yes."
Hamilton shook his head. "OK. Whatever."
Jake watched as he filled the teakettle with water. She walked up slowly behind
him and whispered, "Hey, while you make the cocoa, I'm gonna go upstairs and
change."
"OK," Hamilton replied.
"Your parents are both in bed?"
"I guess."
"So, maybe... I'll change into something more comfortable?"
Hamilton set the kettle down on the stove and turned around to look at her. She
grinned at him suggestively and placed her hands on his chest.
"Maybe I should just bring the cocoa upstairs," he said.
Jake said nothing more but pursed her lips at him in an air kiss and then turned
and trotted up the stairs.
As Hamilton fixed the hot cocoa, he wondered what she was changing into.
Hopefully nothing at all, he thought. A quick fantasy passed through his mind of
Jake slowly sauntering down those stairs au natural. He had seen her totally
naked only twice, but those moments had been rushed and self-conscious. He'd
never had time to explore, and now he couldn't form a perfect image of her naked
body in his mind. So he consoled himself by envisioning her in various states on
undress.
Maybe she has a teddy, he thought. Something skimpy and lacy and red. She looks
great in red, and it's a Christmas color.
Hamilton shook his head. Why didn't he think of that sooner? He could've bought
her a teddy. Stupid stupid stupid. Well, he didn't care what she was wearing. It
was all going to end up on the floor next to his bed anyway.
Hamilton smiled to himself as he set the frothy cups on the table and sat down.
Tonight would be the night. He was sure of it.
And no sooner had his mental arousal reached full fever pitch than he heard her
faint footsteps reach the bottom of the stairs, soft and slow -- feminine steps,
not like her usual boyish stomping. Maybe his fantasy was coming true... He
started to turn around but then realized that she was trying to sneak up on him,
tip-toeing toward him across the linoleum. He loved it. He didn't turn around
but played along with her little game.
She stopped directly behind him and ran her fingers through his hair, then
placed the softest kiss on his temple.
"Grrrrrr..." he growled, long and low, letting the growl soften into a meow that
invited her to continue that kiss on down his neck.
The hand in his hair froze, then retreated. And then a voice...
"Munchie?"
Now Hamilton froze.
It wasn't Jake behind him.