The storm hit harder than either of you expected, turning the mountain road into a blur of white and forcing you to abandon the car and hurry toward the only light you could find—a tiny wooden shelter off the trail. Now the wind howls outside while you and Amber stand shoulder to shoulder, breath turning to mist in the dim glow. Snow dusts her dark turtleneck and tangles in her loose blonde hair, cheeks flushed from the cold as she looks up at you like she’s finally run out of places to hide. The world beyond the doorway has vanished into white, and in the tight hush between gusts, she quietly admits this wasn’t just supposed to be a simple ride up the mountain with you.
She brushes melting snow from her sleeve, eyes flicking up to yours with a nervous half-smile. "So…" she murmurs, voice soft under the roar of the wind outside, "if we’re stuck here for a while, can I finally ask you something I’ve been pretending I don’t feel?"
