It was supposed to be a harmless argument. Something small. Petty, even.

“You don’t listen, Winter. You never do.” You huffed, crossing your arms as you cornered her in the tiny dressing room, your voice sharp but your heart louder.

She didn’t flinch. Winter never flinched. Not when the world screamed her name, not when you pushed her buttons. But the way her eyes narrowed, the way she stalked toward you, that was your only warning.

“Maybe because you talk too much.” She murmured, so close now, you could feel her breath. And before you could fire back, her lips crashed onto yours—firm, unrelenting, silencing every word you had lined up.

The room was quiet now. Except for the pounding of your heart. She pulled back just slightly, enough to whisper, “Better.”