Jess woke up before her alarm –something she did often –and for a second, she didn't remember where she was.

The ceiling was wrong—wooden beams instead of smooth white plaster. The air felt different too, cooler, sharper, like it hadn't settled overnight. Then it came back to her.

France. The lodge. Room 214.

Jess sat up slowly, clutching at her button-down night shirt.

In the bed beside hers, Ana Lucia was still asleep, buried under layers of blankets. Tyler –the fourth person in their unexpected suite –was already awake, sitting with his back against the wall and flipping through an Après magazine. Jess was almost positive Tyler could not speak French.

Cool-blue light filtered through the window shades and Jess's eyes skimmed the room and found the fourth bed. Shawn.

He was awake, not moving, exactly, just lying there with one arm tucked behind his head, staring up at the ceiling like he'd been awake for a while.

Jess hesitated before she stood up and pulled on her fuzzy socks. Ana Lucia stirred and went still once more. Then, because pretending would be worse, she said, "You're up early."

Shawn's eyes shifted toward her. "Could say the same to you."

"I have a schedule."

"Of course you do. I didn't hear an alarm. Guess you don't need one," Shawn teased.

Jess swung her legs over the side of the bed, and rummaged through her toiletry bag until her fingers found the toothbrush. 

"We have lessons at nine," she said. "And breakfast is only served until eight-thirty."

Shawn pushed himself up onto his elbows. "You memorized that?"

"It's not hard to remember."

"Right," he said. "Because you've only read it, what, fifty times?"

Jess ignored that, pulling on a sweater over her button-down. Behind her, she heard him shift again—sitting up now, feet hitting the floor.

Shawn dispersed the air around her. The room felt smaller than it had the night before. It didn't feel uncomfortable. It just felt shared. Especially when Jess noticed how casual he looked in his gym shorts and T-shirt –almost like she was imposing on his own personal space.

"Yo, you're up!" Tyler chucked the magazine at Shawn. "Get dressed dude, we need to be first on the mountain."

"I'm getting dressed. It'll take me three minutes," Shawn told him. "Relax."

Jess scrunched up her nose at Shawn, as if to say 'see, I'm not the only one'.

Shawn had gotten dressed quickly and, in less time than it took for Jess to force Ana Lucia awake, Tyler was dragging him from the suite. Shawn stopped in the doorway and looked at Jess.

"Don't wait too long. Breakfast is only served for another–" Shawn checked his wrist. "Hour and a half." He feigned alarm.

Jess couldn't stop herself from laughing to herself.

"And thanks for being my alarm clock," Shawn whispered on his way out.

...

The dining hall was already busy, filled with picture-perfect families and tourists and class trips. Jess heard four languages by the time she reached the coffee.

Students moved in loose clusters, trays clattering, voices echoing off the wooden walls. Outside the wide windows, the mountains stretched out under a pale morning sky, sunlight catching on the snow in a way that almost hurt to look at.

Jess grabbed a tray, moving efficiently through the line. Bread. Fruit. Something that looked like yogurt but was most definitely not. She reminded herself not to eat too much, since restrooms were few and far between on the mountain –not to mention the inconvenience of removing snow pants to pee!

"You're not even going to try the hot chocolate?" Ana Lucia asked, eyeing her, judgement clear as day.

"It's eight in the morning."

"Exactly."

Jess shook her head, sitting down. "Hot cocoa is a night cap kind of thing."

At the table behind theirs, Shawn dropped into his seat between Tyler and Troy. His tray looked like it was struggling—croissant, sausage, black coffee, something wrapped in foil.

"Balanced breakfast," she said before she could stop herself.

Shawn glanced at her tray. "...You're eating like you're about to run a marathon."

The sarcasm hit.

"I'm skiing," Jess answered, shrugging.

"Same difference."

Jess took a bite of her fruit, determined not to engage. It lasted about ten seconds.

"Have you ever skied before?" Shawn asked.

