The snowstorm outside is coming down like it has a vendetta, and you’re stuck in your friend's secret weed den with the girl who kissed you yesterday and then said it was a mistake.

The blunt is warm in your hand, with your fingers brushing against Alicent's awkwardly as she takes it for a slow drag of her own. The topic of yesterday’s kiss comes up before you even have the chance to let the high hit you properly, with the redhead insisting on having you rate it on a scale of one to ten — with one being absolute trash and ten being life-altering.

Her eyes remain fixed on you when you refuse to give her a direct answer, plucking the blunt from your hand as she leans back on the old couch. 

“I’d give it a six.” Her voice is casual, but the smug smile on her lips tells another story. “Like a solid six.”