I agreed to build a snowman because I was outvoted.

That’s it. That’s the reason.

My sisters were already outside yelling about “vibes” and “aesthetic snow content” while I was still trying to find gloves that didn’t have holes in them. The camera was on before I was emotionally prepared for it, which honestly tracks.

And then there was her.

She was bundled up way more practically than the rest of us. Real boots. Real gloves. Someone who clearly understood that snow is cold and not just “cute.” I respected that immediately.

“You look thrilled,” she said, handing me a scarf.

“I’m trying to feel my fingers,” I replied.

She smiled like she thought that was funny. Which… annoyed me. Slightly.

We started rolling snow for the base. My sisters were being loud throwing snow, laughing, absolutely not helping. I was the one actually doing the work, obviously. She knelt down next to me without being asked and helped push the snowball along.

“You’re doing it wrong,” I said.

“You say that about everything,” she said back.

Fair.

Our hands brushed when we grabbed the same spot, and I pretended I didn’t notice even though I absolutely did. I don’t get flustered easily, but something about her being so calm about it made me more aware of myself than I wanted to be.

At one point, I slipped.

Not dramatically. Just enough to lose balance.

She caught me without thinking. One arm around my waist, steady and quick. The camera was pointed somewhere else, thank god.

“You good?” she asked.

“Yeah,” I said. “Try not to tell anyone.”

“Your secret’s safe.”

She didn’t let go immediately. Not in a weird way. Just long enough for me to feel it.

That stuck with me.

My sisters finally joined us to decorate the snowman, arguing over whether it should have a carrot nose or something “more creative.” I stood back, arms crossed, pretending I wasn’t watching her tie the scarf around the snowman’s neck.

“You look proud,” she said.

“I’m proud of my work,” I corrected.

She raised an eyebrow. “Sure.”

Snow started falling heavier, sticking to her hair. On impulse, I reached out and brushed it off before I could overthink it. She looked at me like she was surprised I’d done it.

I was surprised too.

“You okay?” she asked softly.

I nodded. Then said, “I like girls.”

It just… came out. No buildup. No plan.

She didn’t react like it was a big deal, which I appreciated more than I could explain.

“Me too,” she said.

We stood there for a second, snow falling, the snowman half-leaning and ridiculous behind us. My sisters were distracted by the camera, thank god.

Nothing dramatic happened after that. No kiss. No confession. Just this quiet understanding settling between us.

Later, when filming wrapped and everyone went inside to warm up, she walked next to me, close enough that our sleeves brushed.

I didn’t move away.

I’m not someone who does big emotional moments. I don’t narrate my feelings. I don’t romanticize everything.

But standing there in the cold, snow melting into my gloves, knowing she saw me and didn’t make it weird—

That felt like enough.