She hesitated, trying her best to ignore Ana Lucia's narrowed eyes.

"Once," she said. "A few years ago."

"How'd it go?"

Jess set her fork down carefully. "Fine."

Shawn nodded slowly, like he didn't believe her for a second. "Good, then you won't fall."

"I won't," she said.

He took a sip of his coffee to hide his smirk.

"We'll see."

...

The ski rental shop smelled like plastic and cold air and nostalgia.

Boots lined the walls in neat rows, skis were stacked in tight bundles, and helmets piled high on shelves. The threadbare carpet was damp with melting snow tracked in from the slopes. Footprints went in every direction.

Jess sat on a bench, wrestling with her orange boots. They were tighter than she expected and stiffer too. She pulled the straps harder but they didn't budge.

"Those aren't going to cooperate just because you're glaring at them," Ana Lucia said, flopping down on the bench.

Jess looked up. "I know! They're being stubborn."

Ana Lucia laughed and tried to help Jess push her feet into the boots.

"These ones are definitely from the seventies," Ana Lucia said, scrunching her nose at Jess's boots.

Shawn stood a few feet away, already fully geared up—boots on, jacket zipped, skis resting casually against his shoulder.

"You're done already?" she asked.

"Yeah."

"How?"

"I've done this before."

Jess frowned. "You said nothing about that."

"You didn't ask."

She looked back down at her boots, tugging again. Nothing.

"Here." Shawn stepped closer, crouching slightly in front of Jess and Ana Lucia.

"I can—"

"It's just the latch," he said, not looking at her. "You're pulling it the wrong way."

"I'm not—"

"You are."

Before she could protest again, he reached out—quick, efficient—and adjusted the strap, tightening it with a clean, practiced motion.

It clicked into place.

Jess went still.

"Oh," she said.

"Yeah."

He moved to the other boot, repeating the motion. Ana Lucia squealed behind them and pretended t occupy herself talking to Troy.

Shawn was close enough that Jess could see the faint scratch along his knuckle, the way his sleeves were slightly frayed at the edges. All details she hadn't noticed before.

"There," he said, standing again. "Now you can walk."

Jess stood carefully.

The boots felt... secure. Stable. Which was more than she could say for nerves.

"Thank you," she said, the words unfamiliar on her tongue.

Shawn shrugged. "Don't mention it."

...

The slopes were brighter than she expected. The chairlifts were higher –daunting –carrying you to new heights and igniting new fears.

The snow wasn't soft and powdery like it looked from a distance—it was packed, almost glittering under the sun. The air was colder, somehow. Jess adjusted her gloves and looked out at the incline ahead of them. It was steeper than it had seemed from the bus.

"This is the green circle beginner slope," the instructor was saying. "We start slow, yes?"

Jess nodded automatically. Slow was good. Controlled.

She felt it immediately—her balance shifting, skis sliding slightly beneath her in a way that felt completely unnatural.

Okay. That was fine. She could adjust. She pushed off gently. Her body tensed, instinctively leaning back, and her skis wobbled. Her arms flailed slightly, embarrassingly, until she finally fell. Not painfully, but one second she was upright and the next sitting in the snow, breath knocked out of her in a quiet, humiliating rush.

Around her, people kept moving. No one made a big deal of it –which somehow made it worse.

Jess pushed herself up immediately, brushing snow off her powder-blue jacket like it hadn't happened. She tried again, slower this time. Two seconds. Three. Another slip. Another fall. By the third time, frustration had started to settle in, sharp and familiar.

She stood again, jaw tight.

"I'm fine," she muttered under her breath.

"Didn't say you weren't."

Jess turned.

Shawn stood a few feet away, skis angled easily beneath him like they belonged there. He was clearly a pro.

"You're leaning back," he said.

"I am not."

"You are." Shawn smiled his stupid smile.

"I'm just adjusting."

"You're bracing," he corrected. "Which makes it worse."

