The plan was simple — six Black men, one cabin, and a weekend of skiing none of them were really prepared for. Khalil booked it all, Omari documented every fall, Corey brought the weed, Teddy stocked the liquor, Deonte wore the kind of ski suit that drew stares, and Andre stayed quiet, watching the chaos from the fire. The first day was all laughter and bruised egos on the slopes. But when night came, the cabin grew hotter than the flames in the fireplace.

What started as games and dares slipped into something none of them could laugh away. Glances turned to touches, touches turned to choices, and by the time the fire burned low, some disappeared into rooms, some tangled on couches, and some simply went to sleep pretending not to hear. The morning came with coffee, snow still falling, and silence heavy with secrets.