The closer they got to the top, the louder everything became.

The hum of the lift. The scrape of metal. Voices—faint at first, then clearer as the station came into view through the thinning snow.

Jess straightened slightly. On instinct.

The moment—the stillness, the quiet, the whatever that had been—started slipping away before she could figure out what to do with it. Beside her, Shawn shifted too, pulling the headphone away and handing it back without a word.

Jess took it. Their fingers didn't touch this time.

She wound the cord around her hand carefully, too focused on the motion, like if she did it right, she wouldn't have to think about anything else.

"Alright," Shawn said, voice lighter now. Different. It's like he changed more and more the closer they got to the top. "Try not to fall getting off."

Jess blinked. "What?"

He nodded toward the approaching platform. "You've got about five seconds once the bar lifts."

The casualness of it—the sudden return to something normal, something detached—it hit harder than it should have.

"I know how to get off a lift," she said.

"Just making sure."

The chair swung forward, and Shawn lifted the bar above them.

"Now!" The lift attendant called from inside the window.

Jess pushed off. Clean. Controlled. Perfect.

Her skis hit the snow smoothly, gliding forward without hesitation.

She didn't look back right away. She didn't need to. Jess knew he'd be right behind her.

"See?" She said, turning slightly as he pulled up beside her. "No falling."

"Yeah," he said. "You're improving."

It should have felt like before, like their newfound witty banter. But something was off. Like the air had shifted just enough to notice.

Jess adjusted her gloves again, buying time.

"So," she said, "We should find the others."

"Yeah," Shawn said.

Neither of them moved. This was the part where something was supposed to happen, but nothing did. Around them, other skiers moved past, voices rising and falling, the world snapping back into motion like it had been waiting for them to rejoin it.

Jess glanced at him.

He wasn't looking at her, but instead was scanning the slope, like he was already somewhere else.

The distance came back all at once. Sharp.

"So," she said again, quieter now, "I'll—uh—go this way."

Shawn nodded. "Yeah."

Still not looking at her.

Jess hesitated.

Then—

"Okay," she said.

And pushed off.

The slope was steeper than the beginner runs, much higher up too. It wasn't a black diamond run but it wasn't exactly a green trail either.

Jess focused immediately—on balance, on movement, on staying in control. Breathing in and out and thinking about warm hot cocoa waiting for her back in the lodge.

It was easier to think about that. Easier than thinking about her earlier conversation with Shawn.

She made it down in one continuous run. No falls. No stops.

At the bottom, she slowed, coming to a steady halt.

"Jess!"

She turned.

Ana Lucia skied toward her, relief obvious in her face.

"Oh my god, where did you go?" she said. "You disappeared."

"I got pushed into the wrong line," Jess said. "I went up a different lift."

"Were you alone?"

Jess opened her mouth.

"No," she said.

Ana Lucia narrowed her eyes slightly. "Who were you with?"

Jess adjusted her gloves again.

"Shawn."

Ana Lucia's expression changed instantly.

"Oh."

"It wasn't—" Jess started.

But she didn't know how to finish that sentence.

"It wasn't what?" Ana Lucia asked.

Jess shook her head. "Nothing. It was just... a lift."

Ana Lucia stared at her.

"You're lying."

"Lying?" Jess repeated. "I am not!"

"You are."

"I'm not," Jess repeated, sharper now.

Ana Lucia held up her hands. "Okay. Fine. Don't tell me."

Jess sighed, but Ana Lucia let it go.

...

They regrouped near the A-line lodge.

The storm had mostly passed now, leaving everything quieter, softer, like the mountain had exhaled somehow. A last breath of the year.

Jess stood with the Ridgemont Prep group, half-listening to the conversation –someone was talking about dinner plans. Someone else was arguing about whether they should go out later or stay in.

Normal. Everything was normal.

Jess nodded at the right moments. Smiled when she was supposed to. But her mind—

her mind kept slipping back.

The lift.

The music.

The way it had felt...

"Yo, Park!"

Jess looked up without meaning too.

Across the snow, Shawn approached with the same group as before—Tyler and the others, loud and animated. The way they seemed to follow him around like moths to a flame irked Jess for reasons she couldn't explain.

"There you are," Tyler said, clapping him on the shoulder. "Thought you bailed on us, man."

"Nah," Shawn said. "Got stuck on a lift. Almost an hour–"

"No way," someone else said. "Seriously?"

"Yeah," he said.

"With who?" Tyler asked.

Jess's chest tightened.

Shawn shrugged. "Just someone from the group."

Jess froze. Not—not even her name. Just someone.

"Damn," Tyler said. "That sucks."

"Yeah," Shawn said. "It was whatever."

The word landed harder than it should have.

Jess looked down quickly, focusing on brushing snow off her sleeve that wasn't there.

It shouldn't matter. It didn't matter.

"Jess?"

She looked up.

Ana Lucia was watching her again, her long black braid fraying around her face.

"What?" Jess said.

"Nothing," Ana Lucia said. "Just—checking."

Jess forced a small smile. "I'm fine."

Ana Lucia didn't look convinced.

Across the way, Shawn laughed at something Tyler said.

Easy. Effortless. Like the lift hadn't happened. Like the conversation hadn't mattered. Jess felt something twist in her chest.

Not anger. Just confusion.

Because she didn't understand how something could feel so real—and then be treated like it wasn't anything at all.

"Come on," Ana Lucia said, nudging her. "Let's go inside. I'm freezing."

"Yeah." Jess nodded.

She turned toward the lodge, walking with the group, letting their voices fill the space around her.

Behind her, she could hear Shawn's voice—faint, indistinct, blending into the rest.

She didn't turn around. Didn't look back. Because she wasn't supposed to.

Because it didn't mean anything.

Because it couldn't.

Later, when she was alone, brushing snow from her jacket in the quiet of the room, Jess paused. Her hand stilled. And without meaning to, she replayed it.

The music.

The conversation.

The way he'd said her name.

Jess.

Soft on his lips. Like the name mattered to him.

Jess exhaled slowly. Then shook her head, pushing the thought away, because she had a plan. Because she knew how this worked. Because one moment—no matter how real it felt—didn't change anything.

Except it had.

Just enough to make everything else feel slightly off.

What a day to end a year.