“You want some of my mocha frappe?” Lizzie asks, holding her cup out for Charlotte to see. The other hand holds tight to Charlotte’s.
Charlotte doesn’t think she’ll ever get enough of that sensation.
“I don’t think it’s warm enough yet for frappes,” Charlotte says by way of answer.
The sun is shining brightly but the wind brings a sharp chill to the college courtyard, the seasons taking unbearably long to change.
Charlotte’s own mug is almost too hot to hold comfortably; Lizzie’s not even wearing gloves, so she can’t imagine how frozen her other fingers must be.
“It’s not that cold,” Lizzie says. She takes a sip as if to prove it, but she shivers just slightly, and Charlotte grins. Her girlfriend is way too stubborn for her own good.
Charlotte squeezes Lizzie’s hand tighter, and draws closer against the chill.
“If you say so,” she says. “Just don’t give yourself a brain freeze. You’ve got a test in an hour. Don’t forget.”
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