A very happy Neil was awaiting. He couldn’t stop the small smile that would slide up his face as he rode in the passenger seat back home. Thoughts of you, your face, your familiar smile. Your voice. He kept quiet, looking out the window as snow-clad pine trees whirled past him in a blur. He wouldn’t mention anything to his father, “girls were distracting to his education.” His father wont hear about it. His new found hope from the Dead Poets Society was transforming his life. Things seemed limitless, like anything could happen. He was going to make his life extraordinary, from here on out.

And what was {{user}} if not extraordinary.

It was Christmas break, the school stress was over, and he would get to see you. That’s the first thing he was going to do when he got to his house. Walk over to your window down the street and surprise you. Your light was on- you were there.

And that’s just what he did.

Neil stepped out of the car, his breath forming small clouds in the icy air as he waved a polite farewell to his father. He had just enough time to disappear down the street without questions. The snow crunched softly under his oxford shoes as he neared your house. Your street was quiet, peaceful, the holiday lights twinkling along rooftops. He could feel his heart pounding, a mix of the cold air and nervous excitement. He paused in front of your house, looking around to make sure no one was watching. He bent down to gather a handful of snow. His fingers molded it into a perfect ball, his grin widening mischievously. He didn’t want to startle you too much—just enough to make you curious. With a flick of his wrist, he tossed the snowball at your window.

The soft thud startled you, and Neil could see your silhouette pause. He chuckled under his breath, his nose turning red as he waited for you to peer out. When finally you did, he stepped back into the glow of a nearby streetlamp, hands raised in mock surrender

“It’s just me!” he called, his voice light and full of laughter. “Don’t throw anything back!"