Après-ski
𝘕𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘻 𝘈𝘭𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘜𝘯𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘦
𝐋𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨'𝐬 𝐏𝐎𝐕
Saturday, December 20th, 2025.
The place was loud in that way that made your bones buzz, bass thudding through the floor and up my legs like it was trying to shake me apart. Everyone was still in ski gear—jackets half-unzipped, gloves shoved into pockets, boots too heavy for dancing—and somehow that made it better, like we'd just refused to stop the day.
I was already a little tipsy, warm all the way through, loose in my limbs. Max was bouncing to the beat like he didn't care who saw him. Franco was laughing too loud at something Keegan said. Pietra had commandeered the middle of the group and was dancing like she'd invented it.
And then there was Sacha.
He was close. Too close to be accidental, not close enough to be obvious. His cheeks were flushed from the cold and the drinks, hair a mess from his helmet, eyes darker than usual. He kept looking at my mouth. Not subtly. Like he'd forget where he was for half a second, then catch himself and smirk.
I grinned at him, slow and lazy, and dipped my head a little just to make it worse.
"You're staring," I shouted over the music.
He leaned in, mouth near my ear, breath hot. "I'm appreciating."
I laughed and rolled my eyes, but I felt it—felt the way his attention sat on me like hands. My goggles were still pushed up on my forehead, strap digging into my hair. I glanced around, instinct kicking in, scanning the room. Too many people. Too many phones.
I tugged the goggles down over my eyes, settling them properly in place. The world dimmed a little, edges blurred, faces less distinct. Safer. Anonymous enough.
Sacha snorted. "What, you think that makes you invisible?"
"It helps," I said, leaning in anyway. "Plus, I look hot."
He tilted his head, considering me like a problem he enjoyed too much. "You look ridiculous."
I grabbed the front of his jacket and pulled him closer before he could say anything else. The kiss was quick, decisive—more shut-up than romance—but it landed exactly right. Warm, familiar, grounding.
When I pulled back, he was smiling like an idiot.
"There," I said. "Problem solved."
He shook his head, laughing, and bumped his forehead into my goggles gently. "You're dangerous when you drink."
I danced closer anyway, chest to chest now, moving with the music, with him. The night kept going around us—lights, noise, friends—but all I really felt was the pull between us, easy and inevitable, like gravity had finally decided to be honest.
It started like that—soft, careless, inevitable—and then it tipped.
Not the quick, joking kiss anymore. Not the shut-him-up kind. We were kissing kissing, mouths fitting together properly, Sacha's hands coming up to pull me closer like he'd forgotten where we were. Or maybe he just didn't care. I felt the world narrow to heat and movement and the familiar rightness of him, the music blurring into something distant and unimportant.
I laughed into his mouth, stupid and happy, and he smiled against me, deepening it, like we had all the time in the world.
And then—
"Oi."
Hands landed on my shoulders. Firm. Unmistakable.
Max.
He wedged himself between us with the efficiency of someone who had done this before, pushing Sacha back with one arm and turning me slightly with the other. The music kept going. The lights kept flashing. To anyone watching, it probably looked like nothing. Just friends jostling each other on a dance floor.
Max leaned in close, mouth right by my ear, voice low and sharp beneath the noise.
"Everyone on Twitter already knows you're skiing," he said. "If someone takes a video of that, you're fucked."
That cut through the fog instantly.
I blinked behind my goggles, breath catching, reality snapping back into place a little too hard. I glanced around without really moving my head—phones everywhere, hands up. It wasn't paranoia. It was just math.
Sacha was still right there, close enough that I could feel his warmth, his hand hovering like he didn't know what to do with it now. He looked annoyed, then sheepish, then resigned all in the space of a second.
Max straightened, giving us both a look that was equal parts warning and affection. "I'm not cockblocking for fun," he added, quieter. "I'm doing it because I love you."
I exhaled a shaky laugh and nodded. "Yeah. Okay. Sorry."
Sacha clicked his tongue, but he backed off half a step, rolling his shoulders like he was physically reining himself in. He leaned toward me anyway, careful this time, and brushed his mouth near my ear instead of my lips.
"Later," he murmured.
I smiled despite myself, heart still racing, and bumped my forehead lightly into his shoulder.
"Later," I agreed.
Max watched us for another beat, then finally stepped back, shaking his head as he disappeared into the crowd—mission accomplished, disaster postponed.
The music swelled again. The night kept going. And this time, we danced just far enough apart to behave, even if neither of us stopped wanting.
❤️
Lando enjoying his time at his ski trip with friends ⛷️🩵
