Unknown: Want to see something special? Meet me at the equipment shed in 10 minutes. Dress warm. -Nick
My heart stops.
"Oh, my God." I stare at the screen.
"What?" All three roommates crowd around.
"Is that from him?" Madison squeals. "He's asking you out! This is happening!"
"It's not a date. He just wants to show me something about skiing—"
"At night?" Joelle grabs my shoulders. "Daria. He's asking you on a romantic moonlight adventure. Stop overthinking and go."
I stare at my phone as every worst-case scenario flows through my mind, but a sliver of hope has me getting up and changing into my warmest layers, hands shaking the whole time. This could be nothing. Professional guidance. Friendly gesture.
Or it could be everything.
The women cheer me on and keep giving me advice on how to seduce him, but I don’t pay attention. I can only hear my heart slamming against my chest.
Nick's waiting by the equipment shed when I arrive, two sets of skis leaning against the wall. He's in a dark jacket and knit hat, breath misting in the cold air, and he looks so solid and real that I almost turn around and run.
"Hey." He smiles when he sees me. "Thanks for coming."
"What are we doing?"
"You'll see. Come on."
He hands me skis, and we make our way to the lift. It's closed for the night, but Nick has a staff key. We ride up in silence, the mountain settling into blue twilight around us. I sneak glances at him, trying to read his expression.
At the top, he leads me to an intermediate run I recognize from this morning's lesson. But in the fading light, everything looks different. Softer. More intimate.
"We're skiing in the dark?"
"It's not quite dark yet." He points to the horizon, where the sun's last rays paint the sky pink and gold. "And once the moon comes up, you won't need anything else."
We wait as dusk deepens into night and the moon rises, huge and luminous. It transforms the snow into a silver landscape, with shadows and light playing across the slopes.
"Okay," I breathe. "This is special."
"Told you." He clips onto his skis. "Ready?"
We ski down, and he's right—the moonlight is enough. More than enough. It's magic, gliding through this quiet silver world with just the sound of our skis on snow and our breath in the cold air.
At the bottom, I'm grinning so hard my face hurts. "That was incredible."
"You're a natural. I wasn't lying about that." He props his skis against a tree. "Want to sit for a minute?"
We find a flat spot with a view of the valley below, lights from the resort twinkling in the distance. Nick sits close enough that our shoulders touch, body heat a point of connection in the cold.
"Thank you for this," I whisper.
"You're welcome."
"Can I ask why?"
He's silent for a long moment. "You said something during our first lesson. About not expecting me to be nice. Like you're surprised when people treat you well."
I tense, embarrassed that he remembers.
