Christopher's POV.
The morning crept in quietly, soft light slipping through the blinds. I should have been thinking about my lecture or the impossible two-week challenge I had set for myself. Two weeks to make Felicity forget the boy who broke her. But all I could focus on was her arm, looped lazily around mine, like she belonged there.
Her breath warmed my shoulder. My heart, usually so steady and disciplined, was thundering like an undisciplined drummer boy. If Penelope walked in now, I'd never hear the end of it. But I didn't care. Felicity looked too peaceful to disturb, and I wasn't about to let go first.
I whispered into the silence, a vow only she could hear:
"I won't let you break again. Not because of him. Not because of anyone. Two weeks, Felicity Paddington. That's all I'm asking. Two weeks to prove I can be the one."
She stirred, half-asleep, mumbling something about croissants and literature class. I laughed softly. God help me, I was already gone.
By mid-morning, Penelope stormed into the dorm like a one-woman hurricane, throwing the curtains open.
"Well, well, Sleeping Beauty and Prince Tragic. Rise and shine before the gossip mill eats you alive."
Felicity groaned, burying her face in the pillow. "Tell them to choke on their rumors."
Penelope smirked. "Please. This is Oxford. Rumors are currency."
I glared at her. She only winked.
The first step of my challenge? A road trip. Not far—just away from Oxford, away from the whispers. Felicity deserved space to breathe again and maybe, just maybe, laugh with me.
We hit the road in my car, snow dusting the countryside. Felicity leaned against the window, her smile brighter than the sky.
"So… this is your car? Or did you borrow it?" she asked.
"This is my car. I have plenty, but this one is my favorite. I hope it's fancy enough for you," I said.
Her eyes went wide. "Wait—so the car you drove me in, when I fell asleep and you took me straight to my dorm—that was your car? Wow. Fancy enough? Shut the front door. Oh my gosh, this is the fanciest car I've ever seen!"
"Thank you," I said with a small smile.
And just like that, the stage was set. Felicity and I had two weeks of borrowed time—laughter, tears, long drives through the countryside, stolen glances in lectures, club meetings that turned into inside jokes.
Two weeks where I tried to make her believe love could be safe.
The road stretched ahead, long and quiet. Felicity reached out as if to catch the falling snow. She leaned her forehead against the window, her breath making small clouds on the glass while the snowy hedges rushed past.
"I love winter," she said suddenly.
"Whoa, I'm shocked," I teased.
"Shut up," she laughed, giving me a playful look. "It's snowing! I love snow. This is the first time I've seen it in England."
"Yeah," I said quietly. "Our first snow together."
Her cheeks flushed, and my grip on the wheel tightened.
"You know," she said, her voice soft, "I used to imagine Oxford as this perfect fairytale. Cobblestones, gowns, secret gardens. And now—" She trailed off, pulling her scarf tighter.
"And now?" I asked, glancing at her.
She turned, eyes gleaming with something unspoken. "Now it's messy. Complicated. But still…kind of amazing."
I wanted to tell her she was amazing. Instead, I gripped the steering wheel tighter and kept my hands steady on the wheel, but my eyes kept drifting to her. The way her lips curved in wonder, her hair tucked under the beanie, her fingers tracing the glass—it was hard to look away.
"You look far away," I said gently.
She turned, a soft smile on her face. "Maybe I am. It feels like a movie."
I laughed. "Then you're the main character. I'm just the driver."
Her cheeks warmed, and she faced the window again, though I caught the smile she tried to hide. For a moment, the world outside disappeared. It was just us, the snow, and the quiet hum of the road.
About an hour in, we stopped at a tiny roadside café that looked like it had been frozen in time since 1950 called Maggie's Tea & Toasts. Inside smelled of butter and cinnamon.
The waitress mistook us for a couple. Felicity blushed. "Oh, no, we're just—"
"—starving," I cut in smoothly.
We ended up sharing a plate of scones because the waitress "forgot" to bring a second. Felicity tore hers in half, spread it with jam, and without thinking, held it up to my mouth.
My heart nearly stopped. I leaned in, took a bite. Our eyes locked, and for a moment, the whole café faded away. Then another plate clattered onto the table, and it broke the moment.
Back on the road, the sun dipped low, painting the sky gold. Felicity hummed softly to the radio, her voice so pure it sent shivers through me.
"You should sing more often," I said.
She glanced at me, surprised. "You think so?"
"I know so." I swallowed. "It's beautiful."
Her smile made my chest ache and I knew I'd carry that smile forever.
Of course, no road trip goes smoothly. Halfway back, the car sputtered and broke down right in front of a sheep field.
"Seriously?" Felicity groaned, kicking the snow with her boot. "We break down in front of an audience of sheep?"
The sheep bleated, and she burst into laughter and despite my frustration, I couldn't help but laugh with her.
We walked half a mile to a nearby village, boots crunching in the snow. Her hand brushed mine again and again, like the universe wanted them to stay together.
At one point, she slipped on the ice. I caught her, arms around her waist. She gasped, eyes wide. Our faces hovered inches apart.
I should have kissed her. Gosh, I wanted to. But she pulled back, whispering, "Thanks," before stepping away. The moment was gone, leaving me aching.
By the time we reached Oxford again, stars filled the sky. Felicity leaned against her dorm door, exhaustion softening her features.
"Thank you," she said quietly. "For today. For making me feel…light again."
I wanted to tell her everything then—that I loved her, that I'd never let her break again. Instead, I just smiled and brushed snow from her hair. "You deserve light every day."
She didn't answer, but the way she looked at me like maybe she believed it said enough.
What neither of us knew was that while we were laughing with sheep and sipping tea, Mia Harrison's rumor had already started spreading. By tomorrow morning, the whispers would be everywhere. But tonight, it was just us. And for me, that was enough.