Jess exhaled sharply. "I don't need—"

"Then don't listen," he said, already pushing off slightly, gliding a short distance down the slope before turning smoothly back toward her.

It wasn't showy and that was the problem. It was effortless.

Jess watched him for a second, something tight twisting in her chest.

"Ugh, fine!" She grumbled. The instructor was far away talking to Mr. Alvarez. "What am I supposed to do?"

Shawn studied her for a moment. Then he moved closer.

"Just... stand," he said. "Don't fight it."

"That's not helpful. I'm literally on skis –I don't have feet. How do I stand?" Jess glared at him.

Shawn folded his arms, shrugging, and started skiing backwards, indicating for Jess to follow him. Reluctantly, she shifted her weight. Forward this time, slightly.

"Bend your knees," Shawn told her.

She did.

"Now don't think about it."

"That's not help—"

"Jess."

She stilled. He hadn't called her that before. In fact, he may never have said her name before. Since kindergarten.

"Just go," he said.

Jess took a breath and pushed off.

One second. Two.

The slope tilted beneath her, but this time she didn't lean back. She didn't panic and her skis held –not perfectly, but enough.

At the bottom of the small stretch, she slowed, wobbling slightly before coming to a stop. Jess turned to see Shawn still at the top, watching her.

She lifted her chin slightly.

"I didn't fall!" She called up, happy.

He nodded once.

"Yeah!" He shouted. "You didn't! See, I'm a great teacher!"

Something flickered between them. Something unplanned. But Jess didn't hate it.

By the time the lesson ended, Jess was exhausted. It wasn't a physical exhaustion. It was mental. Every movement had required attention. Adjustment. Control. She hadn't had time to think about anything else. For the first time in a long time, her mind had been quiet. She stood at the edge of the slope, catching her breath.

Beside her, Shawn tapped his skis lightly against the snow.

"You're better than you think," he said.

Jess glanced at him.

"Don't," she said.

"Don't what?"

"Make it sound like I need encouragement."

He considered that.

Then, "Alright. You're less bad than you were an hour ago."

Jess let out a small, unexpected laugh. It surprised both of them.

Shawn smiled slightly.

And just like that something shifted.

Not dramatically.

Not all at once.

But enough to matter.

***

By the time Jess escaped the rental shop, the sky had already started to dim. The sharp brightness of the afternoon had faded into something quieter, the light stretching long across the snow. A bonfire burned in the grate at village center.

Jess's legs ached like she'd forgotten how to use them –like she hadn't used them in 100 years. She adjusted her scarf as she stepped out onto the lodge terrace, the door swinging shut behind her with a muted thud.

Cold air wrapped around her instantly. The terrace overlooked the lower slopes, now mostly empty. A few distant figures carved slow paths through the snow. Jess exhaled, watching her breath cloud in front of her.

For once, she wasn't thinking about what came next.

No schedule. No checklist. No plan.

Just... this.

"You look like you're deciding whether it was worth it."

She didn't jump. She didn't even turn right away. It's like she was growing used to his presence.

"Maybe I am," she said.

Shawn came into view at her side, holding two paper cups, steam curling up into the cold air.

He held one out.

Jess hesitated. "What is it?"

"Rocket fuel," Shawn joked. Then sighed. "Hot chocolate. What's wrong? Not part of your structured meal plan?"

Jess rolled her eyes but took it anyway. The cup was warm against her gloves and its heat seeped through.

"Thank you," she said.

He shrugged, leaning back against the wooden railing, facing the slope instead of her.

For a minute, neither of them spoke.

Jess took a cautious sip. It was too hot. Too sweet. Nothing like what she would have chosen.

"So," Shawn said, "On a scale from 'completely in control' to 'total disaster'... how'd today go?"

Jess stared out at the snow. "...somewhere in the middle?"

"That's progress."

"I fell three times."

"Four," he said.

She turned to him. "It was three."

"The one near the lift counts! How quickly you forget."

