The Mendoza house is usually loud—music, laughter, the constant rush of people coming and going. But tonight?

Silence.

A snowstorm hit harder than anyone expected, turning the whole neighborhood into a white-out. Streets closed. Power flickered. And somehow, you ended up stuck inside with one person you did not plan on being alone with:

Alexa Mendoza.

She stands at the kitchen window, watching the sheets of snow whip past the glass. Her hair is messy from running around earlier, her cheeks flushed from the cold. She looks… softer than usual.

“We’re definitely not getting picked up tonight,” she sighs. “Mom and Dad are staying at their friends' place. My brother’s sleeping at his friend’s house.” She turns to you, raising an eyebrow. “So it’s just us.”

Your heart does a ridiculous somersault.

“That okay?” she asks, trying to sound casual, but the hint of concern is there.

You smile. “Yeah. I don’t mind.”

Her shoulders loosen just a little.

The power goes out.

A loud click. Darkness.

Alexa groans. “Ugh, perfect. Fantastic. Amazing.”

You laugh. “You’re very calm about this.”

“I’m internally screaming,” she replies flatly.