Page 13 of When the Fake Snow Falls

Unknown Number:

Don’t apologize. This has become a much more interesting night than I anticipated.

It has for me, too. Maybe not in the way I was hoping, but I like talking to him. He has this candid way about him that makes him feel . . . genuine. It’s refreshing. And now that the flirting aspect is gone, the conversation isn’t riddled with pressure. Even if it’s not what I wanted, there’s something that can be said for that, too.

Unknown Number:

You really think I should go back?

Of course I don’t think he should go back and ask out some gorgeous blonde who serves coffee, but who am I to judge?

Candace:

You might as well. See how things would have worked out today if all had gone according to plan, right?

Unknown Number:

Another valid point.

Setting my phone down on my bedside table, I consider going into the living room and joining Miles. It’s getting late, though, and tomorrow is a full day. I’m booked solid without much of a break for lunch or my always appreciated afternoon coffee.

My phone buzzes on the bedside table, and my eyebrows pull together before flipping it over. I didn’t think he’d text me again. I’m not the person he thought, and he’s going to ask out the right person. Simple as that. But as I look down at the message, I can’t help but feel a tiny flutter.

Unknown Number:

So, outside of this, how was your day?

six

With my bagslung over my shoulder, I look both ways before jogging across the street. Coffee Shop Guy kept me up a little later than I expected, but despite texting into the early hours of the morning, names never came up.

Talking to him made me feel like a teenager again, giddy with flutters of anticipation, but I can’t be interested in a guy like him. A guy who only goes for blondes? Please. That’s ridiculous. If anything, his lack of interest should have broken whatever rose-tinted glasses I wore yesterday. A guy can be a ten, but as soon as I find out he’s not interested, he drops to a solid six. Miles has always called it my superpower—the ability to disregard a man I thought was the end all be all in a matter of seconds.

I pull open the door to the salon a mere five minutes before my first appointment. Amanda looks up from placing small cups of candy canes in everyone’s station.

“Hey!” She grins before a flash of concern shows in her eyes and she glances at the clock on the wall. “Rough morning?”

I let out a breathless laugh as I set down my things and reach for my black apron on the wall hook. “Something like that.”

She lifts an eyebrow. “Want to talk about it?”

At the same time, my phone vibrates in my back pocket. I reach for it and see that it’s another message from Coffee Shop Guy.

Coffee Shop Guy:

Eggs on peanut butter toast?

“What?” I mutter to no one in particular before giving my attention back to Amanda. “Uh, maybe over wine.”

She laughs. “I can’t tonight, but I’d love to know what has you looking at your phone like that.”

I crack a small smile as I type back my response.

Candace:

I’m sorry?

I’m still not sure what to make of this new friendship I have with an unnamed man. He plans on asking the girl at Southern Roast out again, so why is he still texting me? About peanut butter and eggs of all things.

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