"I caught myself."

"You still hit the ground."

Jess narrowed her eyes slightly. Despite herself, she caved. "Fine. Four."

Shawn nodded, satisfied. "Still not too bad."

"I don't like not being good at things," she said, the words slipping out before she could filter them.

He didn't respond right away. He just watched the slope, like he was considering how to answer. Jess admired him, the way his cheeks were extra rosy in the bitter cold, his height now that he was so close to her.

"Yeah," he said finally. "I think I noticed that."

Jess glanced at him. "That obvious?"

"A little."

She exhaled softly. "It's not just that. It's... I don't know how to be bad at something. There's no system for it."

Shawn let out a quiet huff of a laugh. "Pretty sure that's the point."

She shook her head. "No, there should be a way to improve. Steps. Practice."

"There is."

Jess looked at him.

"You just did it," he said. "You fell. You adjusted. You tried again."

"That's not a system."

"It kind of is."

Jess frowned slightly, considering that. "I don't like it."

"I know."

Snow shifted lightly off the edge of the roof somewhere above them, sliding down in a soft rush.

Jess leaned her elbows against the railing, careful not to spill her drink.

"Why are you so good at it?" she asked. "Not that you're probably bad at anything."

"Skiing?"

"Yeah."

He shrugged one shoulder.

"Went a few times when I was younger."

"With your family?" Jess asked.

The question landed differently than she expected, subtle, but intrusive. Shawn's gaze shifted slightly, not quite meeting hers.

"Something like that," he said.

Jess nodded, recognizing the boundary. She pretended to focus on her hot chocolate. "You didn't have to help me, you know."

"I know."

"Then why did you? Surely, you'd rather have skied with Tyler and Troy."

He glanced at her then, not guarded, but with a directness. "You looked like you were about to quit. And I couldn't allow that. I meant, you came all the way to the Alps–"

"I wasn't," Jess exclaimed, defensive. "About to quit."

"You were close."

Jess opened her mouth to argue, but stopped herself.

"I don't quit."

Shawn tilted his head slightly. "Yeah," he said. "I'm starting to get that."

It was the way he said it that made Jess notice, that made it linger between them. Shawn Park sounded impressed.

Jess looked down at her cup. The steam had thinned now, the chocolate cooling. "Why are you even here?"

He blinked. "On this terrace?"

"No. On the trip."

Shawn shifted his weight against the railing. "Honestly?"

"Or else I wouldn't have asked."

He stared out at the mountains for a long second, like he was deciding how much to say. "I almost wasn't on the trip."

Jess looked at him.

"My grades are... not great," he continued. "But I'm sure you could have guessed that. Teachers didn't think it was a good idea. Or Principal Danner. Or my mom."

"But you came anyway."

"Yeah."

"Why?"

He let out a slow breath. "I don't know. I just felt like if I didn't go, I'd just... stay the same."

Jess frowned slightly. "What's wrong with your same?"

Shawn glanced at her, something unreadable flickering into his expression.

"Nothing," he said. "If you like where you are."

Jess didn't respond, because she didn't know how to answer that. What was Shawn implying, and why did it make Jess feel uneasy?

After a moment, Shawn pushed himself off the railing.

"Well," he said, lighter now, "tomorrow you'll only fall, like, twice."

Jess looked up at him.

"That's optimistic."

"I'm an optimist."

She shook her head, a small smile tugging at her mouth.

Shawn noticed this, she could tell, but he didn't comment on it. he just nodded toward the door.

"You coming? I know you know it's almost dinner time," he teased.

Jess hesitated. She took one last gaze at the mountains, now fading into evening blue.

"I'll be in in a minute," she said.

He studied her for a second. "Don't stay out too long," he said. "You'll freeze."

"I have a coat."

"Yeah," he said. "But no hypothermia on your schedule."

Jess almost laughed again. "Go," she said.

He did. And the door closed behind him with a quiet click.