CHRISTMAS DAY came and... there was no snow. At all.

The sun shined as if to throw it in my face even more.

But I wasn't the only one grumbling.

"Shame on you, Santa Claus," Jeff grumbled as he arrived on his truck just seconds after all of us - Marga, Eva and I - were huddled close together, unlocking the diner. At all of us, present, he groaned even louder. "Guess we really have to open now, huh? You know, if no one just came..."

"And what?" Marga barked. "So you could give us an earful after? Hell no, Jeffy, go in and heat up the damn meat."

Instead of the usual wave away of annoyance, Jeff glared at her until he got inside, stomping over until he slammed the kitchen door behind all of us, startling all three of us.

Marga glared at the door. "What's up his cranky ass?"

"I don't think his family came for Christmas," Eva murmured.

I sighed. "Again? I thought they were getting along this year. Didn't Jean said -"

"- Well, Jean went back on her damn word. Don't know what's wrong with that girl, it isn't like her dad cheated or whatever the f- "

"-Ya'll know I'm not paying for anyone of you stand outside and let the damn cold in?" Jeffrey barked.

"Aye, aye boss!" Marga sighed. "We're out for a rough Christmas, ladies. Hope ya'll spent your Christmas Eves wisely."

And just like that, I remembered Orion's soft lips touching my cheek and the leap of action made with pure instinct when I kissed him back. It wasn't even on the lips, and hardly anything more than a peck that resulted in us turning in early, stewing in the silence of what occurred.

I don't regret it, I thought as I prepared for the day, tying my apron and relieving two Orions in my head. One that kissed me last night, warm eyes and soft lips, and the other I left this morning, warm face snuggled deep into the covers and resting peacefully.

My grip on the dishcloth tightened as I stared outside, at the shining sun, warming the snow. The winter season saying goodbye. Slowly. I like him.

I like him and I don't want him to leave.

- - -

Of course, it is impossible to ask him to stay.

It wasn't just the selfish connotations the question produced, the very new and very war line we found ourselves dancing on withstanding - as it is, is/was still just two pecks on the cheeks, hardly a profound exclamation of love. But it was also that he was a werewolf. A very large prey and prize to the hunters in this town. I might as well be painting a bullseye on the back of his head. So selfish to ask him to stay, to risk his life, all for 'heart flutters'.

But... am I not allowed one selfish want?

Was I not allowed to want one thing, to want a person?

It was cycle in my head, all these questions, these equations without an answer. They line up like question bubbles with mostly a blurry answer that felt inevitable.

I wanted Orion to stay. And by selfishly wanting him by my side, I could very well just plunge the knife straight to his heart. This place was dangerous to Orion and yet...

And yet you're praying for more. More than those pecks, more than a season.

"You're thinking too hard about this."

I turned, shocked, coffee pot in hand at Marga's unmasked lazy face. She lifted an eyebrow.

"You noticed?"

"More like heard." She snorted, untangling herself from lying over the counter. Lunch rush was coming, and we were in the eye of the storm. Soon, the calm was going to be packed with the hungry, but for now, the storms were calm.

"You've been sighing a lot. The face on the other hand, no shift of course, still an ice barrier. But the sigh is intense. It's different, so it's noticeable. Care to tell me what's gotten you so worried? It's that boy isn't it, the boy who still hasn't appeared."

I sighed. No use lying. "Psychic?"

"No, just good intuition. You can tell me, hon, right?"

"... it's complicated," I admitted. And then blinked. Apart from the fact that Orion was a werewolf who could be hunted and prosecuted, the facts were clear. "Well, I guess not that complicated. I want him to stay. I've grown to like him... more than my arrangement with him."

"Oh." Marga blinked, straightening. This was a first for the both of us; me divulging more of myself than I care to, and her being the person I tell.

Because of her usually nosy and loud disposition, she knew it wasn't easy for me to choose her. After all, I was very notably the opposite of her as everyone could tell. Marga liked stories, she liked telling them and liked hearing them. I was quiet to a fault, all my thoughts locked in the very center of my being.

