“The emergency light button on the dashboard.”
“Wrong again.”
I squinted, leaning forward as if it would help. “The little stripe on your water bottle label?”
He shook his head, the hint of a smirk tugging at his lips.
“Ugh, I give up. What is it?”
“The blush on your cheeks,” he said smoothly, his voice laced with teasing.
I froze, my mouth opening and closing as I tried to come up with a response. “That’s not fair! That’s not even a thing I can see!”
“It’s there,” he said, clearly pleased with himself.
“You’re cheating,” I accused, pointing a finger at him.
“You’re just mad because I’m better at this game.”
“You’re insufferable,” I muttered, sinking back into my seat.
“And yet, here you are,” he said, echoing my earlier words with a satisfied grin.
I rolled my eyes but couldn’t fight the smile tugging at my lips. As frustrating as Wynter was, there was something about his composed, teasing energy that made me want to keep pushing him just to see what he’d do.
The snowy landscape outside seemed to stretch endlessly, but inside the car, the air felt warm, alive with our banter. I didn’t know where we were going, but for the first time, I didn’t really care.
The winter market looked like something out of a dream. Strings of fairy lights crisscrossed the snow-dusted streets, casting a golden glow over the cobblestone square. Wooden stalls lined the way, each one adorned with garlands of pine and crimson ribbon. The air smelled like roasted chestnuts, spiced cider, and the faint, sugary warmth of candied almonds.
I clutched Wynter’s arm as we stepped into the bustling crowd, the festive bustle of conversation and laughter wrapping around us. His steady presence beside me felt grounding, his handtucked into the pocket of his coat where mine rested warmly against his.
“You know,” I said, tilting my head up at him, “this whole market thing is dangerously romantic. It almost feels like you planned this.”
He raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into a faint smile. “Maybe I did.”
“Nowthat’ssuspicious,” I teased, nudging him lightly. “You don’t strike me as the kind of guy who plans romantic outings.”
“Maybe I’ve found a muse lately.” he said, his tone calm but laced with something unreadable.
“I never had a particular fascination with romance before.”
“Have you never watched titanic or Bridgerton or something?” I questioned,
“I’ve watched a lot because of my sisters but I never really saw myself as a part of it, just kind of watching from the sidelines because I never had the time. Coming to Julliard, having the chance to mentor instead of compete for once is the first time in a long time I’ve been able to breathe.” He explained.
I glanced at him, but his expression was as certain as ever, his dark eyes scanning the market like he wasn’t about to give anything away.
We stopped at a stall selling handmade ornaments, delicate glass stars and snowflakes that caught the light. I picked one up, a small reindeer with glittering antlers.
“Do you want it?” Wynter asked, his voice soft.
“No,” I said quickly, setting it back down. “It’s pretty, but I don’t need it.”
He gave me a look—half amused, half skeptical. “You’re bad at this whole ‘treating yourself’ thing, aren’t you?”
“Excuse me, I treat myself all the time,” I said, lifting my chin. “I bought a latte this morning.”
“A latte doesn’t count,” he said dryly, his hand slipping out of his pocket to guide me toward the next stall.
