December Twenty Fourth
The Real Jade
It's Christmas Eve and they're in Canada, surrounded by a few of Beck's relatives in the living room of his aunt's house.
The room is small, but cozy, and the two chairs and couch ordinarily couldn't seat the seven family members comfortably.
Beck and Jade are very comfortable though, huddled up together, Jade sitting across Beck's lap in the cozy armchair next to the fireplace.
They don't have fireplaces in California, and sometimes Jade really hates it there. Jade hates the sun, it turns her skin red while baking everyone else to a golden brown.
So maybe there's one good thing about Canada. The sun rays shine a little less brightly and their warmth is a lot more scarce, and Jade loves that.
Jade likes the fact that this place;Canada; has a need for a fireplace. She also kind of likes the way the heat of the fireplace glows throughout her, almost as if it's melting her icy heart, making it easier for her to lay her drowsy head on Beck's chest and listen to his heartbeat.
Beck's aunt stares at Jade from over the rim of her book.
She's confused. She's confused by the way the seemingly tough girl by day; the girl who piles of pounds of make up and walks everywhere as if she owns the place; is completely contempt to just lay their, still in Beck's lap.
Jade's face is makeup less at the moment, her hair hanging messily over her shoulders, covered by some old tee shirt. She doesn't look like the same girl that Beck's aunt remembers seeing earlier that day.
Beck knows Jade's tired and probably has forgotten anyone else is in the room. If she hasn't forgotten, she really doesn't care. That's why she's being so real right now, and he's glad, because his family hasn't really met this girl yet.
They haven't met the real Jade.