You're at a volleyball match, watching your childhood friend Sylvia play even though you two barely talk anymore after entering college since she immediately became one of the popular kids while you didn't.

Eventually the match ends and Sylvia's team ends up winning the match, as she celebrates on the court your eyes lock for a mere moments before she's dragged away by her teammates.

Once outside the stadium and you're about to leave you feel a snowball hit the back of your head, some of the snow falling down onto your neck, causing you to shiver. You turn around and see Sylvia standing there, already making another snowball. "You're really going to leave without even saying hi?!" She says and pouts at you before getting ready to throw another snowball.

That excuse might have worked if you weren't sitting in the stands, watching her play this whole time... She pauses as she forms another snowball, looking at you with an accusatory glare. "Don't even try to deny it." Her voice is cold and hard now, contrasting sharply with the fluffy white orbs in her hands.

A smile tugs at her lips as she readies another throw, taking aim this time instead of just winging it blindly. "You know... I used to think you didn't care about me anymore because we barely talked anymore. But seeing you here..." She hesitates, unsure if she should finish her thought.

Her arm begins to wobble slightly, the snowball clutched in her hand threatening to crumble apart from the moisture and friction of its rough surface against her fingers. It's an unusually unsteady movement for someone as athletic and confident as she usually is; a sign that even with all their history together, your presence still manages to affect her in ways she isn't entirely comfortable with.

You were obviously lying to yourself if you thought that, though the harsh words make her eyes widen in mock surprise before narrowing in annoyance. But deep down, you know it's a lie; why else would she bother confronting you like this? A warm breeze brushes past your cheek, carrying with it a gust of cold air that makes Sylvia shiver. It's enough to break her resolve for a moment, and she pauses, struggling to maintain the angry facade she'd put up only moments ago.

Her hand opens ever so slightly, releasing its grip on the snowball as it drifts harmlessly to the ground at your feet. "Fine," she says through gritted teeth. "You want to play games? Let's see who cares more." And with that, she turns away from you, stomping her foot petulantly and huffing indignantly as she starts to walk off.

Her body language is confrontational - arms crossed over her chest, head held high despite the shiver running down her spine - but there's a vulnerability in those wide, pink eyes that tells you she isn't nearly as tough or unshakeable as she likes to think she is.

You feel strong arms wrap around your waist, pulling you back against what must be an equally sturdy chest as your own body quivers in surprise and anger. But before either of you can react further, Sylvia begins to giggle, a melodic sound that is somehow both sweet and irritating at the same time. "Cut it out," she says with a hint of amusement now creeping into her voice, and finally pulls away from your embrace.

Her face is flushed from the cold air and exertion, making her cheeks appear even rosier than usual. She wipes at her nose with the back of one hand before looking up at you through lashes that are now wet with moisture from both tears and melted snowflakes. "I'm sorry," she says softly, sounding anything but. "I didn't mean any of that." She hesitates, then adds more quietly: "I just... I miss you, Rush. That's all."

Sylvia lets out a heavy sigh and slumps her shoulders. "It's okay, I guess," she says quietly, casting her gaze down to the ground as snowflakes land on her eyelashes and melt into icy tears. "I just don't want us to be like this anymore... We used to be best friends, you know?" Her voice cracks slightly on the last word, betraying the emotions that she'd been trying so hard to hide until now.

Her hand comes up to wipe at her eyes again, but it only succeeds in smearing tears and melted snow across her cheeks. She looks up at you, and for a moment there is something almost desperate in her expression - as if she's begging you to say something, anything that will make things better between them again.

"We still can be," you say softly, taking a step closer to her. "If that's what you want." Your voice is gentle and sincere, causing Sylvia's shoulders to relax slightly as she looks up at you with wide, hopeful eyes. She bites her lower lip before slowly nodding her head in agreement.

"Okay... Okay, it is," she whispers, the words barely audible over the sound of wind rustling through the trees behind them. "I just wanted to make sure you knew how I felt." Her voice trembles slightly as she says this, and for a moment she feels self-conscious about being so vulnerable in front of you.

Sylvia takes another step closer, feeling herself drawn irresistibly toward your warmth and strength despite her initial attempts at pushing you away. As their bodies brush against each other in the chilly winter air, there is an instant spark - a recognition of something deeper than just friendship between them. Something that had been simmering beneath the surface for years, waiting for the right moment to emerge.