WHAT’S IN A NAME?

Happy Christmas, everyone!

She stuck out her tongue and tasted snow; a touch of momentary ice against heat. And then it was gone, the change in temperature too much for it to withstand.

She knew she looked a sight, with her lashes frosted against her eyelids by the furiously falling snow, a pink nose, chapped lips and a pink scarf dotted with ever-vanishing snowflakes, but she didn’t care. After all, there wasn’t anyone around to stare at her. And…

It was snowing! Snowing, she repeated in her mind, an involuntary shiver of excitement racing down her back.

It was also undeniably Christmas. The tune of a Christmas song played randomly in her mind: I’m dreaming of a White Christmas…

She sneaked a peek at those fluorescent numbers blinking on her digital watch. 12:05 am. Christmas! Even though she was alone, but hey, that didn’t mean she wasn’t living la vida loca amongst these snowy-capped mountains worthy of a postcard.

“Happy Christmas.” She whispered, and nearly upset the mug of hot chocolate she had cupped between her gloved hands when a voice answered her. “Merry Christmas.”

“J-Jesus!” Heartbeat pumping at triple of its usual rate, she turned, only to feel a scowl turning the corners of her mouth down when she spotted the jerk who had caused her fall this afternoon smiling—no, smirking at her. “You! What are you doing here?”

His smirk widened, as he crossed over the short distance spanning between their cabins to stand beside her. “I’m staying here. How’s that beautiful behind of yours? Still sore?”

“You—!” She sputtered, looking away to the pretty mountains –all that snow!—towards her left. “How can you talk about—I—”

“Still sore, then?” He ducked his head to peer at her expression, half-hidden as it is beneath her ski hat. “I can massage it for you, if you want.”

“You!” Furious, she turned, meeting his gaze at last. His smirk morphs into a full-fledged grin, which faded slightly when he realises that she is utterly furious and not the least bit flirtatious. “You! Go away! If y-you crash into me on t-the slopes, a-and you b-broke one my skiing s-sticks, a-and then you nearly m-made me drop my c-chocolate, and n-now you p-proposition me! You’re d-destroying my C-Christmas! Now— go—AWAY!”

“Ski poles.” His matter-of-fact-tone had her pausing. “WHAT?”

“They’re called ski poles, not skiing sticks.” He pointed out, while she felt another surge of anger and—something He was handsome, and very tall, even though he was a jerk. “W-Whatever! What’s i—in a name, a—anyway?”

“That which we call a rose by any other name, will smell as sweet. You’re prettier than a rose.” He said it in such a dispassionate way that it took her five full seconds and three snowflakes drifting into her open mouth to understand what he said. Shocked, she turned and— “Oomph!”

He dropped his scarf over her head and a quick kiss on her lips, and she blinked foolishly at him, fingering the rubber ducky painted in full Christmas regalia sewed onto one end of the scarf. Did he just kiss her? “W—What?”

“You’re too cold. Look, your teeth are chattering. Come on in, Andrea.” It took her another five seconds to realise he was pulling her towards his cabin. But… why? “H-How did you know my name?”

“I heard the receptionist address you as Miss Andrea Linnet two days ago, when you checked in.” He turned the knob of the door, and ducked inside, answering the question reflected in her eyes. “It’s Joseph, by the way.”

“Can I call you Joe?” Softly uttered, the question nearly didn’t reach his ears. He grinned at her, causing her heartbeat to accelerate to trice its rate again—but in a good way. “Of course.”

He tugged on her hand, but she remained outside, her fingers tightly interlocked with his, but— “Joe? I have a question. Can I ask it?”

His back towards her, he stepped backwards, turning around to face her. “You’re asking it. Yep?”

Her expression gave him pause. “Why… me?”

He tucked a curl of her hair behind her ear, his eyes softening. “I fell in love with you when you tripped over your bags on the way to the elevators on that day.”

She groaned softly in embarrassment, her gaze still wary but he could see that—that— there was something in her eyes. He brushed a hand over her lips. “As for why… That’s because ‘at Christmas, you tell the truth’.”

“He didn’t get together with her in the end, you know. She was married to his best friend.” She murmured; her breath feathering against his fingers.

“But you aren’t, are you?” He tried to look nonchalant, but she could see his uncertainty. “Nope.”

He made her kick off her snow boots with unseemly haste –kissing her all the time; dropping the long-suffering mug at last.

It was afternoon before both of them discovered the now-frozen chocolate congealed in her snow boots.

A/N: Credit of the title and the "What's in a name?" quote goes to William "The Bard" Shakespeare, While the "At Christmas, you tell the truth" quote belongs to Love Actually and whoever that owns it. Review if you like it!