This was new for us. And for that I felt her sincerity more, taking this as seriously as the small flickers of anxiety shown in my face.

"You like him that much huh?"

"Yeah."

"Why can't you ask him to stay?"

"Because it would be selfish," I said, my words careful. "He's a wayfarer, a wanderer. He doesn't stick to one place too long. He's leaving as soon as the frost is warm enough."

"It wouldn't be selfish to ask, you know," she said softly, her hand finding my own. "And it's nerve-wracking to confess, but it usually gives you answers. You should ask him. Before he leaves if you're comfortable to it. This feels like a once in a lifetime, hon."

"What do you mean?"

Her eyes crinkle. "You don't seem like the type to fall in love twice."

I reeled, my heart caught in my throat. "Who said anything about love?"

"It may not be love, but it's something close. You don't wear your heart in your sleeve, Bree. You keep it somewhere inside, locked, and so carefully hidden that it forgets what first loves and love at first sights are. Of course this could just be the ramblings of an ancient hopeless romantic-" She giggled. "But you're not the type to have feelings this intense for someone. So it means something to you."

She raised both of her hands in surrender, her smile pronounced. "Of course, again, this just might be as a hopeless romantic and you're more than welcome to ignore, but take the shot. Be brave. Because he can't know unless you tell him. I've learned that the hard way, darling. And it's better to be frank really."

"O... okay." I looked down on the counter, the figures of what Marga was proposing already forming in my mind. It felt clear, one goal visible, but the idea, the formation of itself made my heart thud.

It was loud. Boom, boom, boom.

I touched my chest where it was the loudest. Marga watched this action with a small smile.

"Good luck, our darling little bee." She leaned over and kissed the top of my head, whispering, "And if you do confess, regardless of the outcome, we're going out drinking. Either as a celebration or a c'est la vie, hm?"

"Okay." I mustered up a smile as she left, her hips swaying, lips pursed into a whistle.

Okay.

- - -

Lunch came and curiously, it wasn't packed as it usually was. The familiars from town were here in various colorful brigade that I realized who were missing.

"There is a surprisingly small amount of hunters today," Marga murmured as she piled the plates on her tray, one arm steady. "The place isn't even packed."

Black clothes identified them, good for distinguishing their job if they were seen around the forest. There was only half of what was usually domineering 80% ratio.

"What do you think happened?" I asked. Everyday, almost without stutter, hunters came at the diner at the convenience of location and greasy food was easy to digest after hours of working outside.

"Hopefully nothing bad." Marga quirked an eyebrow before leaving.

I was trying to work on my own tray, mind adrift, when the scream of my name startled me and the mug drops from my hand, it's coffee sloshing as it broke into a million of pieces.

"Sorry, sorry," I muttered as I bent to pick up the pieces, my heart suddenly racing. I turned my head just in time to see Elise's blonde hair whipping towards me.

"What's going on?"

Jeff's voice broke to the murmurings, but Elise crouched beside me, her voice harried and panicked, her face wiped with sweat and a paleness before I could open my mouth.

"Hunters found a werewolf south of the border. They have him in one of those steel traps, he's hurt."

"W-What are you-" My heart thundered one name again and again, the panic seizing my throat and squeezing it.

Elise clamped her hand over my arm. "I know where he is. Hunter was just called. Orion needs your help."

I was nodding as I stood up, my throat closed up, every fiber of my being seperated my brain from the rest of me.

Orion needs my help. Orion needs my help.

Elise knows about Orion.

Elise knows he's a werewolf.

Orion is hurt.

I clenched my fists, my eyes closing. I could distinctly hear Elise talking over the ringing in my ears; feel the red coat Orion gave me being adjusted on my body; smell the grease, the murmurs.

When I opened my eyes, only one thought pressed.

I am not going to let you hurt him.

"Elise?" The blonde girl turned. We were now outside, the commotion in the diner was a backdrop. "We have to stop by my house first."

"That would be around the bend - "

" - I need my gun."