48 winter festival
The first thing Scott Allen says when all seven of us meet outside the dorms is:
"So are we all emotionally prepared for the sexual tension level in this group?"
"Scott," Logan says flatly.
"What? I'm just observing dynamics."
"You sound like a documentary narrator."
Scott gasps dramatically. "And here we see the emotionally constipated older brother in his natural habitat-"
Logan shoves him directly into a snowbank.
Honestly?
Best possible start to the night.
Peyton nearly falls over laughing while recording the entire thing on her phone.
"This is cinema," she announces.
Scott rises from the snow with the dignity of a Victorian ghost. "I've been attacked for speaking truth."
"Try speaking less," Logan suggests.
Beside me, Jackson quietly says, "I think I'm watching your brother fall in love with Allen against his will."
I snort before I can stop myself.
The sound makes Jackson glance down at me immediately, smiling automatically like he can't help it anymore.
Which still does weird things to my internal organs.
It's freezing outside, December cold sharp enough to turn everyone's breath visible, but downtown Springfield is glowing with Christmas lights already.
Every storefront is covered in garland and gold lights.
Fake snow sprays from somewhere overhead.
Music drifts through the crowded streets while people move between food stands and little holiday booths wrapped in scarves and oversized coats.
The whole city feels softer tonight somehow.
Warmer.
Even with snow everywhere.
Nola and Yasmine are walking slightly ahead of us, shoulder to shoulder, and it's honestly painful how obvious they are now. Not obnoxious, just... constant.
Yasmine keeps fixing Nola's scarf every five minutes because apparently Nola has forgotten how clothing works.
Meanwhile Nola keeps staring at her like she personally invented happiness.
Peyton notices too.
"Jesus Christ," she mutters beside me. "They're actually disgusting."
"You cried when they kissed."
"That is unrelated."
Scott immediately appears on Peyton's other side.
"You cried?"
"She absolutely cried," I confirm.
Peyton points at me threateningly. "You're on thin ice, Everly Coleman."
"Seasonally appropriate insult," Jackson says approvingly.
Peyton gasps. "Thank you, Bennett."
"I regret supporting you instantly."
The group dissolves into overlapping conversation again while we walk deeper into the festival.
At some point Jackson's hand brushes mine accidentally.
Just briefly.
Barely even there.
But both of us notice immediately.
I know because he glances sideways at me at the exact same time I look at him.
Neither of us says anything.
A minute later it happens again.
Then again.
Until eventually Jackson just quietly hooks his pinky around mine like he's testing something.
My heart nearly stops.
I look down automatically, then up at him.
Jackson's expression stays casual, but there's something careful underneath it too, like he's giving me room to pull away if I want.
Instead I slide my fingers fully through his.
The smile he tries to hide afterward is honestly embarrassing.
And somehow that makes me happier.
The weirdest part is how natural it feels. Like we skipped past awkwardness entirely somehow.
No performance.
No uncertainty.
Just Jackson's cold fingers tangled with mine while Christmas lights glow overhead.
I catch him looking at me constantly.
Not even subtle about it either.
I'll turn my head and find him already watching me with this quiet almost-distracted expression like he still can't fully believe I'm real.
The first few times it makes me nervous.
By the tenth time it just makes my chest ache softly.
We stop at a hot chocolate stand halfway through the festival.
Jackson buys mine before I can argue.
"Sexist," I inform him.
"You literally forgot your wallet."
"That feels irrelevant."
"You're exhausting."
"You're obsessed with me."
"That too."
We walk away from the stand still bickering quietly while the others argue about whether ice skating is worth the risk of public humiliation.
It is not.
Especially not for Scott.
I steal a sip from Jackson's hot chocolate while he's distracted listening to Logan complain about skate rentals.
Jackson looks down at me immediately. "You literally have your own."
I shrug innocently. "Yours tastes emotionally better."
He stares at me for a second, then laughs under his breath like he physically can't help it. "Emotionally better?"
"Yes."
"That's not a thing."
"It absolutely is."
"You're insane."
"You love me anyway."
Jackson's whole expression softens at that.
"Yeah," he says quietly. "I really do."
My stomach flips so violently it's honestly humiliating.
Thankfully Peyton starts yelling before I have to respond. "ALLEN IS FALLING."
Every head snaps toward the skating rink.
Scott is somehow horizontal already.
"How did he even-"
He slams directly into the side railing with the grace of a dying gazelle.
Peyton records the entire thing while crying laughing.
"I think my spine detached," Scott announces from the ice.
"Skill issue," Logan says.
Jackson's laughing hard enough beside me that he bends forward slightly, and without thinking I grab onto his sleeve to steady myself while I laugh too.
His hand settles automatically against my lower back.
Easy.
Protective.
Natural.
The realization hits me all over again then.
We're really doing this.
Not almost.
Not nearly.
Actually.
By the time the festival starts winding down, snow is falling harder around us, soft flakes catching in everyone's hair and scarves while Christmas lights blur gold against the dark sky.
Some tourist asks if we want a group photo.
Peyton immediately volunteers all of us.
"Evidence," she says seriously.
"Of what?" Logan asks.
"That we survived Scott's skating."
Scott flips her off.
We crowd together under the lights while the stranger counts down.
Nola tucked against Yasmine's side.
Scott still dramatically wounded.
Peyton grinning like chaos itself.
Logan pretending he hates this while clearly smiling anyway.
And Jackson-
Jackson's arm slides around my shoulders automatically as soon as I step beside him.
Like it belongs there already.
Like he didn't even have to think about it.
I tilt slightly into his side before I can stop myself.
The camera flashes.
And for one suspended second under the Christmas lights, with snow falling softly around all of us, everything feels warm.