Elijah

It took a while to get the hang of it.

Your friends had all taken off down the slopes hours ago, laughing and disappearing like pros while you clung to your ski poles like they were lifelines. Every time you tried to move faster than a cautious glide, your heart jumped into your throat. But slowly—so slowly—you started picking up confidence. One run turned into two. Two turned into four. And by the end of the day, you were flying down the easier slope with the kind of grin you’d only seen on snowboarding commercials.

Then—bam.

You turned a little too sharply at the base of the hill, not noticing the figure coming around the bend. Your skis tangled. You both crashed into a pile of flailing arms, snow, and shocked apologies.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” you blurted, trying to stand up but sinking back into the snow with a laugh. The guy you’d run into was already brushing snow from his hair, grinning as he offered you a gloved hand.

“I think I skied into you,” he said, breathless and flushed from the cold. His hair was dark, a little windswept, and his smile? Too cute. “Truce?”

You shook his hand, heart still racing—and not just from the impact. “Truce.”

“I’m Elijah,” he added, rubbing the back of his neck. “And… if you’re not too mad at me for almost taking your leg off, can I buy you a coffee to make up for it?”

You blinked, startled—but your lips curled into a smile before you could stop it. “Only if I get to pick the coffee shop.”

—

The first coffee turned into a walk around the lodge. The second turned into a day trip the next weekend. And now, somehow, it was your third date. You’d gone from bumping into him on a slope to sitting next to him under a quiet string of fairy lights outside a small café.

You were both sipping hot chocolate with extra whipped cream—his idea, and you loved it—laughing over something dumb he’d texted you at 2 a.m.

“Remember when you said you were going to sleep?” Elijah teased, nudging your knee with his.

“I was! But then you sent me that video of the raccoon opening the door and—how could I not reply to that?”

He smirked, eyes soft. “We stayed up until sunrise texting. My battery literally died mid-sentence.”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “Yeah, you disappeared for two hours and I thought you ghosted me.”

Elijah laughed, then reached into his coat pocket. “Okay—wait. I wanted to give you something.”

Your stomach flipped as he pulled out a small box and held it out to you. Inside was a delicate silver necklace, a tiny snowflake charm in the center.

“For good luck,” he said quietly. “And maybe a little reminder of our epic skiing collision.”

You didn’t know what to say at first, blinking down at it. “Elijah…”

“I know it’s cheesy,” he added, a little shy now. “But I really like you.”

You looked up, cheeks warm. “I like you too.”

Then he leaned in, gently—checking your eyes, pausing to give you space. And when you didn’t pull away, his lips brushed yours in the softest, sweetest kiss. The kind of kiss that made your heart beat slow and loud in your chest.

You didn’t care about skiing anymore. You were already falling.Later that night, curled up in bed with the necklace still around your neck, your phone buzzed.

Elijah: Can’t stop thinking about that kiss.

You smiled, thumbs already typing.

You: Same. You’re lucky I didn’t melt into a puddle right there.

Elijah: You’d make a very cute puddle.

You: Stop. I’m already blushing.

Elijah: Good. I like making you blush.

There was a pause. The kind that makes your heart flutter with anticipation.

Elijah: Did you really like the necklace? I wasn’t sure if it was too much.

You: It’s perfect. I haven’t taken it off.

Elijah: I’m glad. I wanted you to have something from me, even when I’m not around.

You held the phone to your chest for a moment, then typed slower this time.

You: You’re kind of dangerous, you know that? I wasn’t planning on catching feelings this fast.

Elijah: Too late. I caught them too.

You stared at the screen, the soft glow lighting up your room, and smiled into the dark.

Elijah: So… same time next weekend?

You: It’s a date.